Grotesque! We Said, The Moment We Espied Him, For There He Stood, Supreme In His Conceit, With Short Ears Close Together And Queer Feet Planted Irregularly: First We Tried Him With Jokes, But They Were Lost; We Then Defied Him With Bantering Questions And Loose Criticism: He Did Not Like, I'm Sure, Our Catechism, But Whisked And Snuffed A Little As We Eyed Him. Then Flung We Balls, And Out And Clear Away, Up The White Slope, Across The Crusted Snow, To Where A Broken Fence Stands In The Way, Against The Sky-Line, A Mere Row Of Pegs, Quicker Than Thought We Saw Him Flash And Go, A Straight Mad Scuttling Of Four Crooked Legs.