The Piper's face fell, and he cried,

"No trifling! I can't wait, beside!

I've promised to visit by dinner-time

Bagdad, and accept the prime

Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in,

For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen,

Of a nest of scorpions no survivor:

With him I proved no bargain-driver,

With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!

And folks who put me in a passion

May find me pipe after another fashion."