A Slander.

A poem by Lizzie Lawson

"Shake hands, shake hands my little girl,"
Said Mister Crab to Nell,
"I'm very glad to meet you dear,
I hope you are quite well.
I think it's very hot to-day,
I feel it in my shell."

"I can't shake hands with you," said Nell,
"It isn't thought polite,
Without an introduction;
Besides, no doubt it's spite,
It mayn't be true, but still they do,
They do say that you - BITE."

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