(_In answer, and with the music an octave lower._)

_Full Chorus_. Croak, croak, croak.

LEADER _of the Chorus_. When[1] flagons were foaming,
And roisterers were roaming,
And bards flung about them their gibe and their joke;
The holiest song
Still was found to belong
To the sons of the marsh, with their

_Full Chorus_ Croak, croak.

LEADER. Shall we pause in our strain,
Now the months bring again
The pipe and the minstrel to gladden the folk?
Rather strike on the ear
With a note strong and clear,
A chant corresponding of--

_Chorus_. Croak, croak.

BACCHUS (_mimicking_.) Croak, croak, by the gods I shall choke,
If you pester and bore my ears any more
With your croak, croak, croak.

LEADER. Rude companion and vain,
Thus to carp at my strain;
(_To Chor_) But keep in the vein,
And attack him again