At Hance's doings every morn,
With sheer delight his mother cried;
And Monsieur Pierre's contemptuous scorn
Filled his mamma with proper pride.

But Hance's powers began to fail—
His constitution was not strong—
And Pierre, who once was stout and hale,
Grew thin from shouting all day long.

Their mothers saw them pale and wan,
Maternal anguish tore each breast,
And so they met to find a plan
To set their offsprings' minds at rest.

 
Said Mrs. Hance, "Of course I shrinks
From bloodshed, ma'am, as you're aware,
But still they'd better meet, I thinks."
"Assurément!" said Madame Pierre.