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These old rhymes pleased the young Casimir mightily: if his lady mother would only lend him a ribbon, he would lead up little Blaffert his dog to them, and have a rhyme said over him.
No one observed them, for all eyes were turned upon the princely child, who sprang to a huntsman and begged of him to say a rhyme or two over his little dog Blaffert. The carl rubbed his forehead, and at last gave out his psalm, as follows, in Low German: "Blaffert, Blaffert, thou art fat! If my lord would only feed All his people like to that 'Twould be well for Pommern's need."
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