A SONG.SUNG AT AN AGRICULTURAL DINNER, AT CONCORD, MASS.Sincetime in the primer first sharpen’d his scythe,And the sands in his glass were beginning to flow,There never was spectacle bonny and blithe,Which came fairly up to ourGrand Cattle Show.Derry down, down, down, derry down.Here’s bulls, hogs, and horses, and sheep not a few,Respectable animals, worthy a prize,Like good go-to-meeting folks, each in hispew,All sober as deacons—if not quite so wise.Master Pig is the Chorister, just twist his tail,And he’ll give you altissimo trills in high style,The fine diatonics which run through the scaleOf his exquisite gamut will ring for a mile.Our roots have run down to gravity’s centre,Some went on to China, and thieves pulled them through—But that’s a tough story, and I shouldn’t venture,In a high court of Justice to swear it is true.And here we have oxen, stout animals, whichMight well go to Congress, representing their race,Round gravity’s centre just give them a hitch,And I guess they would twitch the great globe out of place.The match of ourPloughmenwas ne’er matched before,Save when a lorn lover is matched to his fair;They turned the earth over as flat as this floor,Such chaps the great globe, like an apple can pare.In troth, all the world’s nothing more than a showOf animals, shut up, or running at large,You meet with queer creatures wherever you go,And pity their keepers, who have them in charge.Acalfsent to college comes out a greatbore,An odd metamorphosis that, it is true,But one which has taken place over and o’er;—Now I do not mean you, sir, nor you, sir, nor you.I hate personalities, therefore won’t say,How a jackass conducts when made just ass of Peace,Such animals now and then come in my way,But I never shear hogs for the sake of their fleece.A vile pettifogger, all quibble and jaw,Is ninety-nine thousand times worse than a brute,In a sunbeam he’ll pick an indictable flaw,And against his own shadow show cause for a suit.Here’s health to our orator,[134]one who can boastThat he practises well what he preaches about;But gentlemen please not tobuttermytoast,For we like him so well we can take him without.Here’s “Middlesex Husbandmen,” doing more goodThan all the political clubs ever known,Unless a man’s head is the essence of wood,He ranks them above any king on his throne.Derry down, down, down, derry down.
SUNG AT AN AGRICULTURAL DINNER, AT CONCORD, MASS.
Sincetime in the primer first sharpen’d his scythe,And the sands in his glass were beginning to flow,There never was spectacle bonny and blithe,Which came fairly up to ourGrand Cattle Show.Derry down, down, down, derry down.Here’s bulls, hogs, and horses, and sheep not a few,Respectable animals, worthy a prize,Like good go-to-meeting folks, each in hispew,All sober as deacons—if not quite so wise.Master Pig is the Chorister, just twist his tail,And he’ll give you altissimo trills in high style,The fine diatonics which run through the scaleOf his exquisite gamut will ring for a mile.Our roots have run down to gravity’s centre,Some went on to China, and thieves pulled them through—But that’s a tough story, and I shouldn’t venture,In a high court of Justice to swear it is true.And here we have oxen, stout animals, whichMight well go to Congress, representing their race,Round gravity’s centre just give them a hitch,And I guess they would twitch the great globe out of place.The match of ourPloughmenwas ne’er matched before,Save when a lorn lover is matched to his fair;They turned the earth over as flat as this floor,Such chaps the great globe, like an apple can pare.In troth, all the world’s nothing more than a showOf animals, shut up, or running at large,You meet with queer creatures wherever you go,And pity their keepers, who have them in charge.Acalfsent to college comes out a greatbore,An odd metamorphosis that, it is true,But one which has taken place over and o’er;—Now I do not mean you, sir, nor you, sir, nor you.I hate personalities, therefore won’t say,How a jackass conducts when made just ass of Peace,Such animals now and then come in my way,But I never shear hogs for the sake of their fleece.A vile pettifogger, all quibble and jaw,Is ninety-nine thousand times worse than a brute,In a sunbeam he’ll pick an indictable flaw,And against his own shadow show cause for a suit.Here’s health to our orator,[134]one who can boastThat he practises well what he preaches about;But gentlemen please not tobuttermytoast,For we like him so well we can take him without.Here’s “Middlesex Husbandmen,” doing more goodThan all the political clubs ever known,Unless a man’s head is the essence of wood,He ranks them above any king on his throne.Derry down, down, down, derry down.
Sincetime in the primer first sharpen’d his scythe,And the sands in his glass were beginning to flow,There never was spectacle bonny and blithe,Which came fairly up to ourGrand Cattle Show.Derry down, down, down, derry down.
Sincetime in the primer first sharpen’d his scythe,
And the sands in his glass were beginning to flow,
There never was spectacle bonny and blithe,
Which came fairly up to ourGrand Cattle Show.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.
Here’s bulls, hogs, and horses, and sheep not a few,Respectable animals, worthy a prize,Like good go-to-meeting folks, each in hispew,All sober as deacons—if not quite so wise.
Here’s bulls, hogs, and horses, and sheep not a few,
Respectable animals, worthy a prize,
Like good go-to-meeting folks, each in hispew,
All sober as deacons—if not quite so wise.
Master Pig is the Chorister, just twist his tail,And he’ll give you altissimo trills in high style,The fine diatonics which run through the scaleOf his exquisite gamut will ring for a mile.
Master Pig is the Chorister, just twist his tail,
And he’ll give you altissimo trills in high style,
The fine diatonics which run through the scale
Of his exquisite gamut will ring for a mile.
Our roots have run down to gravity’s centre,Some went on to China, and thieves pulled them through—But that’s a tough story, and I shouldn’t venture,In a high court of Justice to swear it is true.
Our roots have run down to gravity’s centre,
Some went on to China, and thieves pulled them through—
But that’s a tough story, and I shouldn’t venture,
In a high court of Justice to swear it is true.
And here we have oxen, stout animals, whichMight well go to Congress, representing their race,Round gravity’s centre just give them a hitch,And I guess they would twitch the great globe out of place.
And here we have oxen, stout animals, which
Might well go to Congress, representing their race,
Round gravity’s centre just give them a hitch,
And I guess they would twitch the great globe out of place.
The match of ourPloughmenwas ne’er matched before,Save when a lorn lover is matched to his fair;They turned the earth over as flat as this floor,Such chaps the great globe, like an apple can pare.
The match of ourPloughmenwas ne’er matched before,
Save when a lorn lover is matched to his fair;
They turned the earth over as flat as this floor,
Such chaps the great globe, like an apple can pare.
In troth, all the world’s nothing more than a showOf animals, shut up, or running at large,You meet with queer creatures wherever you go,And pity their keepers, who have them in charge.
In troth, all the world’s nothing more than a show
Of animals, shut up, or running at large,
You meet with queer creatures wherever you go,
And pity their keepers, who have them in charge.
Acalfsent to college comes out a greatbore,An odd metamorphosis that, it is true,But one which has taken place over and o’er;—Now I do not mean you, sir, nor you, sir, nor you.
Acalfsent to college comes out a greatbore,
An odd metamorphosis that, it is true,
But one which has taken place over and o’er;—
Now I do not mean you, sir, nor you, sir, nor you.
I hate personalities, therefore won’t say,How a jackass conducts when made just ass of Peace,Such animals now and then come in my way,But I never shear hogs for the sake of their fleece.
I hate personalities, therefore won’t say,
How a jackass conducts when made just ass of Peace,
Such animals now and then come in my way,
But I never shear hogs for the sake of their fleece.
A vile pettifogger, all quibble and jaw,Is ninety-nine thousand times worse than a brute,In a sunbeam he’ll pick an indictable flaw,And against his own shadow show cause for a suit.
A vile pettifogger, all quibble and jaw,
Is ninety-nine thousand times worse than a brute,
In a sunbeam he’ll pick an indictable flaw,
And against his own shadow show cause for a suit.
Here’s health to our orator,[134]one who can boastThat he practises well what he preaches about;But gentlemen please not tobuttermytoast,For we like him so well we can take him without.
Here’s health to our orator,[134]one who can boast
That he practises well what he preaches about;
But gentlemen please not tobuttermytoast,
For we like him so well we can take him without.
Here’s “Middlesex Husbandmen,” doing more goodThan all the political clubs ever known,Unless a man’s head is the essence of wood,He ranks them above any king on his throne.Derry down, down, down, derry down.
Here’s “Middlesex Husbandmen,” doing more good
Than all the political clubs ever known,
Unless a man’s head is the essence of wood,
He ranks them above any king on his throne.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.