Rhymes with reason and without

The sad nineteenth had come and passed,
And many a fair cur breathed its last
Beneath fell blows and cruel licks
From urchins armed with oaken sticks,
Or huge men waiting but the word
To murder all the canine herd.
The law to back them, small they cared,
But pug and poodle equal fared,
And sturdy bull-dogs, terriers, setters,
Were stilled in death's unyielding fetters,
And headless lay as still as clods,
Let owners see them, hang the odds!
O, 't was a horrid, frightful slaughter,
And all Cochituate's pure water
Can from fair Boston ne'er efface
This record of her dire disgrace.

That night saw Alderman Jones in bed,
A warm wool nightcap on his head,

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And, tucked in snug, he lay reposing,—
Sweet Mrs. J. beside him dozing!
The night had passed till twelve and over,
When blackest shadows o'er us hover,
When “church-yards yawn,” and ghosts and devils
And other kidney make their revels.

'T is best to be in bed by nine,
With conscience undisturbed, like mine;
Then sleep will seal your eyelids weary,
And all your dreams be bright and cheery;
But Mr. Jones, inclined to royster,
Had that night taken one more oyster
Than was his usual habit fixed,
And forty drops of brandy, mixed
With “aqua pura” just to soften
The ill of drinking water often;
And troubled images perplexing,
Soul-harrowing and wild and vexing,
Came up within his mind while sleeping,
That set his very flesh all creeping;
His hair arose on end like bristles,
And fancy showered on him thistles
That stung and burned him as he lay,
From which he could not get away.
The sweat ran down his sides like rain,—
He tossed and turned and turned again,
Till Mrs. Jones, her patience shaken,
Strove her fast-sleeping spouse to waken,

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And on the word, as soon as spoke,
He started up,—the spell was broke.
He rubbed his eyes—he looked affrighted—
Till on his wife his glance alighted,
Then spoke, in tones with horror filled,
“Call off the dogs, or I am killed!”

A shake or two from Mrs. J.
Dispelled the mists that round him lay,
When, rousing to a lucid state,
He told the dream I here relate:

He thought that by some high decision
Man's power was brought into derision,
And in one little, fleeting hour
He was deposed, and dogs had power,
To prove the antiquated say
That every “dog should have his day.”
Reversed was everything in town,—
The dogs went up the men went down,
And every station and estate,
That man had occupied of late,
Was handed o'er to canine rule,
In hall and cottage, mart and school;
In doctor's chair and pulpit high
The dogs were placed their skill to try;
A big dog filled the judge's seat,
In wig and fixings all complete,
And jury dogs, like human brothers,
Sat listening to the tales of others;

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And, what to Jones seemed very strange,
Many scarcely marked the change,
Accustomed they so long before
To see them filled by little more.
And canine councils gravely scanned
The works the tyrant man had planned,
Devoutly thankful kindly fate
Had called them in to save the state.

Then time went by, and they detected
That man by madness was infected,—
That dread of water was the sign
By which the malady to define,—
And straightway, for their own protection,
They passed a law to stay the infection:
That every man who water dreaded
Should first be caught and then beheaded,
Unless he wore a muzzle snug
Around his brandy-branded mug,
And every one who passed for man
Was reckoned fitting for the ban;
Then men walked round with leathern straps
Upon their mouths, or wire traps,
Or some device their masters picked
A kindly misery to inflict.

Alas for those who went unguarded!
Their rashness was with stripes rewarded:
Official dogs, with iron teeth,
Soon worried, hurried them to death,

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And fifty cents a head was given
For those which were n't worth half when living;
And mangled forms lay scattered round,
Headless and marked by many a wound;
And taunts of sausages and pies,
Like human ribald, did arise,
Till it was hard to choose the best,
The canine or the human jest.

Then men grew timid in their state;
Soon changed was tone and step elate,
And humble were the high and proud,
The biggest of the human crowd.

An alderman ran from a puppy's bark,
A huge policeman hid his mark,
And broke his switch at a small dog's growl,
As he raced down street with a horrid howl;
And Jones's self, while his breath did fail,
Was chased with a tin pot tied to his tail,
And a big dog tried were he mad, with a wink,
By offering him some water to drink!
This was going too far for a joke,
And glad was he when at last he awoke,
And the sequel was that his dire affright
Kept him awake the live-long night.

On the 19th of April, 18---, the law went into effect authorizing the killing of all dogs, at large, not muzzled.

University of Virginia Library

THE TABLES TURNED: A DOGGEREL.

Or how Alderman Jones saw things in a dream which may go to account for the repeal of the dog law.