THE POST OF HONOR.
9
It comes with questions that demand replies,
Important, weighty, relevant, and wise.
"Respected Sir," the sheet of queries runs,
In solid phalanx, like election buns,—
"Respected Sir, we humbly beg to know
Your mind on matters that we name below;
Be firm, consistent, that is, if you can;
The country rocks, and we must know our man.
And first, What think you of the Northern Lights,
And is it fatal when a mad dog bites?
Do you allow your corn to mix with peas,
And can you doubt the moon is one with cheese?
If all your young potatoes should decease,
What neighbor's patch would you incline to fleece?
When Lot's slow help-meet made that foolish halt,
Was she half rock, or only table salt?
And had the ark run thumping on the stumps,
Would you, if there, have aided at the pumps?
Do you approve of men who stick to pills,
Or aqueous pilgrims to Vermont's broad hills?
Important, weighty, relevant, and wise.
"Respected Sir," the sheet of queries runs,
In solid phalanx, like election buns,—
"Respected Sir, we humbly beg to know
Your mind on matters that we name below;
Be firm, consistent, that is, if you can;
The country rocks, and we must know our man.
And first, What think you of the Northern Lights,
And is it fatal when a mad dog bites?
Do you allow your corn to mix with peas,
And can you doubt the moon is one with cheese?
If all your young potatoes should decease,
What neighbor's patch would you incline to fleece?
When Lot's slow help-meet made that foolish halt,
Was she half rock, or only table salt?
And had the ark run thumping on the stumps,
Would you, if there, have aided at the pumps?
Do you approve of men who stick to pills,
Or aqueous pilgrims to Vermont's broad hills?
