Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems/The Lost Pet

by Charles Follen Adams

THE LOST PET.

Oh, list! while I tell

Of the fate that befell

A pet that was dear unto me, —

A black-and-tan pup.

Oh! bitter the cup

Prepared by that " Heathen Chinee "

For me,

The friend of those venders of tea.

This young black-and-tan

Away from me ran, —

An act which I did not foresee;

And, though I did seek

For over a week

To find him, it was not to be.

You'll see,

'Twas the work of that sinful Chinee.

His name was Ah-Bet,

(Not the name of my pet,

But of him of Chinese pedigree;)

And he kept a small shop,

And had the best "chop"

Of tit-bits from over the sea,

That he

Obtained from his far-famed patrie.

He had "chow-chow," that tickles

The lover of pickles,

Though with me it did never agree;

And things filled with spice,

Which may have been mice,—

They looked enough like them, — dear me!

To see

Such food in the "land of the free."

One day I'd a friend

Who was coming to spend

The day, and take dinner with me:

So I went to Ah-Bet,

And told him to get

A rabbit "and fixin's;" and he

Said "Oui,"

In a manner quite Frenchy to see.

The clock had struck one:

The dinner was done,

And served up with steaming Bohea.

"'Tis excellent fare,

This rabbit, or hare,:

Whichever it may be," said he,

(Mon ami:)

"You've a prize in that Heathen Chinee."

Just then in the dish

I noticed him fish

For something he thought he could see,

That didn't look right;

And brought to the light

A tag, with inscription, " Toby."

Ah me!

'Twas that of my lost favori!