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Eugene Field - The Ballad Of The Taylor Pup
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Now lithe and listen, gentles all,
  Now lithe ye all and hark
Unto a ballad I shall sing
  About Buena Park.

Of all the wonders happening there
  The strangest hap befell
Upon a famous Aprile morn,
  As I you now shall tell.

It is about the Taylor pup
  And of his mistress eke
And of the prankish time they had
  That I am fain to speak.


    FITTE THE FIRST

The pup was of as noble mien
  As e`er you gazed upon;
They called his mother Lady
  And his father was a Don.

And both his mother and his sire
  Were of the race Bernard--
The family famed in histories
  And hymned of every bard.

His form was of exuberant mold,
  Long, slim, and loose of joints;
There never yet was pointer-dog
  So full as he of points.

His hair was like to yellow fleece,
  His eyes were black and kind,
And like a nodding, gilded plume
  His tail stuck up behind.

His bark was very, very fierce,
  And fierce his appetite,
Yet was it only things to eat
  That he was prone to bite.

But in that one particular
  He was so passing true
That never did he quit a meal
  Until he had got through.

Potatoes, biscuits, mush or hash,
  Joint, chop, or chicken limb--
So long as it was edible,
  `T was all the same to him!

And frequently when Hunger`s pangs
  Assailed that callow pup,
He masticated boots and gloves
  Or chewed a door-mat up.

So was he much beholden of
  The folk that him did keep;
They loved him when he was awake
  And better still asleep.


    FITTE THE SECOND

Now once his master, lingering o`er
  His breakfast coffee-cup,
Observed unto his doting spouse:
  "You ought to wash the pup!"

"That shall I do this very day",
  His doting spouse replied;
"You will not know the pretty thing
  When he is washed and dried.

"But tell me, dear, before you go
  Unto your daily work,
Shall I use Ivory soap on him,
  Or Colgate, Pears` or Kirk?"

"Odzooks, it matters not a whit--
  They all are good to use!
Take Pearline, if it pleases you--
  Sapolio, if you choose!

"Take any soap, but take the pup
  And also water take,
And mix the three discreetly up
  Till they a lather make.

"Then mixing these constituent parts,
  Let Nature take her way,"
With which advice that sapient sir
  Had nothing more to say.

Then fared he to his daily toil
  All in the Board of Trade,
While Mistress Taylor for that bath
  Due preparation made.


  FITTE THE THIRD

She whistled gayly to the pup
  And called him by his name,
And presently the guileless thing
  All unsuspecting came.

But when she shut the bath-room door,
  And caught him as catch-can,
And hove him in that odious tub,
  His sorrows then began.

How did that callow, yallow thing
  Regret that Aprile morn--
Alas! how bitterly he rued
  The day that he was born!

Twice and again, but all in vain
  He lifted up his wail;
His voice was all the pup could lift,
  For thereby hangs this tale.

`Twas by that tail she held him down,
  And presently she spread
The creamy lather on his back,
  His stomach, and his head.

His ears hung down in sorry wise,
  His eyes were, oh! so sad--
He looked as though he just had lost
  The only friend he had.

And higher yet the water rose,
  The lather still increased,
And sadder still the countenance
  Of that poor martyred beast!

Yet all the time his mistress spoke
  Such artful words of cheer
As "Oh, how nice!" and "Oh, how clean!"
  And "There`s a patient dear!"

At last the trial had an end,
  At last the pup was free;
She threw aside the bath-room door--
  "Now get you gone!" quoth she.


    FITTE THE FOURTH

Then from that tub and from that room
  He gat with vast ado;
At every hop he gave a shake,
  And--how the water flew!

He paddled down the winding stairs
  And to the parlor hied,
Dispensing pools of foamy suds
  And slop on every side.

Upon the carpet then he rolled
  And brushed against the wall,
And, horror! whisked his lathery sides
  On overcoat and shawl.

Attracted by the dreadful din,
  His mistress came below--
Who, who can speak her wonderment--
  Who, who can paint her woe!

Great smears of soap were here and there--
  Her startled vision met
With blobs of lather everywhere,
  And everything was wet!

Then Mrs. Taylor gave a shriek
  Like one about to die:
"Get out--get out, and don`t you dare
  Come in till you are dry!"

With that she opened wide the door
  And waved the critter through;
Out in the circumambient air
  With grateful yelps he flew.


    FITTE THE FIFTH

He whisked into the dusty street
  And to the Waller lot,
Where bonnie Annie Evans played
  With charming Sissy Knott.

And with those pretty little dears
  He mixed himself all up--
Oh, fie upon such boisterous play--
  Fie, fie, you naughty pup!

Woe, woe on Annie`s India mull,
  And Sissy`s blue percale!
One got that pup`s belathered flanks,
  And one his soapy tail!

Forth to the rescue of those maids
  Rushed gallant Willie Clow;
His panties they were white and clean--
  Where are those panties now?

Where is the nicely laundered shirt
  That Kendall Evans wore,
And Robbie James` tricot coat
  All buttoned up before?

The leaven, which, as we are told,
  Leavens a monstrous lump,
Hath far less reaching qualities
  Than a wet pup on the jump.

This way and that he swung and swayed,
  He gambolled far and near,
And everywhere he thrust himself
  He left a soapy smear.


    FITTE THE SIXTH

That noon a dozen little dears
  Were spanked and put to bed
With naught to stay their appetites
  But cheerless crusts of bread.

That noon a dozen hired girls
  Washed out each gown and shirt
Which that exuberant Taylor pup
  Had frescoed o`er with dirt.

That whole day long the Aprile sun
  Smiled sweetly from above
On clotheslines flaunting to the breeze
  The emblems mothers love.

That whole day long the Taylor pup
  This way and that did hie
Upon his mad, erratic course,
  Intent on getting dry.

That night when Mr. Taylor came
  His vesper meal to eat,
He uttered things my pious pen
  Would liefer not repeat.

Yet still that noble Taylor pup
  Survives to romp and bark
And stumble over folks and things
  In fair Buena Park.

Good sooth, I wot he should be called
  Buena`s favorite son
Who`s sired of such a noble sire
  And dammed by every one!
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