Bob Ruly's Experiences at the Fair [pp. 453-458]

Bob Ruly's Experiences at the Fair.
When the Paradise animals, harmless and tame,
Each ran up to Adam, to learn his own nameWhen the beasts, as the flood was beginning to pelter,
All fled to the ark of old Noah for shelterThese patriarchs old had a greater variety,
But not greater numbers of bestial society.
There were hogs in abundance, whose grunting and bristles
Are not a fit theme for my graceful epistles;
For to introduce hogs in these verses of mine
Were as foolish as casting my pearls before swineThere were Devons and Durhams all fat, sleek and lazy,
And the lithe-limbed and fawn-footed cattle of KhaisiThere were sheep of all kinds in the spacious arena,
The South Down, the Cotswold, the matchless MerinoBut, alas! their fine fleece for another's gay robe is,
"Sic vellera fertis vos oves non vobis."
Then there were the fowls snugly cooped up together,
Although not exactly all birds of a featherThere were geese keeping up a perpetual gabble
Like their human name-sakes the geese of the rabbleThere were Shanghai and Chittagong chickens, in fine, a
Most splendid variety all cotch in China.
But the muse doesn't feel in the humour to tattle
Of hogs and of sheep, and of chickens and cattle —
For further particulars choosing to urge all
To read Esop's fables and Georgics of VirgilThen there were the jockies all whirling around
At "two-forty" or less, and scarce touching the ground,
Like Phaeton, son of the light-giving sire,
Ambitious of setting the world upon fire.
"You'll run over a child, if you do not take care,"
I said to one swell, with a wagon and pair,
But he only replied, as the faster he drove'em,
"I think it quite likely, there's so many of'emr."
As I wended my way through the mass of machinery,
To get some fresh air and a glimpse of the scenery,
I caught my old sweet-heart Matilda's bright azure eyeShe had come all the way to this cattle menagerieBut she bowed very coldly and looked on the ground
While I, little caring, kept bobbing aroundI thought I would tell you, as you might evince a dint
Of pity at such an unfortunate incident.
But stranger than all are the tents just outside, as
The Yankee imposters make money like MidasWith their monsters, and dwarfs and their thimble-rigs, darn'em,
They distance in swindling illustrious Barnum,
To each annual Fair a new scion there comes
Of that race so prolific of General Thumbs,
Who sit in their tents like a little Pelides,
With their cocked hat, and rapier which hung to their side is.
1856.1
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