Classic Poem

The nimble stag awoke at dawn;
He had been petted when a tawn,
And nourished in a park with care
By gallant men and ladies fair
But now he had two horns in front
And was quite old enough to hunt.

The Muddlebury Staghounds are
Exceedingly particular.
They choose the stag they think most fleet,
And then they cart it to the meet,
And hunt it up and down all day
And slaughter it when dusk is gray
(Unless, of course, it gets away).

The stag that I was speaking of,
Although it had a trifling cough,
Was otherwise quite fit and well,
And ran like — well, it ran quite well.
And after a tremendous chase
It doubled at a fearful pace
To Muddlebury Market-Place,
In which there stands an oil-cake shop,
With office buildings at the top.
The stag, whose heart went pit-a-pat,
Decided to run into that.
It ran upstairs with nimble hoof,
And somehow got onto the roof.

Of course there was a hue and cry,
And everybody said, " My eye!
Did you observe the stag come by? "
The clerks' excitement knew no bounds,
They all came out to see the hounds:
When suddenly — we can't inquire
Exactly how — the shop caught fire.
There never had been such a blaze
Since Muddlebury's earliest days.

The fire brigade with hose and spout
Did all they could to put it out.
But fearful consternation reigned
When they perceived the stag remained
High up alone upon a ledge,
Of which the flames had reached the edge.
The Master, Mr. Samuel Jape,
Went swiftly up the fire-escape,
And he was followed by the Whip,
Whose name, I think, was Reuben Tripp;
The Vicar and the Squire, as well,
Dashed bravely through the blazing hell.
They fought amidst the fiery fumes
That filled the charred and gutted rooms;
The firemen simply did not dare
To follow them, though brave they were.
Ah! how the people shouted when
That little group of stalwart men
Were finally observed to drag
Onto the fire-escape the stag,
Though since the building was so hot
They most of them were burned a lot;
They lowered it with anxious face
To Muddlebury Market-Place.
But that did not complete the task,
They gave it brandy from a flask,
And tried its feeble pulse to stir,
And stuck a glass thermometer
Into its mouth below the tongue,
Until its nerves were less unstrung.
Then when the stag at last revived,
Though not before the vet arrived,
The Master said to Reuben Tripp,
" He almost gave my hounds the slip!
Suppose he had a feed of hay,
Could we go on, d'you think, today? "
But Reuben Tripp replied with sorrow,
" Scarcely today, sir. Say, tomorrow. "

So when the morrow morning came
They carted out that stag of fame,
And after an exciting run
Killed him at Little Wurzelton.
And only then did it transpire
That both the Vicar and the Squire
Were still unrescued from the fire.