BURIDAN'S ASS.
(Modern Agricultural Version.)
[Buridan is said to have been the inventor of the dilemma of the ass between two absolutely equal bundles of hay, he maintaining that the ass's choice must be so equally balanced that he would starve, there being no motive for preference.]
Long-patient Issachar, o'erladen muncher
Of heaps of "vacant chaff well-meant for grain,"
If, like the pious spouse of Jerry Cruncher,
You "flop," and, camel-wise, won't rise again
To bear big burdens that strength staggers under,
On fodder most inadequate, what wonder?
To wallop a poor "donkey wot won't go,"
The good old song suggests is cruel folly.
Give him some fragrant hay, then cry "Gee-woa!"
The lyrist hints, in diction quaintly jolly.
From starving moke you'll get no progress steady;
The well-fed ass responds to "Gee-up, Neddy!"
Poor brute, between two piles of sapless chaff,
While such big burdens weigh your weary shoulders,
Your choice is difficult! Cynics may laugh,
But pity for your plight moves kind beholders.
Cockneys cry, "Kim hup, Neddy!" or "Woa, Emma!"
But Punch compassionates your hard dilemma.
What choice between the chaff of arid Rad
And that of equally dry-and-dusty Tory?
Chaplin would feed you on preposterous fad,
And Gardner on—postponement! The old story!
While the grass grows the horse may starve. Poor ass!
Party would bring you to a similar pass!
"A certain Mister Jesse Collings" poses
As your particular friend and patron. Quite so!
Joseph and he cock their pugnacious noses
At their old Chief, venting their zeal (and spite) so.
Codlin—no, Collings—is the friend. "Lard bless 'ee,
Turn Willyum oop, and try Joseph and Jesse!"
"Willyum"—who wields a very pretty flail—
Drubs them delightfully, 'midst general laughter.
But oh, poor ass, aching from head to tail,
Pray, what the better is your state thereafter?
Buridan's Ass was surely your twin brother.
There's such small difference 'twixt one and t'other!