MUZZLED AND PUZZLED; OR, "LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG."
(A Carol of Kentish Conservatism. Some way after Goldsmith.)
Good Tories all, of County Kent,
Give ear unto my song,
And spare your puerile intent
To do your Party wrong.
* * * *
There was a mighty Minister,
To power appointed late;
A virtuous and valiant Vir,
A Pillar of the State.
If one who doth fat oxen drive
Should in himself be fat,
This Minister seemed bound to thrive
As to his post most pat.
A more bucolic personage
Bucolics never sang;
And when he took that post and wage,
All round his praises rang.
O'er Agriculture to preside,
Chaplin was surely born;
He bore his honours with the pride
Of Chanticleer at morn.
In Kent there were some Tories found,
For Tories still there be;
In fact, the species doth abound
In spite of W. G.
Chaplin and they at first were friends,
But when a feud began
They—whom a little thing offends—
Rounded on that good man.
The motto of these Men of Kent
Was, "Love me, love my Dog;"
And soon with angry discontent
The County was agog.
For Chaplin—it was like his cheek,
Cockiest of Ministers!—
Quite supererogant, did seek
To muzzle Kentish Curs!
Around to all the counties near
An angry protest ran;
To touch a Kentish dog, 'tis clear,
Touches a Kentish Man.
Fanatic lovers of the hound
Scorn hygienic laws,
And though their dogs should snap all round
You must not bind their jaws.
Restraint appeared both sore and sad
To every Kentish eye,
And, whilst they swore the Man was mad,
They swore the Dogs would die.
Nay, more, there came this fearsome threat
From true-blue Tory throats:
"With muzzles if our dogs you fret,
You shall not have our votes!"
O patriots true! Rads grin with glee!
The puzzle Chaplin fogs;
'Tis plain that Party loyalty
Is going to the dogs!
Kent's choice 'twixt Party seems, and pup,
The question stirs the town,
Whether the Tories will give up,
Or Chaplin will climb down!
