An aged gardener gooseberries picked,
From off a gooseberry tree;
The thorns they oft his fingers pricked
Yet never a word said he.
A dog sat by him with a tail,
Oh! such a tail! I ween,
That never such in hill or dale,
Hath hitherto been seen.
It was a tail of desperate length,
A tail of grizzly fur,
A tail of muscle, bone, and strength
Unmeet for such a cur.
Yet of this tail the dog seemed proud
And ever and anon,
He raised his head, and barked so loud,
That tho’ the man seemed something cowed,
Yet still his work went on.
At length in lashing out its tail,
It twisted it so tight,
Around his legs, ’twas no avail,
To pull with all its might.
The gardener scarce could make a guess,
What round his legs had got,
Yet he worked on in weariness,
Although his wrath was hot.
“Why, what’s the matter?” he did say,
“I can’t keep on my feet,
Yet not a glass I’ve had this day
Save one, of brandy neat.
“Two quarts of ale, and one good sup,
Of whiskey sweet and strong,
And yet I scarce can now stand up,
I fear that something’s wrong.”
His work reluctantly he stopped,
The cause of this to view,
Then quickly seized an axe and chopped
The guilty tail in two.
When this was done, with mirth he bowed,
Till he was black and blue,
The dog it barked both long and loud,
And with good reason too.
Moral: “Don’t get drunk.”