AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG

An ELEGY on the DEATH of a MAD DOG. WRITTEN By Dr GOLDSMITH PICTURED By R. Caldecott SUNG By Master Bill Primrose IN MEMORY OF TOBY

GOOD people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short,

It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there lived a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran,

Whene'er he went

to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad,

When he put on

his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found: As many dogs there be—

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;

But, when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all

the neighbouring streets

The wondering neighbours ran;

And swore the dog had lost his wits,

To bite so good a man.

The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every christian eye;

And while they swore the dog was mad,

They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light, That show'd the rogues they lied—

The man recover'd of the bite;

The dog it was that died.