Classic Poem

Who has e'er been at Clapham must needs know the pond
That belongs to Sir Barnaby Sturch:
'Tis well stock'd with fish; and the knight's rather fond
Of bobbing for tench or for perch.

When he draws up his line, to decide if all's right,
Moist drops o'er his pantaloons dribble;
Though seldom, if ever, beguiled by a bite,
He now and then boast of a nibble.

Vulgar mud, very like vulgar men, will encroach
Unchecked by the spade and the rake;
In process of time it enveloped the roach
In Sir Barnaby's Lilliput lake.

Five workmen, well armed, and denuded of shoes,
Now fearlessly delved in the flood;
To steal unawares on the Empress of Ooze,
And cart off her insolent mud.

The innocent natives were borne from the bog,
Eet, minnow, and toad, felt the shovel,
And lizard-like eft lay with fugitive frog
In a clay-built extempore hovel.

The men worked away with their hands and their feet,
And delved in a regular ring;
When lo! as their taskword was all but complete,
They wakened a mineral spring.

" We've found a Chalybeate , sir, " cried the men;
" We halt till we know what your wish is " —
" Keep it safe, " quoth the knight, " till you've finish'd, and then
Throw it back with the rest of the fishes. "