Classic Poem

A donkey whose talent for burden was wondrous,
So much that you'd swear he rejoiced in a load,
One day had to jog under panniers so pond'rous,
That — down the poor donkey fell, smack on the road.

His owners and drivers stood round in amaze —
What! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy
So easy to drive through the dirtiest ways,
For every description of job-work so ready!

One driver (whom Ned might have " hail'd " as a " brother " )
Had just been proclaiming his donkey's renown,
For vigor, for spirit, for one thing or other —
When, lo! 'mid his praises, the donkey came down.

But, how to upraise him? — one shouts, t'other whistles,
While Jenky, the conjurer, wisest of all,
Declared that an " over-production " of thistles —
(Here Ned gave a stare) — was the cause of his fall.

Another wise Solomon cries, as he passes —
" There, let him alone, and the fit will soon cease;
The beast has been fighting with other jack-asses,
And this is his mode of " transition to peace " "

Some look at his hoofs, and, with learned grimaces,
Pronounced that too long without shoes he had gone —
" Let the blacksmith provide him a sound metal basis
(The wiseacres said), and he's sure to jog on. "

But others who gabbled a jargon half Gaelic,
Exclaim'd, " Hoot awa, mon, you're a' gane astray " —
And declared that " whoe'er might prefer the metallic ,
They'd shoe their own donkeys with papier mache . "

Meanwhile the poor Neddy, in torture and fear,
Lay under his panniers, scarce able to groan,
And, what was still dolefuler — lending an ear
To advisers whose ears were a match for his own.

At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far
As to see others' folly, roar'd out as he pass'd —
" Quick — off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are,
Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last. "