Classic Poem

He was th' kind of a man, you know, that looks like a three-time winner,
Breezy an' brash, but onto th' job; allus right up an' doin',
Smooth in his talk, as a gineral thing; but horrible stern with the sinner
That didn't square up t' th' standards he set; trouble fer him was brewin'!
A " prominent man " with a aim that was high,
But he didn't like dorgs — an' I wondered why.

Strong in th' civic spirit game, an' given t' public speakin',
Hammerin' down his arguments with fists that was fat an' steady;
Hollerin' big fer th' Great Uplift, an' frownin' on folks that weaken
In th' battle o' life or ain't all set fer th' fight — an' willin' and ready.
An' yit , whenever a dorg come by,
That dorg would growl — an' I wondered why.

Got good men t' back up his plan; listened t' all he told 'em;
Give him money whenever he ast, fer th' sake of th' good he was schemin',
Until one day * * * Well, he didn't show up. Gone with the cash! He'd sold 'em
A fine little gold brick — just like that — while they was asleep and dreamin'!
He didn't like dorgs . And somehow, I
Ain't disposed now t' question why!