A Tale

Those rigid pedagogues and fools,
Who walk by self-invented rules,
Do often try with empty head,
The emptier mortals to mislead,
And fain would urge, that none but they
Could rightly teach the A, B, C,
On which they've got an endless comment,
To trifling minds of mighty moment,
Throwing forth barriers in the way
Of those who genius display,
As often, ah! too often teaze
Them out of patience, and of fees,
Before they're able to explode
Obstructions thrown on Learning's road.
May mankind all employ their tools
To banish pedantry from schools!
And may each pedagogue avail,
By list'ning to the after tale!
Wise Mr. Birch had long intended
The alphabet should be amended,
And taught that H a breathing was,
Ergo he saw no proper cause,
Why such a letter should exist:
Thus in a breath was he dismiss'd,
With, " O beware, beware, O youth!
" Take not the villain in your mouth. "
One day this alphabetic sinner
Was eager to devour his dinner,
When to appease the craving glutton,
His boy Tom produc'd the mutton.
Was such disaster ever told?
Alas! the meat was deadly cold!
Here take and h — eat it, says the master;
Quoth Tom, that shall be done, and fast, Sir:
And few there are who will dispute it;
And he went instantly about it;
For Birch had scorn'd the H to say,
And blew him with a puff away.
The bell was rung with dread alarm;
" Bring me the mutton, is it warm? "
Sir, you desir'd, and I have eat it;
" You lie, my orders were to heat it. "
Quoth Tom, I'll readily allow
That H is but a breathing now.
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