THE GENTLEMAN.
There once was an elderly gentleman,
Whose manners were soft and mild:
He doffed his hat to each woman he met,
He kissed his hand to each child.
He smiled and he bowed to meek and proud,
And thus to himself said he:
“A gentleman I, as none can deny,
So gentle I still must be!”
A-walking he went in a lane one day,—
A lane that was long and narrow;
And there in the path a rustic lay,
Beside his plough and harrow.
A ruffian and a gruffian he,
A horrid rustic for to see:
And all in the way he sprawling lay,
“I pray you, worthy friend, to rise!”
The gentleman mildly said;
But the ruffian glared with his ugly eyes,
And shook his ugly head.
“The ditch is wide on either side,
And dry enough,” quoth he;
“There’s room to pass, old Timothy-grass,
Without disturbing me.”
The gentleman smiled a charming smile,
And bowed a gracious bow;
And looking around with his glass the while,
He spied a grazing cow.
“As sure as I live, a lesson I’ll give,”
Thought he, “to my rustic friend.
I’ll warrant me yet he’ll not forget
The rustic lay in the path and snored;
The cow ate grass and lowed;
The gentleman took her and gently shook her,
And led her along the road.
Then he took a string, and an iron ring,
And the end of the cow’s loose tether,
And harrow and plough and ruffian and cow,
He fastened them all together.
“And now, my friend,” he sweetly said,
“Since you have not the strength to rise,
The means for a ride I am glad to provide,
And I trust that the same you’ll prize!”
He pulled a switch from the wayside ditch,
Gave Moolly a sounding blow,
And off with a wallop she set at a gallop,
The rustic, the plough and the harrow went, too,
A-bumping along the stones;
The rustic did yell, oh! and Moolly did bellow,
You’d think they were breaking their bones.
But the gentleman smiled, and pensive and mild,
On his peaceful way went he:
“A gentleman I, as none can deny,
So gentle I still must be!”