ODE TO A MULE
[Major Charles W. Allen was editor of the Chadron Democrat. He used regularly to demolish the writer with his logic and invective.
The only possible revenge was to print verses in my own paper with his name as author. As he was an ardent, unreasonable democrat this verse seemed peculiarly his own. It is still preserved in scrap books of Mr. Allen's friends as a fine example of sound democratic writing.]
O modest mule! On thee I dote.
Thy mild and melancholy note
Is sweeter far than fife or drum
Upon my raptured tympanum,
Thy naive, unstudied, mulish grace
Here in my heart has found thee place
Dear border tough.
All hail ! Most royal mule. Thy mug
Is pleasant as an uncorked jug
Unto my eyes. Let other poets praise
The camp, the court: if my poor lays
But imitate thy soulful brays
It is enough.
Thrice hail ! my fellow democrat.
To thee I doff my Cleveland hat.
Thou slow to drive and hard to lead—
Type of the true Jacksonian breed:
Let envious ballet-girls turn sick.
Thy robust limbs and lofty kick
Proclaim thee master of that art;
Dear Democratic counterpart
This is no bluff!
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