Than go free,
With the chance of "going off," giving friend or foe a bite.
And be clubbed to death or shot, murdered in my master's sight,
Don't suit _me_!

Never mind the fussy frumps, the old women of each sex;
Better raise their ready wrath than the prudent public vex
With crass rules.
Muzzles now and collars then, partial orders soon relaxed;
Men rebel when with caprice they are tied, or teased, or taxed,
Else they're fools.

Keep the muzzles on a year, regularly, and _all round_,
Every doggy of high breed, mongrel puppy, whelp or hound,
Will give thanks
To the Minister who tries hydrophobia to stamp out
Once for all o'er all the land, with consistency, and without
Pottering pranks!

Mr. CHAPLIN, take my tip! Science speaks in the same sense,
So does true philanthropy. Ought to have effect immense,
What they say.
Heed not that old woman there, with her spoilt and yelping pet;
I for every dog of _nous_ in the country speak, you bet.
Try! _Good_-day!

[_Trots out, comfortably muzzled_.

* * * * *