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The MAD DOG

ONE OF R. CALDECOTT'S PICTURE BOOKS

Frederick Warne and Co. Ltd.

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An ELEGY on the DEATH of a MAD DOG.

WRITTEN By Dr GOLDSMITH

PICTURED By R. CALDECOTT

SUNG By Master BILL PRIMROSE

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Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long.

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In Islington there lived a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray.

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A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes

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And in that town a dog was found: As many dogs there be-- Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.

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This dog and man at first were friends; But, when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man.

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Around from all the neighbouring streets The wondering neighbours ran; And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man.

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The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die

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But soon a wonder came to light, That show'd the rogues they lied-- The man recover'd of the bite; The dog it was that died.

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