The Lizards

A Naturalist, cruel as a Turk,
Two Lizards in his garden catches,
And coolly sets himself at work
To anatomize the little wretches.
The plumpest now he has dissected,
And torn the reptile limb from limb;
With microscope he then inspected
Intestines, paws, and tail, and skin;
He pulls apart, for scrutiny,
The loin and belly, neck and eye:
Then takes his pen--again he looks--
A little writes and recapitulates--
The memoranda enters in his books;
To fresh dissection then himself betakes.
Some curious friends, by chance, dropped in to see
The subject of his shrewd anatomy.
One wonders--questions one proposes--
While others yet turn up their noses.

This done, the scientific man
Gave o'er, exhausted with his labors.
The other Lizard jumped and ran,
In his old haunts, to join his neighbors.
To them, in friendly chat, he stated
The matters we have just related.

"You need not doubt it, friends,"--said he,--
"For everything myself did see.
The livelong day this man did spend
Over the body of our friend.
If, in us, attributes so rare
Are worth such pains in writing down,
To call us vermin who shall dare?
'Tis gross abuse--as all must own.
Now, noble brothers, our high station
Let us with dignity maintain, I pray.
Sure, we are worthy great consideration--
Whatever spiteful folks may say."

* * * * *

It is not worth the while to natter
The pride of writers we despise.
'Tis honoring too much the matter,
To condescend to criticize.
Their paltry trash in serious way
To note--your pains will never pay.

Of Lizards to make great account,
Gives them occasion to surmise
Their claims to be of some amount,
In the impartial public's eyes--
"Whatever spiteful folks may say."