Guest guest Posted November 20, 2007 Report Share Posted November 20, 2007 Contributed by my friend and Vegetarian Network of Dallas member, Rusty Posch. Thanks, Rusty. MM "RAGS" --- Edmund Vance Cooke We called him "Rags." He was just a cur,But twice, on the Western Line,That little old bunch of faithful furHad offered his life for mine. And all that he got was bones and bread,Or the leavings of soldier grub,But he'd give his heart for a pat on the head,Or a friendly tickle and rub.And Rags got home with the regiment,And then, in the breaking away --Well, whether they stole him, or whether he went,I am not prepared to say. But we mustered out, some to beer and gruel,And some to sherry and shad,And I went back to the Sawbones School,Where I still was an undergrad. One day they took us budding M.D.sTo one of those institutesWhere they demonstrate every new diseaseBy means of bisected brutes.They had one animal tacked and tiedAnd slit like a full-dressed fish,With his vitals pumping away insideAs pleasant as one might wish. I stopped to look like the rest, of course,And the beast's eyes leveled mine;His short tail thumped with a feeble force,And he uttered a tender whine. It was Rags, yes, Rags! who was martyred there,Who was quartered and crucified,And he whined that whine which is doggish prayerAnd he licked my hand -- and died. And I was no better in part nor wholeThan the gang I was found among,And his innocent blood was on the soulWhich he blessed with his dying tongue. Well! I've seen men go to courageous deathIn the air, on sea, on land!But only a dog would spend his breathIn a kiss for his murderer's hand.And if there's no heaven for love like that,For such four-legged fealty -- well!If I have any choice, I tell you flat,I'll take my chance in hell. Be a better sports nut! Let your teams follow you with Mobile. Try it now. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 21, 2007 Report Share Posted November 21, 2007 I did a Google search and found references that said " Rags " was based on a true story. Also, I found " Rags " was published in a 1936 anthology of best loved poems by the America people. http://www.iblist.com/book30293.htm I looked up the poet Edmund Vance Cooke and found that he lived 1866-1932. If anyone can find the exact date this poem was published and details of the background story on which it was based, please post. I'd like to know. Thanks. Margaret , Margaret Morin <dogs_good wrote: > > Contributed by my friend and Vegetarian Network of Dallas member, Rusty Posch. Thanks, Rusty. MM > > " RAGS " --- Edmund Vance Cooke > > We called him " Rags. " He was just a cur, > But twice, on the Western Line, > That little old bunch of faithful fur > Had offered his life for mine. > > And all that he got was bones and bread, > Or the leavings of soldier grub, > But he'd give his heart for a pat on the head, > Or a friendly tickle and rub. > > And Rags got home with the regiment, > And then, in the breaking away -- > Well, whether they stole him, or whether he went, > I am not prepared to say. > > But we mustered out, some to beer and gruel, > And some to sherry and shad, > And I went back to the Sawbones School, > Where I still was an undergrad. > > One day they took us budding M.D.s > To one of those institutes > Where they demonstrate every new disease > By means of bisected brutes. > > They had one animal tacked and tied > And slit like a full-dressed fish, > With his vitals pumping away inside > As pleasant as one might wish. > > I stopped to look like the rest, of course, > And the beast's eyes leveled mine; > His short tail thumped with a feeble force, > And he uttered a tender whine. > > It was Rags, yes, Rags! who was martyred there, > Who was quartered and crucified, > And he whined that whine which is doggish prayer > And he licked my hand -- and died. > > And I was no better in part nor whole > Than the gang I was found among, > And his innocent blood was on the soul > Which he blessed with his dying tongue. > > Well! I've seen men go to courageous death > In the air, on sea, on land! > But only a dog would spend his breath > In a kiss for his murderer's hand. > > And if there's no heaven for love like that, > For such four-legged fealty -- well! > If I have any choice, I tell you flat, > I'll take my chance in hell. > > > > > > Be a better sports nut! Let your teams follow you with Mobile. Try it now. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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