The drops of rain were falling fast, When up through Camp-street quickly pass'd, An omnibus, whose driver sung, In accents of the Celtic tongue-- Ge-lang! git up!
His mules were lank, his whip was long; He touch'd them with a biting thong, And as they switch'd their threadbare tails, This sound the listening ear assails-- Ge-lang! git up!
Along the street, on every side, Were damp ones waiting for a ride; They call'd, they yell'd, they raised a fuss, But cried the driver of the 'bus. Ge-lang! git up!
"Hold on! hold on!" an old man said, And waved his hand above his head; Crack went the whip, and all could hear A sharp sound echoing on the ear-- Ge-lang! git up!
"Stop, driver, stop!" a maiden call'd "Stop, stop!" a dozen voices bawl'd The driver look'd on neither side, But still in clarion voice replied-- Ge-lang! git up!
Far up the street a sound was heard, And through the distance came a word That fell on many a waiting soul Like Hope's lugubrious funeral toll-- Ge-lang! git up!
That night the driver went to bed; All through his troubled sleep he said The same strange words which he had flung All day from his Jehuic tongue-- Ge-lang! git up!
Rats! rats! rats! Pen-and-ink rats in their holes on high, Writing libels for fools to buy; Squabbling ever--the same old tune-- The hinted lie, or the broad lampoon! Rats whose virtue can never fail, Though each one carries his price on his tail; Some bite like scorpions--some like gnats; Know ye the names of the Editor Rats?
Rats! rats! rats! Rats that the belfried churches nurse, Drearily drawling chapter and verse; Offering ever for human ills Only the barren letter that kills; Gnawing the Ark of the Covenant through, From velvet cushion to padded pew; Beating the dust to blind the flats! Know ye the names of the Reverend Rats?
Rats! rats! rats! Rats in ermine holding moot, With law in parcels at prices to suit; Shaping, inventing to cover the case, Precedent musty or dictum base, Gad! how they gibber to suitors below: "If so be it thus, why then thus be it so!" _Leges non curant--verhum sat!_ Know ye the name of the Legal Rat?
Rats! rats! rats! Rats in the ancient Temple of Mind-- Mumbling maggots and munching rind! Scrubbing and patching, splicing and jointing, With particles Greek and with Hebrew pointing. Proving virtue itself a sin, By a comma left out or a colon left in; Of guesses and glosses the autocrats: Know ye the names of the Learned Rats?