THE SQUEALER.

Of course some people are born so bright

That no matter what one may say, or write,

The theme is old and the lesson is trite,

Which is what you may say, as these lines unreel

And I mildly suggest it is better to feel

Than to squeal.

Everybody knows that? Yes, it's certain they do,

Everybody, that is, with exception of two,

Of whom I am one and the other is you.

But for us the lesson is still remote,

Although we commit it and cite it and quote

It by rote.

But still when you thrill with the thudding thump

From the fist of the fellow you tried to bump

And the world looks hard at the swelling lump,

There's a strong temptation to open your door

And invite the public to hear you roar

That you're sore.

And again, tho’‘ tis plain as the printed page:—

“Keep your hand on the lever and watch the gauge

When the fire-pot's full and the boilers rage,”

How often the steam-pressure grows and grows

And before the engineer cares or knows,

Up she goes.

So why should you fret if I send you to school

Again to consider the sapient rule

That Wisdom is Silence and Speech is a Fool.

Close up! and a year from to-day you will kneel

And thank the good Lord that you knew how to feel

And not squeal.