Black nose, with body brown and curly tail, Old fashion Pug 1 Come tell us whence you 4 hail!
Thy race declines, thy former history fades, Tho' once the idol of forlorn old maids. And t' were as well ; thy compact form displays Far nobler traits than speak thy meaner ways ; Pugnacious front, round head and daring eye, Thy bumps renowned Phrenologists defy. With noisy yelp, both friend and foe he hails, But briskly flies, when ought of pluck assails ; Growls at the moon, and starts at every crack. And at the sound of danger, turns his back. Doubtful his pedigree, his origin obtuse, 'Tis clear he's more for ornament than use ; Yet still, with all his faults, there surely is Something unique about his matchless phiz. He must have thought how men could be such brutes,
To pluck his hearing organs by the roots ; A fancy notion, say they, of the man, A Hollander, who brought him from Japan. Companion of the gentler sex alone, 'Tis thought that hence he might have timid grown ;
If true it be that " manners make the man," What makes the Pug ? let him decide who can.