Old Rover was a country dog,
He led a single life;
He always said he’d rather not
Be troubled with a wife.

One day beneath the orchard trees
With his friend Don he sat;
And about “meets” and sporting news
They had a pleasant chat.

At last Squire Rover said, “I mean,
While you’re a guest of mine
To ask the neighbours to the Hall,
With you, friend Don, to dine.”

Don wagged his tail, and thanked his friend
With very great delight;
“And may I ask,” he, smiling, said,
“What guests you will invite?”

“Well, let me see: there’s Mr. Bull,
And Mrs. Bull, his wife;
Jane Bull, and Mr. Newfoundland,
Who saved young master’s life.

“For ladies-young and pretty too-
There are Italian pets,
Toy terriers, and Cuba belles,
Who live in first-rate sets.

“And as for sporting characters,
I really needn’t say
How many members of the hunt
Have kennels down this way.”

Said Don, “A very pleasant set!
It will be quite a treat
So many worthy dogs, dear friend,
At your kind feast to meet.”

The invitations were sent out,
And no one can decline
At Rover’s hospitable board
With his friend Don to dine.

A cordial welcome they are sure
At Rover’s house to find;
And dogs, like children, love to go
Where friends are always kind.

And now the happy day is come,
The guests are ushered in;
And Rover, very grandly drest,
His friends is welcoming.

First to arrive is Mr. Bull-
He seldom is too late,
Though for his wife, and daughter too,
Sometimes compelled to wait.

Next comes Miss Fanny, Dressed in silk,
A gold chain round her neck,
Her black eyes shining like two stars;
With flowers her head is decked.

And by her side a noble dog,
Bearing a glorious name;
From snowy mountains far away,
General St. Bernard came.

The guests have all at last arrived;
Then loudly sounds the gong,
And to the dining-room, in pairs,
They slowly moved along.

And soon were seated at the feast-
A dinner à la Russe-
The soup and fish were handed round
By footmen grand in plush.

While all the time they ate and talked,
Dessert, attention claimed;
And very pretty looked the fruit
In autumn flowers framed

“I hope,” said worthy Mr. Bull,
“You’ll not forget, dear host,
To keep our good old custom up,
And let us drink a toast.”

Dog rover nodded an assent,
And rising, said “I give
The health of our most gracious Queen,
Long may Victoria live!”

And thus the pleasant evening sped
(Too rapid in its flight),
Until the ladies (with warm thanks)
To Rover bade “Good Night.”

Then, gathered in the smoking-room
To talk all matters over,
The sporting dogs remained awhile
With “that good fellow” Rover.

How long they sat and all they said
I shall not stop to say;
But I have heard they left the house
Just at the break of day.

From a Northern Irish fable about a dinner party for animals thrown by Rover the dog.