HE BURIED THE GOOSE

HE BURIED THE GOOSE

This is an ancient story,

Brought down from olden time,
But not before related

In modern verse or rhyme.

A celebrated preacher,

Of fair Columbia's land,
Assayed to mend Christ's gospel,

And change the Lord's command.

He was a Presbyterian,

Of stiff and stately mien,
A doctor of divinity,

Also a college dean.

The text that caused his trouble,

And vexed him deep and sore,
Was that which says, "We're buried,"

Viz., Romans 6 and 4.

He figured and he triggered,

And he wrestled day and night,
And then he preached a sermon

To set the passage right.

"It is a high-wrought figure,

As you can plainly see,
The sinner's heart is sprinkled,

His soul from sin is free."

"Dead to the world and buried,

Not in the earthly sod,
Nor in a pond of water,

But 'hid with Christ in God.'"

"I sprinkle holy water

Upon this person's face,
An outward sign or symbol,

Of inward saving grace."

True, Barnes and Schaff and Chalmers,

(Great Presbyterians all,)
And Dr. Clark and Wesley,

And the great Dr. Wall,

Said 'bury' here means 'bury,'

And in the water, too,
And so said all the scholars

The Christian ages through.

But this great reverend doctor,

As stated in my rhyme,

Said bury meant to sprinkle

In that old ancient time.

He closed his wondrous sermon,

And drove off to his home,
Great thoughts still corruscating

Within his mental dome.

He thought, "What great sensation

My sermon will produce!
When, at the gate his carriage

Crushed dead a gentle goose!

He told his little Johnny

(Fair bud of high-born race)
To take the goose and bury it

In some secluded place.

John took the defunct goosey,

And, by the orchard fence,
A Presbyterian funeral

Did there at once commence.

"Now, this poor, luckless goosey

To this old world is dead,
And I'll proceed to bury

As father's sermon said."

He took up dust, a spoonful,

Within his little hand,
And on the goose's caput,

He sprinkled down the sand.

"Now, goosey, you are buried,

In figurative speech,
You're planted and you're hidden,

As Presbyterians teach!"

The preacher soon discovered

The goose above the ground,
And then his indignation

Knew neither let nor bound.

He called up little Johnny,

He seized an oaken lath,
And gave an exhibition

Of Presbyterian wrath!

"You are the meanest urchin

In this religious land,
To disregard my orders

And break my plain command!"

"Why, dad, the goose is buried,

'Tis now beneath the sod,
I kept your word as strictly

As you obey your God!"

"To bury means to sprinkle,

And that was your command,
And on the head of goosey

I poured a little sand!"

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