It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed
When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road;
But there's also another account of the hunt
With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front.

If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek
He's sure to look in--in the course of the week,
When his massive appearance will comfort your cook,
Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book.

His _obiter dicta_ on life and the law
Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw;
But the elders repose an implicit belief
In so splendid a product of beer and of beef.

He's the strongest and solidest man in the place,
Nothing--short of mad cattle--can quicken his pace;
His moustache would do credit to any dragoon,
And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon.

His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat,
He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street;
And I doubt if his critics will ever complain
Of his being a little deficient in brain.

For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map;
His going would cause a deplorable gap;
And the village would suffer as heavy a slump
As it would from the loss of the old parish pump.