11- The Awful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles
MUNKUSTRAP: The Pekes and the Pollicles, as everyone knows. Are proud and implacable passionate foes It is always the same, wherever one goes And the Pugs and the Poms, although most people say That they do not like fighting, yet once in a way, They will now and again join in to the fray
And they
CHORUS: Bark bark bark bark Bark bark BARK BARK!
MUNKUSTRAP: Until you can hear them all over the park
Now on the occasion of which I shall speak Almost nothing had happened for nearly a week (And that's a long tome for a Pol or a Peke) The big Police Dog was away from his beat-- I don't know the reason, but most people think He'd slipped into the Wellington Arms for a drink-- And no one at all was about on the street When a Peke and a Pollicle happened to meet They did not advance, or exactly retreat, But they glared at each other, and scraped their hind feet,
And started to
CHORUS: Bark bark bark bark Bark bark BARK BARK!
MUNKUSTRAP: Until you could hear them all over the park
Now the Peke, although people may say what they please Is no British Dog, but a heathen Chinese And so all the Pekes, when they heard the uproar Some came to the window, some came to the door There were surely a dozen, more likely a score And together they started to grumble and wheeze In their huffery-snuffery heathen Chinese But a terrible din is what Pollicles like For your Pollicle Dog is a dour Yorkshire tyke, And is braw Scottish cousins are snappers and biters, And every dog-jack of them notable fighters; And so they stepped out, with their pipers in order, Playing When the Blue Bonnets Came Over the Border Then the Pugs and the Poms held no longer aloof, But some from the balcony, some from the roof, Joined in to the din With a
CHORUS: Bark bark bark bark Bark bark BARK BARK!
MUNKUSTRAP: Until you could hear them all over the park
CHORUS: There are dogs out of every nation, The Irish, the Welsh and the Dane; The Russian, the Dutch the Dalmatian, And even from China and Spain; The Poodle, the Pom, the Alsatian And the mastiff who walks on a chain And to those that are frisky and frollical Let my meaning be perfectly plain; That my name it is Little Tom Pollicle-- And you'd better not do it again
MUNKUSTRAP: Now when these bold heroes together assembled, The traffic all stopped, and the Underground trembled, And some of the neighbors were so much afraid That they started to ring up the Fire Brigade
When suddenly, up from a small basement flat, Why who should stalk out but THE GREAT RUMPUSCAT! His eyes were like fireballs fearfully blazing, He gave a great yawn, and his jaws were amazing; And when he looked through the bars of the area You never saw anything fiercer or hairier And what with the glare of his eyes and his yawning The Pekes and the Pollicles quickly took warning He looked at the sky and he gave a great leap-- And they every last one of them scattered like sheep
And when the Police Dog returned to his beat, There wasn't a single one left in the street