The Mystery

Heard a rustle in the brush Only yesternight; Heard a rustle in the hush, Somethin’ out of sight-- Jest a footfall on the ground, Shakin’ of a tree; But we argued all around What the thing could be.

Jack, the stable-boy, he said Likely ’twas a colt-- Farmer’s colt thet got its head, Broke its halter holt. Bill, the cookhouse flunkey, swore ’Twas a bear er cub Huntin’ round the cookhouse door Fer a snack of grub.

Pete, who likes to hunt when Fall Comes around each year, Said it wasn’t that at all-- Thet it was a deer. Frank, who drives the two-ox pair, Said they made him laff, Said their colt er deer er bear Simply was a caff.

So they set an’ argufied What the thing could be; Ev’ry fellah took a side, Had a theory. Jack he chinned it with the chaps, Bill with all the boys; Mac, who’s deef, he said perhaps There wasn’t any noise.

What the rustle was about, No one ever knew; But one fact I figgered out From that gabby crew: People look with diff’rent eyes, Hear with diff’rent ears; That what closest to them lies Ev’rything appears.

Ev’ry nation is the best To the man from there, Ev’ry state beats all the rest When their sons compare. Do you wonder at the lot Of religious creeds?-- Each a special God has got Fer his special needs.

Harps an’ music fer the gay, Huntin’ fer the red; Atheists expect to stay Permanently dead; Streets of sapphire fer the Jew; Fer the weary, rest-- Each, accordin’ to his view, Thinks his heaven best.

An’ I’m puzzled, I admit, Puzzled at the maze-- Heaven, you kin figger it Forty-seven ways: Heaven with a street of gold; With a jasper gate; Heaven where the very old Still must sit an’ wait.

If there are so many there, There beyond the blue, Heavens round an’ heavens square, Gentile, Injun, Jew-- All thet I can do is trust, Since they can’t agree, When I lay me “dust to dust” There’ll be one fer me.