The Gardens--so unlike the ones we dub Of Tea, wherein the artisan carouses-- Mere shrubberies without one drop of shrub-- Wherefore should they be closed like public-houses? No ale is vended at the wild Deer's Head-- No rum--nor gin--not even of a Monday-- The Lion is not carved--or gilt--or red, And does not send out porter of a Sunday-- But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy? The Bear denied! the Leopard under looks! As if his spots would give contagious fevers! The Beaver close as hat within its box; So different from other Sunday beavers! The Birds invisible--the Gnaw-way Rats-- The Seal hermetically sealed till Monday-- The Monkey tribe--the Family of Cats-- We visit other families on Sunday-- But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy What is the brute profanity that shocks The super-sensitively serious feeling? The Kangaroo--is he not orthodox To bend his legs, the way he does, in kneeling? Was strict Sir Andrew, in his Sabbath coat, Struck all a-heap to see a Coati mundi? Or did the Kentish Plumtree faint to note The Pelicans presenting bills on Sunday?-- But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy? What feature has repulsed the serious set? What error in the bestial birth or breeding, To put their tender fancies on the fret? One thing is plain--it is not in the feeding! Some stiffish people think that smoking joints Are carnal sins 'twixt Saturday and Monday-- But then the beasts are pious on these points, For they all eat cold dinners on a Sunday-- But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy? What change comes o'er the spirit of the place, As if transmuted by some spell organic? Turns fell Hyena of the Ghoulish race? The Snake, pro tempore, the true Satanic? Do Irish minds--(whose theory allows That now and then Good Friday falls on Monday)-- Do Irish minds suppose that Indian Cows Are wicked Bulls of Bashan on a Sunday?-- But what is your opinion, Mrs, Grundy? There are some moody Fellows, not a few, Who, turned by nature with a gloomy bias, Renounce black devils to adopt the blue, And think when they are dismal they are pious: Is't possible that Pug's untimely fun Has sent the brutes to Coventry till Monday?-- Or perhaps some animal, no serious one, Was overheard in laughter on a Sunday-- But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy? What dire offense have serious Fellows found To raise their spleen against the Regent's spinney? Were charitable boxes handed round, And would not Guinea Pigs subscribe their guinea? Perchance, the Demoiselle refused to molt The feathers in her head--at least till Monday; Or did the Elephant, unseemly, bolt A tract presented to be read on Sunday?-- But what is your opinion, Mrs, Grundy?