I’ll sing a curious little song,
Perhaps you’ll find it dull and dreary;
In truth, I drive the Muse along,
And often notice she is weary.
To sing of dog days I’ll confess
Requires a lot of nerve and notion,
Still, if you’ll bear with me, I guess,
You’ll save lost motion.
When Sirius upon the scene
Climbs upward with his constellation,
The other stars feel real mean,
And drive the world to consternation;
Poor mortals must, perforce, throw fits,
Or seek the heart-destroying places;
Freak baths allure, the mud and sitz
Preserve our graces.
The angry stars get jealous now
Of Sirius, who roars and blusters —
He stirs all heaven to a row
With hypochondriac-like flusters.
Throughout this time when flies abaft
Our beam refuse to let us swat them,
This heavenly bully drives us daft —
We know we’ve “got them.”
Our cows — they give us buttermilk;
Our pigs break through our beds of tulips;
Our silk worms all refuse to silk,
We keep alive by mock mint juleps;
Just how we strive through heat and wet
Proves that our life’s no bed of clover —
Well — let us sweat and swear and get
These dog days over!
Fort Wayne Weekly Sentinel (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Jul 23, 1917
Misfortune ne’er leaves us,
A fact which is plain —
The dog days have left us,
But cat nights remain.
— Detroit Tribune.
Decatur Herald (Decatur, Illinois) Aug 29, 1905
FOR HOT WEATHER.
Dog Days and Cat Nights.
“Making any progress toward getting acquainted with those fashionable people next door?”
“Just a little. Their cat invited our cat over to a musicale last night.”
Fitchburg Daily Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Aug 31, 1918