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On New Year's Day we found out that we did not escape the year 2007 without the sudden and early loss of yet another good friend. Stopping for lunch at Schniepp's Bar down on East 8th, Bill Schniepp greeted us with the sad news that Jim (Dog) Daggit had passed away the previous night, unexpectedly. It was a heavy harvest last year, and a bitter one. When someone like the Dog is taken early, you ask yourself the classic question: With all the rotten people that infest this earth, why must we lose a guy like Jim Daggit before his time, who never gave offense, was always cheerful, humble, glad to see you, and never failed to brighten your day?
That is a question for a theologian, which I am not, but being a poet of sorts, consoled myself by writing these lines, and may they also console the Dog's many friends in some small way:
The Ballad of Dog Daggit
In an evil mood, Death flew
Down Mankato Avenue
Crossed the Hog Line at Sanborn
Determined that mankind should mourn;
He hovered near the hated sound
Of glasses raised round after round
By revelers at Schniepp's Bar and Grill
Who laugh to scorn and drink their fill
In spite of Time - and Death, her mate,
He found an object for his hate
In Dog Daggit, that font of cheer
Dispensing whiskey, wine and beer.
On New Year's Eve, I have a scheme,
Said Death, I'll sneak into his dream
With riches, youth, hot blood and sin
Besotted, he'll not wake again
Until he blinks in my dark lair,
He'll bring beer, wine and whiskey there
He'll serve us long, he'll serve us well
He'll make us fiends gay down in hell!
Now Gabriel, Angel of the Lord,
Patrolling with his righteous sword,
Heard the East End caterwaul,
And dogs set up the mournful howl;
Cloven hoofprints in the snow
Led to a sulphurous reek and glow
Where poor Dog carried wine and whiskey
To keep the devils feeling frisky
Gabriel cried, Satan, my friend
You've badly overstepped again
The Dog is high in Heaven's love
He's called for right now up above
We'll ne'er concede such skill to you
For serving up a frosty brew
Give him up, begone, now beat it!
I'll roast your tail and make you eat it
Should I catch you near Schniepp's again:
So let it be known to his friends,
Spread the news before the morrow
Grant them sweet surcease from sorrow,
The Dog is gone, but he's not lost,
He's serving as the Heavenly Host
J.E.
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