 | Uncollected Poems of James Russell Lowell |  |
A WORTHY DITTY
As I, one day, went on my way,
A rowdy ill-conducted
Growled, “You low whelp, I want your help
To get me reconstructed;
A gone-up man, I've (hic) a plan
Of asking your assistance;
So give 's your cash at once, by dash!
And keep your (hic) your distance!”
A rowdy ill-conducted
Growled, “You low whelp, I want your help
To get me reconstructed;
A gone-up man, I've (hic) a plan
Of asking your assistance;
143
And keep your (hic) your distance!”
Said I, “You 're not precisely what
I call a civil person;
You 're one I 'd list to use my fist
Much sooner than my purse on;
However, come, give up your rum
And all that 's been your ruin,
Drop your big airs, and your affairs
I'll see what I can do in.”
I call a civil person;
You 're one I 'd list to use my fist
Much sooner than my purse on;
However, come, give up your rum
And all that 's been your ruin,
Drop your big airs, and your affairs
I'll see what I can do in.”
'T was plain my man from such a plan
Of doing things relucted;
“I don't,” said he, “(hic) want to be
In your way reconstructed;
Not I, by dash! and you I'll thrash
For treating me this fashion!”
With that he drew a knife, and flew
Into a tearing passion.
Of doing things relucted;
“I don't,” said he, “(hic) want to be
In your way reconstructed;
Not I, by dash! and you I'll thrash
For treating me this fashion!”
With that he drew a knife, and flew
Into a tearing passion.
Said I, “Heyday, why, that 's the way
They do things in Timbuctoo;
And the police must keep the peace,
And help you reconstruct, too:
Then (as I called, and wildly bawled
“Take this man to the lock-up!”)
Straight saw I come a giant glum,
With blue close-buttoned frock, up.
They do things in Timbuctoo;
And the police must keep the peace,
And help you reconstruct, too:
Then (as I called, and wildly bawled
“Take this man to the lock-up!”)
Straight saw I come a giant glum,
With blue close-buttoned frock, up.
Said he, “I think the man's in drink,
You 'd better not molest him;
'T would only get him madder yet,
If I should try arrest him.”
“But don't you see,” I cried, “that he
Upon me run a muck did?”
Said he, “Mere play; it 's just his way
Of getting reconstructed.”
You 'd better not molest him;
'T would only get him madder yet,
If I should try arrest him.”
“But don't you see,” I cried, “that he
Upon me run a muck did?”
Said he, “Mere play; it 's just his way
Of getting reconstructed.”
I turned to go; my rowdy, though,
Was burning for the strife yet,
And muttered deep, “My grudge I'll keep,
And have your dash-dashed life yet!”
“Is it not, then, just such vile men,”
I thought, “we 've bolts and keys for?”
And musing went, with eyebrows bent,
“What do we pay police for?”
Was burning for the strife yet,
And muttered deep, “My grudge I'll keep,
And have your dash-dashed life yet!”
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I thought, “we 've bolts and keys for?”
And musing went, with eyebrows bent,
“What do we pay police for?”
| Uncollected Poems of James Russell Lowell | |