 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
221
Parodies, Etc.
THE COVENTRY LEGEND.
There was a wife in Coventry
Whose name was Mrs. Brown,
Her husband was a hightoned bird,
The Mayor of the town.
Whose name was Mrs. Brown,
Her husband was a hightoned bird,
The Mayor of the town.
He did misuse the people so,
It raised an awful storm,
Till Mrs. Brown declared she would
Inaugurate reform.
It raised an awful storm,
Till Mrs. Brown declared she would
Inaugurate reform.
The old gent said he'd yield him to
The prayers of Mrs. Brown,
If she would ride upon a mule
All naked through the town.
The prayers of Mrs. Brown,
If she would ride upon a mule
All naked through the town.
She quick did let the people know,
The promise of old Brown,
And they unto their houses hied,
While she rode through the town.
The promise of old Brown,
And they unto their houses hied,
While she rode through the town.
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But one old rooster, bald and grey,
Upon his knees went down,
And peeped out through the keyhole at
The disrobed Mrs. Brown.
Upon his knees went down,
And peeped out through the keyhole at
The disrobed Mrs. Brown.
Straightway his eyes fell out, and he
Forever more was blind,
And ever after lived a life
Detested by mankind.
Forever more was blind,
And ever after lived a life
Detested by mankind.
But always to his dying day,
That ornery rooster bald,
The sight of glowing Mrs. Brown
With unfeigned bliss recalled.
That ornery rooster bald,
The sight of glowing Mrs. Brown
With unfeigned bliss recalled.
223
REALLY TOO UTTERLY-QUITE.
Ah, bring me the sunflower and lily,
Let me live in the glorious sight;
Though Philistines say it is silly,
It is really too utterly-quite.
Let me live in the glorious sight;
Though Philistines say it is silly,
It is really too utterly-quite.
Let me twine, let each member contorted
Show visions aesthetic and bright;
What is art if we are not distorted
And really too utterly-quite?
Show visions aesthetic and bright;
What is art if we are not distorted
And really too utterly-quite?
Let the dull-faced green be my raiment,
Relieved by no touches of light,
We'll talk not of tailor's repayment,
For we're really too utterly-quiet!
Relieved by no touches of light,
We'll talk not of tailor's repayment,
For we're really too utterly-quiet!
If aesthetic perfection you long for,
And wish for a bask in the sight,
In the Park we go in rather strong for
We're really too utterly-quiet!
And wish for a bask in the sight,
In the Park we go in rather strong for
We're really too utterly-quiet!
“Quite too too!” you hear the words muttered,
Ah yes, the thing here is quite right,
Man and woman are thoroughly “uttered”
And are really too utterly-quite!
Ah yes, the thing here is quite right,
Man and woman are thoroughly “uttered”
And are really too utterly-quite!
(Attributed to) Col. John Arkins.
August 28th, 1881.
224
WE ARE SEVEN.
I met a doctor rolling up
His wild and fireful eyes,
His lofty brow was clouded o'er
With an impression wise;
Quoth I, “Pray tell me, if you please,
Why roll your eyes to heaven?”
“Alas,” he answered with a sigh,
“It is because we're seven!”
His wild and fireful eyes,
His lofty brow was clouded o'er
With an impression wise;
Quoth I, “Pray tell me, if you please,
Why roll your eyes to heaven?”
“Alas,” he answered with a sigh,
“It is because we're seven!”
There's Bliss and Barnes and Hamilton,
And Agnew, which makes four,
And Woodward, Baxter and myself,
Thank God, there ain't no more!
We've fooled around for forty days,
And yet, so help me heaven,
We haven't done a bit more good
Than if we were not seven!”
And Agnew, which makes four,
And Woodward, Baxter and myself,
Thank God, there ain't no more!
We've fooled around for forty days,
And yet, so help me heaven,
We haven't done a bit more good
Than if we were not seven!”
One says, “It is,” another, “'Taint,”
While I claim it's pyaemia,
And as we dose and fool around,
The outlook's growing dreamier;
And as the nation's pray'rs go up
With one accord, to heaven,
Each doctor has a different scheme,
For we, good sir, are seven.
While I claim it's pyaemia,
And as we dose and fool around,
The outlook's growing dreamier;
And as the nation's pray'rs go up
With one accord, to heaven,
Each doctor has a different scheme,
For we, good sir, are seven.
August 19th, 1881.
225
IN RE SPRING.
Whereas, on sundry boughs and sprays,
Now divers birds are heard to sing,
And sundry flowers their heads upraise,
Hail to the coming on of Spring!
Now divers birds are heard to sing,
And sundry flowers their heads upraise,
Hail to the coming on of Spring!
The songs of the said birds arouse
The memory of our youthful hours,
As young and green as those said boughs,
As fresh and fair as those said flowers.
The memory of our youthful hours,
As young and green as those said boughs,
As fresh and fair as those said flowers.
The birds aforesaid, happy pairs,
Love 'midst the aforesaid boughs enshrine,
In household nests, themselves, their heirs,
Administrators and assigns.
Love 'midst the aforesaid boughs enshrine,
In household nests, themselves, their heirs,
Administrators and assigns.
O, busiest term of Cupid's Court!
When tender plaintiffs actions bring;
Season of frolic and of sport,
Hail! as aforesaid, coming spring.
When tender plaintiffs actions bring;
Season of frolic and of sport,
Hail! as aforesaid, coming spring.
(Attributed to) Judge G. G. Symes.
April 27th, 1882.
226
I CANNOT SING THE OLD SONGS.
I cannot sing the old songsI sang long years ago,
And yet I cannot say I'm sad
That time hath changed us so,
For when I used to sing those songs,
My Papa blankety blanked,
And Mama took me on her knee
And I, alas! was spanked.
November 29th, 1882.
227
THE SAME DEAR HAND.
The bells ring out a happy sound,
The earth is mantled o'er with white,
It is the merry Christmas night,
And love, and mirth, and joy abound,
And here sit you and here sit I—
I should be happiest in the land,
For oh! I hold the same dear hand
I've held for many a year gone by.
The earth is mantled o'er with white,
It is the merry Christmas night,
And love, and mirth, and joy abound,
And here sit you and here sit I—
I should be happiest in the land,
For oh! I hold the same dear hand
I've held for many a year gone by.
It is not withered up with care—
It is as fresh and fair to see—
As sweet to hold and dear to me
As when with chimes upon the air,
On Christmas nights of years ago
I held the same dear little thing,
And felt its soft caresses bring
The flushes to my throbbing brow.
It is as fresh and fair to see—
As sweet to hold and dear to me
As when with chimes upon the air,
On Christmas nights of years ago
I held the same dear little thing,
And felt its soft caresses bring
The flushes to my throbbing brow.
Ah, we were born to never part—
This little hand I hold to-night,
And I—so with strong delight
I press it to my beating heart.
And in the midnight solemn hush,
I bless the little hand I hold—
In broken whispers be it told—
It is the old time bob tail flush.
This little hand I hold to-night,
And I—so with strong delight
I press it to my beating heart.
And in the midnight solemn hush,
I bless the little hand I hold—
In broken whispers be it told—
It is the old time bob tail flush.
December 25th, 1881.
228
WINTER JOYS.
A man stood on the bathroom floor,
While raged the storm without,
One hand was on the water valve,
The other on the spout.
While raged the storm without,
One hand was on the water valve,
The other on the spout.
He fiercely tried to turn the plug,
But all in vain he tried,
“I see it all, I am betrayed,
The water's froze,” he cried.
But all in vain he tried,
“I see it all, I am betrayed,
The water's froze,” he cried.
Down to the kitchen then he rushed,
And in the basement dove,
Long strived he for to turn the plugs,
But all in vain he strove.
And in the basement dove,
Long strived he for to turn the plugs,
But all in vain he strove.
“The hydrant may be running yet,”
He cried in hopeful tone,
Alas, the hydrant too, was froze,
As stiff as any stone.
He cried in hopeful tone,
Alas, the hydrant too, was froze,
As stiff as any stone.
There came a burst, the water pipes
And plugs, oh, where were they?
Ask of the soulless plumber man
Who called around next day.
And plugs, oh, where were they?
Ask of the soulless plumber man
Who called around next day.
November 1st, 1882.
229
LOST CHORDS.
One autumn eve, when soft the breeze
Came sweeping through the lattice wide,
I sat me down at organ side
And poured my soul upon the keys.
Came sweeping through the lattice wide,
I sat me down at organ side
And poured my soul upon the keys.
It was, perhaps by heaven's design,
That from my half unconscious touch,
There swept a passing chord of such
Sweet harmony, it seemed divine.
That from my half unconscious touch,
There swept a passing chord of such
Sweet harmony, it seemed divine.
In one soft tone it seemed to say
The sweetest words I ever heard,
Then like a truant forest bird,
It soared from me to heaven away.
The sweetest words I ever heard,
Then like a truant forest bird,
It soared from me to heaven away.
Last eve, I sat at window whence
I sought the spot where erst had stood
A cord—a cord of hick'ry wood,
Piled up against the back yard fence.
I sought the spot where erst had stood
A cord—a cord of hick'ry wood,
Piled up against the back yard fence.
Four dollars cost me it that day,
Four dollars earned by sweat of brow,
Where was the cord of hick'ry now?
The thieves had gobbled it away!
Four dollars earned by sweat of brow,
Where was the cord of hick'ry now?
The thieves had gobbled it away!
230
Ah! who can ever count the cost,
Of treasures which were once our own,
Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown,
Those cords that are forever lost.
Of treasures which were once our own,
Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown,
Those cords that are forever lost.
June 8th, 1882.
231
ARABI BEY.
I am flying, Egypt, flying,
And it's likely I shall fly
Till I can't fly any farther,
For I do not care to die.
I'm so stifled by the desert
Sand my lungs can hardly wheeze,
And I'm feeling mighty shaky
In my stomach and my knees;
Not a bite of camel's sirloin,
Nor a drop of camel's whey,
Not an orange or banana
Has passed my lips to-day,
For I'm flying, Egypt, flying,
And my present purpose is
To keep on flying till I know
I am safely out of this.
And it's likely I shall fly
Till I can't fly any farther,
For I do not care to die.
I'm so stifled by the desert
Sand my lungs can hardly wheeze,
And I'm feeling mighty shaky
In my stomach and my knees;
Not a bite of camel's sirloin,
Nor a drop of camel's whey,
Not an orange or banana
Has passed my lips to-day,
For I'm flying, Egypt, flying,
And my present purpose is
To keep on flying till I know
I am safely out of this.
From Alexandria's marble halls
To Bing Whang's cots of clay
From Snicker Eli's sandy plains
To Cairo's tufted walls,
From Thump-el-Hittem's lordly site
To Sneeza's royal halls
And still the bloody Britisher
Comes prancing up behind,
With a threat to tear my inwards out
And strew them to the wind!
Do you wonder, Egypt, wonder,
With my army round me dying,
That I'm flying, Egypt, flying
And propose to keep on flying?
To Bing Whang's cots of clay
From Snicker Eli's sandy plains
To Cairo's tufted walls,
From Thump-el-Hittem's lordly site
To Sneeza's royal halls
232
Comes prancing up behind,
With a threat to tear my inwards out
And strew them to the wind!
Do you wonder, Egypt, wonder,
With my army round me dying,
That I'm flying, Egypt, flying
And propose to keep on flying?
September 13th, 1882.
233
ODE TO THE PASSIONS.
When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
Before the gods, 'tis said she sung,
And instruments of every kind
She brought to please the godlike mind.
Before the gods, 'tis said she sung,
And instruments of every kind
She brought to please the godlike mind.
And first the Fiddles, great and small,
With tightened strings and resined bows,
Surprised and charmed the Olympians all,
With solemn, sad adagios.
With tightened strings and resined bows,
Surprised and charmed the Olympians all,
With solemn, sad adagios.
Then rushed anon with throbbing tones
The train of tremulous Trombones,
Now swelling like a tropic gale,
Now lulled into a whiffling wail,
The gods all wept, the gods all smiled,
By starts were soft, by fits were wild.
The train of tremulous Trombones,
Now swelling like a tropic gale,
Now lulled into a whiffling wail,
The gods all wept, the gods all smiled,
By starts were soft, by fits were wild.
With quiet mien and modest grace,
The Hurdygurdy came apace,
And groaned a grind,
So sweet and tremulous of kind,
Fair Cytheraea hid her face,
And as the echoes filled her ears,
She smiled serenely through her tears,
And went it blind.
The Hurdygurdy came apace,
And groaned a grind,
So sweet and tremulous of kind,
Fair Cytheraea hid her face,
And as the echoes filled her ears,
She smiled serenely through her tears,
And went it blind.
234
Next came the Cymbals, full of fire,
And, with a fierce and brazen ire,
They smote a smast!
The frightened gods surged to and fro,
Dumbfounded by the blaring blow,
And all aghast,
Back they recoiled—the demons passed.
And, with a fierce and brazen ire,
They smote a smast!
The frightened gods surged to and fro,
Dumbfounded by the blaring blow,
And all aghast,
Back they recoiled—the demons passed.
But thou, O Flute, with murmurings low,
Call'st back the tears into their eyes,
And Juno, mute with glad surprise,
Binds fragrant fillets round her brow,
While Father Jove—no critic he—
Exclaims, in honest, burly, glee,
“Waal, waal, I swow!”
Thy tones are like the waterfall,
Or nightingales' seductive call,
Thou art a warbler fair!
And Bacchus waves his golden hair
With pleasure when thy strain begins,
And, rising on the ravished air,
He shakes
Ten thousand odors from his whisky skins.
Call'st back the tears into their eyes,
And Juno, mute with glad surprise,
Binds fragrant fillets round her brow,
While Father Jove—no critic he—
Exclaims, in honest, burly, glee,
“Waal, waal, I swow!”
Thy tones are like the waterfall,
Or nightingales' seductive call,
Thou art a warbler fair!
And Bacchus waves his golden hair
With pleasure when thy strain begins,
And, rising on the ravished air,
He shakes
Ten thousand odors from his whisky skins.
November 6th, 1882.
237
THE FATE OF TOMATO KAHN.
Old Ragbag Bey, a venerable man,
Arose one morning and to his servant said,
“Send hither, slave, my son, Tomato Khan,
If, by the Prophet's beard, he's out of bed.”
Tomato Khan responded in all haste,
And, kneeling on the earth before his sire,
Kissed thrice his feet, and clinging to his waist,
“Why hast thou called?” respectful did inquire.
Arose one morning and to his servant said,
“Send hither, slave, my son, Tomato Khan,
If, by the Prophet's beard, he's out of bed.”
Tomato Khan responded in all haste,
And, kneeling on the earth before his sire,
Kissed thrice his feet, and clinging to his waist,
“Why hast thou called?” respectful did inquire.
“Mush Allah!” cried the old man in a breath,
Our country is in dire complaint, I see,
On every hand is desolation, death,
And she demands a sacrifice of me
From Am el Telba unto Goghar's wall,
From Batra's palms to Ondig's sandy plain,
I hear the roll of drum, the trumpet's call,
The clash of arms and war's intense refrain.
Our country is in dire complaint, I see,
On every hand is desolation, death,
And she demands a sacrifice of me
From Am el Telba unto Goghar's wall,
From Batra's palms to Ondig's sandy plain,
I hear the roll of drum, the trumpet's call,
The clash of arms and war's intense refrain.
Bind on this scimeter, my son, and go
This day to Goghar on thy fiery, dauntless steed,
Join thou the army of the Faithful, show
Thy zest for Allah in thy country's hour of need!
Tomato Khan bound on old Ragbag's sword,
His love, the fair Amirie, begged him stay,
In vain the maiden wept, in vain implored,
Tomato Khan strode on his vengeful way.
This day to Goghar on thy fiery, dauntless steed,
Join thou the army of the Faithful, show
Thy zest for Allah in thy country's hour of need!
Tomato Khan bound on old Ragbag's sword,
His love, the fair Amirie, begged him stay,
In vain the maiden wept, in vain implored,
Tomato Khan strode on his vengeful way.
238
He did not die, as Ragbag hoped he might,
Nor as Amirie thought a warrior should,
He did not perish on the field of fight,
No Christian hands are reeking with his blood.
Kicked by a mule, he fell at Sneez-el-Snuff,
A cheap, Arabian mule, a vulgar beast,
He faintly murmured, “Allah! this is rough!”
And then the throbbings of his sick heart ceased.
Nor as Amirie thought a warrior should,
He did not perish on the field of fight,
No Christian hands are reeking with his blood.
Kicked by a mule, he fell at Sneez-el-Snuff,
A cheap, Arabian mule, a vulgar beast,
He faintly murmured, “Allah! this is rough!”
And then the throbbings of his sick heart ceased.
So, for his country died Tomato Khan,
A youth equipped for great, chivalric scenes,
Dead by a mule, a martyred, glorious man,
A patriot, since the end doth glorify the means.
A mausoleum hath old Ragbag built,
As tribute to Tomato Khan's brave deeds,
At morn, at night his bitter tears are spilt,
The fair Amirie wears a widow's weeds.
A youth equipped for great, chivalric scenes,
Dead by a mule, a martyred, glorious man,
A patriot, since the end doth glorify the means.
A mausoleum hath old Ragbag built,
As tribute to Tomato Khan's brave deeds,
At morn, at night his bitter tears are spilt,
The fair Amirie wears a widow's weeds.
June 30th, 1882.
241
JAFFA AND JERUSALEM R. R. TROUBLES.
Ben-Ali-Sneezer, late one afternoon,
Met Sheik Back-Gammon on old Horeb's mount,
And thus he in the language of the East,
His multifarious hardships did recount:
“O Sheik, I bow me in the dust and mourn,
For lo! whilst browsing on the fertile plain,
Two of my choicest heifers—fair and fat—
Were caught in limbo and were duly slain
By that infernal pest of recent birth,
The half-past eight accommodation train.”
Met Sheik Back-Gammon on old Horeb's mount,
And thus he in the language of the East,
His multifarious hardships did recount:
“O Sheik, I bow me in the dust and mourn,
For lo! whilst browsing on the fertile plain,
Two of my choicest heifers—fair and fat—
Were caught in limbo and were duly slain
By that infernal pest of recent birth,
The half-past eight accommodation train.”
Then quoth the Sheik: “One of my white lambs,
Which I did purpose soon to drive to town,
While frisking o'er the distant flowery lea,
Was by that selfsame fatal train run down.
Now, O Ben Ali! by the prophet's beard,
What are we ruined shepherd folk to do?
Suppose we take our troubles into court,
You swear for me and I will swear for you;
And so, by mutual oaths, it's possible
We may most hap'ly pull each other through.”
Which I did purpose soon to drive to town,
While frisking o'er the distant flowery lea,
Was by that selfsame fatal train run down.
Now, O Ben Ali! by the prophet's beard,
What are we ruined shepherd folk to do?
Suppose we take our troubles into court,
You swear for me and I will swear for you;
And so, by mutual oaths, it's possible
We may most hap'ly pull each other through.”
242
Ben-Ali-Sneezer some months after met
The Sheik Back-Gammon, and inclined to sport,
The two sat down upon a cedar stump
To talk of their experience in court.
Ben-Ali quoth, “Them cows was thin as rails,
Now that they're gone, it's mighty glad I am!”
Back-Gammon said, “Now that the judgment's paid,
I don't mind telling you the slaughtered lamb,
So far from being what you swore in court,
Was, by the great horned spoon, not worth a ---.”
The Sheik Back-Gammon, and inclined to sport,
The two sat down upon a cedar stump
To talk of their experience in court.
Ben-Ali quoth, “Them cows was thin as rails,
Now that they're gone, it's mighty glad I am!”
Back-Gammon said, “Now that the judgment's paid,
I don't mind telling you the slaughtered lamb,
So far from being what you swore in court,
Was, by the great horned spoon, not worth a ---.”
243
A PASTORAL.
Virgil.How sweet to sit at noontide's hour,
Beneath the lilac tree,
And watch the slowly budding flower
And sing, O Spring, of thee.
Trot out, O Tityrus, my flute,
Hand o'er my tuneful lyre,
Unhand the throttle of my flute,
Lead out the shepherd choir.
And let the ewes and lambkins stand
In dumb surprise on every hand,
While all the hills and valleys ring,
With our apostrophe to Spring.
Tityrus.
Wilt thou, O Virgil, tip us a stave
In the plaintive Ionic, or in the lively
Manner of the swift-footed iambic?
Virgil.
On a barren rock with thee, O Tityrus,
Born into the world, else wouldst thou know
That neither does it please me to sing praises
Nor invoke in the gentle Alcaic for the
Choriambic heptameter catalectic.
244
Sing then, I pray, in the dialectic trimeter,
Or the joyous iambic dimeter, the staid
Pherecractic or the suicidal Sapphic.
Virgil.
Youth be shut as to your prattling mouth,
My lyric is not attuned to such as
Dactylic, tetrameter a posteriore,
Adonic, iambic, dimeter hypermeter,
Acephalous Choriambic tetrameter,
Glyconic, Ionic a minore minor,
Alcaic, Dactylico iambic or
Archilochian heptameter.
Tityrus.
In what manner of flowing verslets
Will thou, the poet, breathe the song?
Virgil.
In the sardonic, sulphuric gasmeter,
In the smooth carbolic celtic diameter,
The chronic, laconic cataleptic,
The muriatic acidic or the mellifluous
Diabolic paregoric—but look!
The shadows on the hills grow larger and
The sun fades in the horizon, O Pueri
Sat prata rivos biberunt, vale.
March 27th, 1882.
245
A PASTORAL.
O, Tityrus, as you sit beneath
The shade of yonder budding bay,
And on the wierd, profound trombone,
Pip'st thou thy sweet bucolic lay,
Behold the Berkshire lambs at play;
The shade of yonder budding bay,
And on the wierd, profound trombone,
Pip'st thou thy sweet bucolic lay,
Behold the Berkshire lambs at play;
Behold the Southdown cattle feed,
And gaze upon the browsing swine,
And calmly view the Durham steed
Cavorting 'mongst the maiden kine,
Ah, would that such a lot were mine!
And gaze upon the browsing swine,
And calmly view the Durham steed
Cavorting 'mongst the maiden kine,
Ah, would that such a lot were mine!
No cares, no sorrows, ills nor woes
Consume thy soul as through the day
Thou pip'st upon thy mild trombone
The shepherd's sweet ecstatic lay,
And watch the grazing herds at play.
Consume thy soul as through the day
Thou pip'st upon thy mild trombone
The shepherd's sweet ecstatic lay,
And watch the grazing herds at play.
Ah, would, dear Tityrus, that I,
A poet, not a shepherd born,
Could rest supine beneath the shade
And pipe upon the shepherd's horn,
And keep the cattle from the corn.
A poet, not a shepherd born,
Could rest supine beneath the shade
And pipe upon the shepherd's horn,
And keep the cattle from the corn.
February 13th, 1882.
246
POLITICAL RHYMES.
Some Bosses were playing with a mule,
One cold November day,
The mule's still there, with upraised leg,
The Bosses, where are they?
One cold November day,
The mule's still there, with upraised leg,
The Bosses, where are they?
Smash up and Clatter!
Great guns how they scatter!
The tail wags the dog no more!
The people have reason to like the sport
Though many a Boss' heart's sore.
Great guns how they scatter!
The tail wags the dog no more!
The people have reason to like the sport
Though many a Boss' heart's sore.
November 15th, 1882.
The statesman introducing bills
Is not the creature to adore,
For they are dreary, senseless ills,
And he a very stupid bore;
But he is sensible and wise,
(As all the poor reporters learn)
Who rises in his place and cries,
“'Ster Speaker, move you we adjourn!”
Is not the creature to adore,
For they are dreary, senseless ills,
And he a very stupid bore;
But he is sensible and wise,
(As all the poor reporters learn)
Who rises in his place and cries,
“'Ster Speaker, move you we adjourn!”
January 18th, 1883.
247
Sing a song of sick men
And bosoms full of pain,
But it is a nasty thing
To be caught in the rain.
If one can't swim and it's a Flood
Every state a loss!
Isn't this a pretty dish
To set before a Boss!
And bosoms full of pain,
But it is a nasty thing
To be caught in the rain.
If one can't swim and it's a Flood
Every state a loss!
Isn't this a pretty dish
To set before a Boss!
Sing a song of caucus,
Senatorial pie;
Six or seven candidates
And none of them are high;
While the caucus wrangles
O'er the precious prize,
Along comes a dark horse
And nips it 'fore their eyes!
Senatorial pie;
Six or seven candidates
And none of them are high;
While the caucus wrangles
O'er the precious prize,
Along comes a dark horse
And nips it 'fore their eyes!
January 4th, 1883.
248
RANDOM VERSE.
Now what in the world shall we dioux
With the bloody and murderous Sioux
Who sometime ago
Took his arrow and bow
And raised such a hellabelioux?
With the bloody and murderous Sioux
Who sometime ago
Took his arrow and bow
And raised such a hellabelioux?
A maiden once ate a cucumber
And then she lay down for to slumber;
The next thing she knew
Up to heaven she flew,
Her casket was made of new lumber.
And then she lay down for to slumber;
The next thing she knew
Up to heaven she flew,
Her casket was made of new lumber.
A darling young fellow named Day
Prints the Solid Muldoon, at Ouray;
When folks pay their back dues,
He's as mild as you choose,
When they don't, there's the devil to pay.
Prints the Solid Muldoon, at Ouray;
When folks pay their back dues,
He's as mild as you choose,
When they don't, there's the devil to pay.
August 16th, 1881.
249
A certain young lady at Golden,
Once sought her best beau to embolden,
By observing, “Don't you
Think one chair's 'nuff f'r two?”
And now when he calls, she is holden.
Once sought her best beau to embolden,
By observing, “Don't you
Think one chair's 'nuff f'r two?”
And now when he calls, she is holden.
'Tis strange how new newspapers honor
The creature that's called prima donna;
They say not a thing
Of how she can sing,
But talk of the clothes she has on her.
The creature that's called prima donna;
They say not a thing
Of how she can sing,
But talk of the clothes she has on her.
The beautiful belle of Del Norte,
Is reckoned disdainful and horty,
Because during the day
She says, “Boys keep away,”
But she yums in the gloaming like forty!
Is reckoned disdainful and horty,
Because during the day
She says, “Boys keep away,”
But she yums in the gloaming like forty!
August 24th, 1881.
250
A beautiful young man at Saguache,
Once courted the charming Miss Sauche,
But when she was wed
To another, he said,
“My life is a horrible bauche.”
Once courted the charming Miss Sauche,
But when she was wed
To another, he said,
“My life is a horrible bauche.”
August 24th, 1881.
In Leadville a certain girl's bonnet
Has four yards of ostrich plumes on it,
While her sister, poor thing,
Wears a red rooster wing,
And that is the cause of this sonnet.
Has four yards of ostrich plumes on it,
While her sister, poor thing,
Wears a red rooster wing,
And that is the cause of this sonnet.
August 25th, 1881.
A dashing young cowboy named Gus
Got involved in a serious muss,
With a party named Berringer,
And drawing his derringer
He tapped him for laudable pus.
Got involved in a serious muss,
With a party named Berringer,
And drawing his derringer
He tapped him for laudable pus.
November 13th, 1883.
251
THE PUNSTER GOES BUGGY RIDING.
“Suppose,” he said, in accent soft,
“A fellow just like me
Should axle little girl to wed,
What would the answer be?”
“A fellow just like me
Should axle little girl to wed,
What would the answer be?”
The maiden drops her liquid eyes,
Her smiles with blushes mingle,
“Why seek the bridle halter when
You may love on, sur, cingle?”
Her smiles with blushes mingle,
“Why seek the bridle halter when
You may love on, sur, cingle?”
And then he spoke, “Oh, be my bride,
I ask you once again;
You are the empress of my heart,
And there shall ever rein!
I ask you once again;
You are the empress of my heart,
And there shall ever rein!
“I'll never tire of kindly deeds
To win your gentle heart,
And saddle be the shaft that rends
Our happy lives apart.”
To win your gentle heart,
And saddle be the shaft that rends
Our happy lives apart.”
Upon her cheeks the maiden felt
The mantling blushes glow,
She took him for her faithful hub,
To share his wheel or whoa!
The mantling blushes glow,
She took him for her faithful hub,
To share his wheel or whoa!
January 15th, 1882.
252
AN ORTHOGRAPHICAL FANCY.
With tragic air, the love lorn heir
Once chased the chaste Louise;
She quickly guessed her guest was there
To please her with his pleas.
Once chased the chaste Louise;
She quickly guessed her guest was there
To please her with his pleas.
Now at her side he kneeling sighed,
His sighs of woeful size,
“Oh hear me here, for lo! most low
I rise before your eyes.
His sighs of woeful size,
“Oh hear me here, for lo! most low
I rise before your eyes.
“This soul is sole thine own, Louise,
'Twill never wean, I ween,
The love that I, aye e'er shall feel,
Though mean may be its mein.”
'Twill never wean, I ween,
The love that I, aye e'er shall feel,
Though mean may be its mein.”
“You know I cannot tell you no,”
The maid made answer true,
“I love you aught, as sure I ought,
To you 'tis due I do!”
The maid made answer true,
“I love you aught, as sure I ought,
To you 'tis due I do!”
“Since you are won, O fairest one!
The marriage rite is right,
The chapel aisle I'll lead you up
This night!” exclaimed the knight.
The marriage rite is right,
The chapel aisle I'll lead you up
This night!” exclaimed the knight.
January 20th, 1882.
253
A NAUTICAL LOVER.
A boy named Mann once fell in love
With pretty Bella Taylor,
And having found his stern to speak
He boldly did a sailor.
With pretty Bella Taylor,
And having found his stern to speak
He boldly did a sailor.
“Oh let me honey-bee your bow
I anchor for your favor,
Nay, 'twould be barber-ous to spurn
So fond a little shaver.”
I anchor for your favor,
Nay, 'twould be barber-ous to spurn
So fond a little shaver.”
Bell gave a little aft to hear
The ringing words he tolled,
And then she gave a little keel
And he was forced to hold.
The ringing words he tolled,
And then she gave a little keel
And he was forced to hold.
“Your words are sound I plainly sea,
And I'd shoal little sense,
If I did not in kindly mood
Return your love in tense.”
And I'd shoal little sense,
If I did not in kindly mood
Return your love in tense.”
November 4th, 1882.
254
VA. AND GEO.
Young Miss Va. Smith recd.
Attention to a marked deg.
From a young gent, named Geo.
As by these vs. you shall see.
Attention to a marked deg.
From a young gent, named Geo.
As by these vs. you shall see.
He sought her Co. one kt.,
Determined to no longer wt.,
“Behold I wp., at yr. feet,
This inst., let me know my fate.”
Determined to no longer wt.,
“Behold I wp., at yr. feet,
This inst., let me know my fate.”
Va. hung her pretty head,
“If Hon. yr. purpose be,
And if you'll be obdt.,
There's no obj. I can see.
“If Hon. yr. purpose be,
And if you'll be obdt.,
There's no obj. I can see.
“But 1st you must consult with pa,”
She softly lisped, her blushes through,
“I've Sr. Gov.,” he cried,
“& i. e. why I came to you.”
She softly lisped, her blushes through,
“I've Sr. Gov.,” he cried,
“& i. e. why I came to you.”
He took that gal. to his lap,
A M. times or more he kiss'd her,
The brave deserve the fair; if he
Had feared to woo, he'd sure have Mr.
A M. times or more he kiss'd her,
The brave deserve the fair; if he
Had feared to woo, he'd sure have Mr.
October 31st, 1882.
255
THE POET LOVERS.
(Strophe.)
The flame of love Burns in his heart,
O maiden Young and Gay;
And now that he is Scott at last,
Should you keep Pope away?
O maiden Young and Gay;
And now that he is Scott at last,
Should you keep Pope away?
If there Cling any Prior claim,
Hume may most freely speak,
Aha, the rosy blushes fly
Swift to your dimpled Cheke.
Hume may most freely speak,
Aha, the rosy blushes fly
Swift to your dimpled Cheke.
Say, Shelley go away from here
Without a word from thee?
Speak not at Talbot give some sign,
However Smollett be.
Without a word from thee?
Speak not at Talbot give some sign,
However Smollett be.
(Ante Strophe.)
My spirit, erst so Sterne, will yield,
Thou seest it in mine eye,
Steele up your nerves and you shall be,
Most happy Byron by.
Thou seest it in mine eye,
Steele up your nerves and you shall be,
Most happy Byron by.
256
“No Moore, my heart would fain relent!”
The blushing maiden cried;
He Locke-d her in his arms and pressed
Her to his Akenside.
The blushing maiden cried;
He Locke-d her in his arms and pressed
Her to his Akenside.
(Apostrophe.)
All Hale, we cry, unto the bride,
The bridegroom, brave and Bright;
And may their lives be Fuller joy
For they will wed this Knight.
The bridegroom, brave and Bright;
And may their lives be Fuller joy
For they will wed this Knight.
November 3d, 1882.
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