A little book of tribune verse A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay |
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GEMS FOR THE PRINTER. |
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 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
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GEMS FOR THE PRINTER.
Slug 5 was portly and round and fair,
And he threw in type with a lordly air
Under the coal-oil's lurid glare.
And he threw in type with a lordly air
Under the coal-oil's lurid glare.
One of Slug 5's most innocent joys
Was, when surcease from work and noise,
He jeffed with the other printer boys.
Was, when surcease from work and noise,
He jeffed with the other printer boys.
It made the printer men howl and moan
When on the fatal imposing stone
They saw his handful of em quads thrown.
When on the fatal imposing stone
They saw his handful of em quads thrown.
One night, unknowing of Slug 5's fame
At playing this most unfortunate game,
A slim young man to the news room came,
At playing this most unfortunate game,
A slim young man to the news room came,
And, seeing the slender creature near,
Slug 5 remarked with a bitter leer
“I'll jeff you, sir, for cigars or beer.”
Slug 5 remarked with a bitter leer
“I'll jeff you, sir, for cigars or beer.”
And the slim man started and tossed his head,
The shaft struck home and his heartstrings bled,
“Pray, what is jeffing?” the victim said.
The shaft struck home and his heartstrings bled,
“Pray, what is jeffing?” the victim said.
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And Slug 5, thinking his ruin planned,
Explained the process in detail, and
The young man yearned for to take a hand.
Explained the process in detail, and
The young man yearned for to take a hand.
Then three times threw Slug 5 the tricks,
And he made a total of just eight nicks,
And he quoth, “He never can beat that fix.”
And he made a total of just eight nicks,
And he quoth, “He never can beat that fix.”
The young man gathered the em quads too,
A Molly, a cock and two he threw,
“Now, one more throw and that will do!”
A Molly, a cock and two he threw,
“Now, one more throw and that will do!”
The young man threw, and there supine
On the cold, cold stone, in a ghastly line,
Loomed seven nicks, or a total nine!
On the cold, cold stone, in a ghastly line,
Loomed seven nicks, or a total nine!
March 29th, 1882.
| A little book of tribune verse | |