 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
[There was once a man in Ispahan]
There was once a man in Ispahan
Ever and ever so long ago,
And he had a head, the phrenologists said,
That fitted him for a show.
Ever and ever so long ago,
And he had a head, the phrenologists said,
That fitted him for a show.
For his modesty's bump was so large a lump
(Nature, they said, had taken a freak)
That its summit stood far above the wood
Of his hair, like a mountain peak.
(Nature, they said, had taken a freak)
That its summit stood far above the wood
Of his hair, like a mountain peak.
So modest a man in all Ispahan,
Over and over again they swore—
So humble and meek, you would vainly seek;
None ever was found before.
Over and over again they swore—
So humble and meek, you would vainly seek;
None ever was found before.
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Meantime the hump of that awful bump
Into the heavens contrived to get
To so great a height that they called the wight
The man with a minaret.
Into the heavens contrived to get
To so great a height that they called the wight
The man with a minaret.
There wasn't a man in all Ispahan
Prouder, or louder in praise of his chump:
With a tireless tongue and a brazen lung
He bragged of that beautiful bump
Prouder, or louder in praise of his chump:
With a tireless tongue and a brazen lung
He bragged of that beautiful bump
Till the Shah in a rage sent a trusty page
Bearing a sack and a bow-string too,
And that gentle child explained as he smiled:
“A little present for you.”
Bearing a sack and a bow-string too,
And that gentle child explained as he smiled:
“A little present for you.”
The saddest man in all Ispahan,
Sniffed at the gift, yet accepted the same.
“If I'd lived,” said he, “my humility
Had given me deathless fame!”
Sniffed at the gift, yet accepted the same.
“If I'd lived,” said he, “my humility
Had given me deathless fame!”
Sukker Uffro.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |