Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton :: :: University of Virginia Library

A man or a woman,
A Ghoul or a human,—
Pray tell me the good such a knowledge can do man,
Or whatever can make it a circumstance weighty,
To know where I stand between eighteen and eighty;
Or whether I chance to be single or double;
But, nevertheless, as you've taken the trouble,
And as I don't wish to be wrapped up in mystery,
I think I will give you a leaf of my history.

I'm a college student of seventeen,
With a scarcely perceptible shade of green;
Three terrible pairs of rickety stairs,
I tumble down daily to morning prayers;
I twirl my cane with a matchless grace,
And if you should happen to look in my face,
When the morning light
Falls on it aright,
You will catch, I am certain, a very fair sight
Of what I should call, and I hope I'm not rash,
The first faint dawn of a young moustache;
I would also say
In a modest way,
I've a generous share
Enough and to spare,
Of that indescribable gift so rare,
And when I hold forth in my musical tones
Before the redoubtable “Skull and Bones,”

150

You would never know
But 'twas Cicero,
Unless somebody happened to tell you so.
With the girls of the land
I'm in great demand,
And a sudden meeting,
Some crowded street in,
Gives rise to a very affectionate greeting.
I moreover can show,
Let me whisper it low,
Five pictures of five graceful nymphs in a row.
The first has bushels of raven curls,
The next is the very queen of girls,
The third is fair
With auburn hair,
The fourth has a very distingué air,
The fifth has—something, precisely what
I cannot say, for I've quite forgot,
Though many days with my watch for a locket,
I tenderly bore in the depths of my pocket
A bit of the ribbon that bound her locks,
Now lying, alas! in my relic box.
I hope the young lady won't go break her heart,
Because I was so ready from her memento to part.
But to sum up the whole,
I have thought on my soul
Since thus I began
My features to scan,
I'm a very uncommonly nice young man.

151

Pray what say you—this description you see—
My investigator “X. Y. Z.”

Peccavi, peccavi; to soften my pillow
I humbly confess to a peccadillo—
Very different proves the real denouement,
For I'm not in the least a college student,
No enamored swain nor ranting debater,
But a docile and dutiful Alma Mater.
Rugged and thorny the path I have trod,
A married lady of thirty odd;
Every evening I see in their beds
A baker's dozen of curly heads;
Every morning my slumbers greet
The patter, patter, patter of twenty-six feet.
Thirteen little hearts are always in a flutter,
Till thirteen little mouths are filled with bread and butter;
Thirteen little tongues are busy all day long,
And thirteen little hands with doing something wrong,
Till I fain am to do
With an energy too,
As did the old woman who lived in a shoe;
And when my poor husband comes home from his work,
Tired and hungry and fierce as a Turk,
What do you think is the picture he sees?
A legion of babies all in a breeze.

152

Johnny a-crying
And Mary a-sighing,
And dignified me with my hair all a-flying;
William strong and angry beating little Nelly,
Charley in the pantry eating currant jelly;
Richard strutting round in papa's Sunday coat,
Bobby at the glass with a razor at his throat,
Harry gets his fingers crushed when Susie shuts the door,
Mitigates their aching with a forty-pounder roar;
Baby at the coal-hod hurries to begin
Throwing in his mite to the universal din.
Alas! my lord and master being rather weak of nerve, he
Begins to lose his patience in this stunning topsy turvy,
And then the frightened little ones all fly to me for shelter,
And so the drama closes 'mid a general helter-skelter.
I'll give you my name lest you think me a myth,
Yours very respectably, Mrs. John Smith!