Partingtonian patchwork Blifkins the martyr : the domestic trials of a model husband. The modern syntax : Dr. Spooner's experiences in search of the delectable. Partington papers : strippings of the warm milk of human kindness. New and old dips from an unambitious inkstand. Humorous, eccentric, rhythmical |
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SIDEWALK OPERA. |
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293
SIDEWALK OPERA.
It is wonderful how infectious opera is. Whole neighborhoods will be bewitched by it; and men and women, in pursuing the quiet avocations of life, will become operatic in spite of themselves. Men ask the price of a beefsteak with a bravura, which is replied to by a cavatina; the morning salutation becomes a duet, and arias and romanzas are common things. Thus an opera of householders, compelled to shovel off in front after a snow-storm, was quite amusing.
Scene, Sidewalk. Snow mountains high.Smith, Brown, Jones, and Robinson
(queerly costumed, armed with shovels, prepared to level the drift). Quartette.
Here we are to stand the brunt:
We must shovel off in front.
Now with blades to cleave the snow,
In we go, and in we go,
Throwing the invading drift
Far as human nerve can lift.
In, boys, in, and do not stay;
It will be as good as play.
[They pitch in.
Smith
(resting on his shovel).
Whew! 'tis rough and tough enough:
I'm not made of seasoned stuff.
I can't stand this fierce employ:
I'll knock off, and find a boy.
294
(resting on their shovels). Trio.
Ah! peccavi do you cry?
So soon from the toil to fly?
Can you thus the joy forego
Of this fresh and healthy glow?
Stay: think better of it, Smith,
Be a man of nerve and pith.
Smith
(shouldering his shovel, and beckoning to a boy about forty years old). Bass.
My hope to feel the glow is dim;
Therefore I resign to him.
[Exit.
[Brown, Jones, and Robinson resume shovelling.]
Brown
(resting on his shovel, and wiping his face).
By George! this'll try the back:
I thought I felt a muscle crack;
And, though I feel all right and brisk,
I don't dare too much to risk.
Therefore I conceive it best
To call a boy to do the rest.
Jones and Robinson
(resting on their shovels). Duet.
Ha, ha! thus the toil you shirk,
While we stick and do the work.
Men of pluck, we'll trophies show
Of our struggle with the snow.
Brown
(shouldering his shovel, and calling another boy of some fifty summers and forty-nine winters). 2d Bass.
I will leave you all the fun
Of hope achieved and victory won.
[Exit.
295
Jones
(resting on his shovel, and putting his hand wildly to his head).
Ah! that horrid vertigo!
I was fearful 'twould be so.
Round and round things seem to spin:
I declare I must cave in.
Robinson
(resting on his shovel). Solo.
Thus they drop from out the ring,
Tender as the buds of spring;
Leaving me here all alone
To shovel on, while they have flown.
Jones
(shouldering his shovel, and calling a boy of about thirty-five years). Tenor.
'Tis rather “going back,” I know;
But vertigo now makes me go.
[Exit.
[Robinson resumes shovelling.]
Robinson
(resting on his shovel, and looking at about twenty feet of drift he has got to work through).
Faith, I think I'd best give o'er:
My dexter hand is very sore,
My hair and eyes are full of snow,—
I guess I'll have the verti-go.
Robinson
(shouldering his shovel, and calling a boy about twenty-five). 2d Tenor.
Here, my lad: just put this through;
I'll leave the glory all to you.
[Exit.
296
Ah, begorra! but this is a good job for us, onnyhow:
Blessings on the shnow-storrum that kicked up sich a lovely row!
With the worruk half done by the gintlefolk, who broke down 'fore they did it,
Laving us to charge what we're a mind to, by the same token; and we'll do that, you'd better belave, before we've done wid it.
[They shovel.
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