XXXVIII.THAT OF JEREMIAH SCOLES, MISER.
I sing of joys, and junketings,Of holly, and of such-like things;I sing of merry mistletoe,And,—pardon me,—I sing alsoOf Jeremiah Scoles.I sing of Mister Scoles becauseSo singular a man he was,And had so very strange a wayOf celebrating Christmas Day—Unlike all other souls.Myself, I am a cheerful man,Enjoying life as best I can.At Christmas-time I love to seeThe flow of mirth and jollityAbout the festive board;I love to dance, Itryto sing;On enemies, like anything,At Christmas-time I heap hot coals,But not so Jeremiah Scoles—Heloves a miser's hoard.I chanced one year, on Christmas Day,To call upon him, just to sayThat we'd be very pleased to seeHim, if he'd care to come to tea.I found him quite alone.He sat before a fireless grate;The room looked bare and desolate,And he, unkempt, in dressing-gown,Received me with an angry frown,And spoke in surly tone.
I sing of joys, and junketings,Of holly, and of such-like things;I sing of merry mistletoe,And,—pardon me,—I sing alsoOf Jeremiah Scoles.I sing of Mister Scoles becauseSo singular a man he was,And had so very strange a wayOf celebrating Christmas Day—Unlike all other souls.Myself, I am a cheerful man,Enjoying life as best I can.At Christmas-time I love to seeThe flow of mirth and jollityAbout the festive board;I love to dance, Itryto sing;On enemies, like anything,At Christmas-time I heap hot coals,But not so Jeremiah Scoles—Heloves a miser's hoard.I chanced one year, on Christmas Day,To call upon him, just to sayThat we'd be very pleased to seeHim, if he'd care to come to tea.I found him quite alone.He sat before a fireless grate;The room looked bare and desolate,And he, unkempt, in dressing-gown,Received me with an angry frown,And spoke in surly tone.
I sing of joys, and junketings,Of holly, and of such-like things;I sing of merry mistletoe,And,—pardon me,—I sing alsoOf Jeremiah Scoles.I sing of Mister Scoles becauseSo singular a man he was,And had so very strange a wayOf celebrating Christmas Day—Unlike all other souls.
I sing of joys, and junketings,
Of holly, and of such-like things;
I sing of merry mistletoe,
And,—pardon me,—I sing also
Of Jeremiah Scoles.
I sing of Mister Scoles because
So singular a man he was,
And had so very strange a way
Of celebrating Christmas Day—
Unlike all other souls.
Myself, I am a cheerful man,Enjoying life as best I can.At Christmas-time I love to seeThe flow of mirth and jollityAbout the festive board;I love to dance, Itryto sing;On enemies, like anything,At Christmas-time I heap hot coals,But not so Jeremiah Scoles—Heloves a miser's hoard.
Myself, I am a cheerful man,
Enjoying life as best I can.
At Christmas-time I love to see
The flow of mirth and jollity
About the festive board;
I love to dance, Itryto sing;
On enemies, like anything,
At Christmas-time I heap hot coals,
But not so Jeremiah Scoles—
Heloves a miser's hoard.
I chanced one year, on Christmas Day,To call upon him, just to sayThat we'd be very pleased to seeHim, if he'd care to come to tea.I found him quite alone.He sat before a fireless grate;The room looked bare and desolate,And he, unkempt, in dressing-gown,Received me with an angry frown,And spoke in surly tone.
I chanced one year, on Christmas Day,
To call upon him, just to say
That we'd be very pleased to see
Him, if he'd care to come to tea.
I found him quite alone.
He sat before a fireless grate;
The room looked bare and desolate,
And he, unkempt, in dressing-gown,
Received me with an angry frown,
And spoke in surly tone.
"Ha! what d'yewant?" said he to meAnd eyed me most suspiciously.I laughed and gave a hearty smackUpon the grumpy fellow's back,And cried: "Come home with me.We'll treat you well. There's lots of fun—"But ere I scarcely had begunHe cut me short. "Pooh! folly! stuff!Seehere; I've fun—quite fun enough!"He laughed, but mirthlessly.Before him on the table layGold, silver, coppers, in array;Some empty bottles; stacks of bills;Some boxes for containing pills—And that was all. Said he:"This gold is what Ihaven'tspentIn presents; and the silver's meantTo show whatcouldbe wasted in—Pah!—Christmas boxes. 'Tis a sinI don't encourage—no, not me?"The coppers—little boys, no doubt,Would like 'em—they may go without;While these long bills Ishouldhave hadFrom tradesmen, had I been so madAs to have bought the thingsThey represent for Christmas cheer;These bottles and pill-boxes hereShow what I willnothave to take,Because I'll havenostomach-acheThat over-eating brings.
"Ha! what d'yewant?" said he to meAnd eyed me most suspiciously.I laughed and gave a hearty smackUpon the grumpy fellow's back,And cried: "Come home with me.We'll treat you well. There's lots of fun—"But ere I scarcely had begunHe cut me short. "Pooh! folly! stuff!Seehere; I've fun—quite fun enough!"He laughed, but mirthlessly.Before him on the table layGold, silver, coppers, in array;Some empty bottles; stacks of bills;Some boxes for containing pills—And that was all. Said he:"This gold is what Ihaven'tspentIn presents; and the silver's meantTo show whatcouldbe wasted in—Pah!—Christmas boxes. 'Tis a sinI don't encourage—no, not me?"The coppers—little boys, no doubt,Would like 'em—they may go without;While these long bills Ishouldhave hadFrom tradesmen, had I been so madAs to have bought the thingsThey represent for Christmas cheer;These bottles and pill-boxes hereShow what I willnothave to take,Because I'll havenostomach-acheThat over-eating brings.
"Ha! what d'yewant?" said he to meAnd eyed me most suspiciously.I laughed and gave a hearty smackUpon the grumpy fellow's back,And cried: "Come home with me.We'll treat you well. There's lots of fun—"But ere I scarcely had begunHe cut me short. "Pooh! folly! stuff!Seehere; I've fun—quite fun enough!"He laughed, but mirthlessly.
"Ha! what d'yewant?" said he to me
And eyed me most suspiciously.
I laughed and gave a hearty smack
Upon the grumpy fellow's back,
And cried: "Come home with me.
We'll treat you well. There's lots of fun—"
But ere I scarcely had begun
He cut me short. "Pooh! folly! stuff!
Seehere; I've fun—quite fun enough!"
He laughed, but mirthlessly.
Before him on the table layGold, silver, coppers, in array;Some empty bottles; stacks of bills;Some boxes for containing pills—And that was all. Said he:"This gold is what Ihaven'tspentIn presents; and the silver's meantTo show whatcouldbe wasted in—Pah!—Christmas boxes. 'Tis a sinI don't encourage—no, not me?
Before him on the table lay
Gold, silver, coppers, in array;
Some empty bottles; stacks of bills;
Some boxes for containing pills—
And that was all. Said he:
"This gold is what Ihaven'tspent
In presents; and the silver's meant
To show whatcouldbe wasted in—
Pah!—Christmas boxes. 'Tis a sin
I don't encourage—no, not me?
"The coppers—little boys, no doubt,Would like 'em—they may go without;While these long bills Ishouldhave hadFrom tradesmen, had I been so madAs to have bought the thingsThey represent for Christmas cheer;These bottles and pill-boxes hereShow what I willnothave to take,Because I'll havenostomach-acheThat over-eating brings.
"The coppers—little boys, no doubt,
Would like 'em—they may go without;
While these long bills Ishouldhave had
From tradesmen, had I been so mad
As to have bought the things
They represent for Christmas cheer;
These bottles and pill-boxes here
Show what I willnothave to take,
Because I'll havenostomach-ache
That over-eating brings.
"And thus I spend my Christmas Day,Thinking what silly fools are theyWho spend so much in solid cashOn so much sentimental trash.And now, good-day to you!"He showed me out, he banged the door,And I was—where I was before.* * *I really think, upon my word,His line of reasoning's most absurd.No doubt you think so, too?
"And thus I spend my Christmas Day,Thinking what silly fools are theyWho spend so much in solid cashOn so much sentimental trash.And now, good-day to you!"He showed me out, he banged the door,And I was—where I was before.* * *I really think, upon my word,His line of reasoning's most absurd.No doubt you think so, too?
"And thus I spend my Christmas Day,Thinking what silly fools are theyWho spend so much in solid cashOn so much sentimental trash.And now, good-day to you!"He showed me out, he banged the door,And I was—where I was before.
"And thus I spend my Christmas Day,
Thinking what silly fools are they
Who spend so much in solid cash
On so much sentimental trash.
And now, good-day to you!"
He showed me out, he banged the door,
And I was—where I was before.
* * *
* * *
I really think, upon my word,His line of reasoning's most absurd.No doubt you think so, too?
I really think, upon my word,
His line of reasoning's most absurd.
No doubt you think so, too?