ONE OF THE SAINTSBig Smith is an Oakland School Board man,And he looks as good as ever he can;And he's such a cold and a chaste Big SmithThat snowflakes all are his kin and kith.Wherever his eye he chances to throwThe crystals of ice begin to grow;And the fruits and flowers he sees are lostBy the singeing touch of a sudden frost.The women all shiver whenever he's near,And look uponuswith a look austere—Effect of the Smithian atmosphere.Such, in a word, is the moral planOf the Big, Big Smith, the School Board man.When told that Madame Ferrier had taughtHernaniin school, his fist he broughtLike a trip-hammer down on his bulbous knee,And he roared: "Her Nanny? By gum, we'll seeIf the public's time she dares devoteTo the educatin' of any dam goat!""You do not entirely comprehend—Hernani'sa play," said his learned friend,"By Victor Hugo—immoral and bad.What's worse, it's French!" "Well, well, my lad,"Said Smith, "if he cuts a swath so wideI'll have him took re'glar up and tried!"And he smiled so sweetly the other chapThought that himself was a Finn or LappCaught in a storm of his native snows,With a purple ear and an azure nose.The Smith continued: "I never pursueImmoral readin'." And that is true:He's a saint of remarkably high degree,With a mind as chaste as a mind can be;But read!—the devil a word can he!
Big Smith is an Oakland School Board man,And he looks as good as ever he can;And he's such a cold and a chaste Big SmithThat snowflakes all are his kin and kith.Wherever his eye he chances to throwThe crystals of ice begin to grow;And the fruits and flowers he sees are lostBy the singeing touch of a sudden frost.The women all shiver whenever he's near,And look uponuswith a look austere—Effect of the Smithian atmosphere.Such, in a word, is the moral planOf the Big, Big Smith, the School Board man.When told that Madame Ferrier had taughtHernaniin school, his fist he broughtLike a trip-hammer down on his bulbous knee,And he roared: "Her Nanny? By gum, we'll seeIf the public's time she dares devoteTo the educatin' of any dam goat!""You do not entirely comprehend—Hernani'sa play," said his learned friend,"By Victor Hugo—immoral and bad.What's worse, it's French!" "Well, well, my lad,"Said Smith, "if he cuts a swath so wideI'll have him took re'glar up and tried!"And he smiled so sweetly the other chapThought that himself was a Finn or LappCaught in a storm of his native snows,With a purple ear and an azure nose.The Smith continued: "I never pursueImmoral readin'." And that is true:He's a saint of remarkably high degree,With a mind as chaste as a mind can be;But read!—the devil a word can he!