THE MILKY WAY

My heart is aflame with a love that enslavesMy passion for thee is afire;My soul is athirst for the love that it craves,And you are the one I admire.Pray speak, Dear! and say your affections are mine,And all the sweet charms you possess;Then I will surrender my wishes to thineAnd be but thy slave, I confess.When she answered, at length, I felt very sureI'd pleaded my cause quite enough;"You're the one man on earth Icouldn't endure,So cut out that comedy stuff!"

My heart is aflame with a love that enslavesMy passion for thee is afire;My soul is athirst for the love that it craves,And you are the one I admire.

My heart is aflame with a love that enslaves

My passion for thee is afire;

My soul is athirst for the love that it craves,

And you are the one I admire.

Pray speak, Dear! and say your affections are mine,And all the sweet charms you possess;Then I will surrender my wishes to thineAnd be but thy slave, I confess.

Pray speak, Dear! and say your affections are mine,

And all the sweet charms you possess;

Then I will surrender my wishes to thine

And be but thy slave, I confess.

When she answered, at length, I felt very sureI'd pleaded my cause quite enough;"You're the one man on earth Icouldn't endure,So cut out that comedy stuff!"

When she answered, at length, I felt very sure

I'd pleaded my cause quite enough;

"You're the one man on earth Icouldn't endure,

So cut out that comedy stuff!"

I went to school, like any lad,And learned to read and write:With pencil, books and writing-padI grew quite erudite.Promoted soon, my Teacher thoughtI would some day, be great;And so painstakingly he taughtMe how to conjugate.And talked to me about the Moon,Of Venus, Saturn, Mars,Till I was rated, very soon,Authority on Stars.A graduate, I searched the skiesFor orbs unknown before,Determined that I'd specializeIn Astronomic lore:But how to buy a telescopeAnd all the charts required?Anattickwas my only hopeOf all the things desired:And so I compromised and boughtBinoculars and case,And ev'ry night the Stars I soughtAt Daly's Burlesque Place.The one, bright, meteoric FlameIn all that stellar group,Soonfell for me; then took my nameAnd quit the Burlesque Troupe.But I'm eclipsed! the SatelliteThat twinkles in the crib,Keeps Motherpinning, day and night,A didy or a bib.

I went to school, like any lad,And learned to read and write:With pencil, books and writing-padI grew quite erudite.

I went to school, like any lad,

And learned to read and write:

With pencil, books and writing-pad

I grew quite erudite.

Promoted soon, my Teacher thoughtI would some day, be great;And so painstakingly he taughtMe how to conjugate.

Promoted soon, my Teacher thought

I would some day, be great;

And so painstakingly he taught

Me how to conjugate.

And talked to me about the Moon,Of Venus, Saturn, Mars,Till I was rated, very soon,Authority on Stars.

And talked to me about the Moon,

Of Venus, Saturn, Mars,

Till I was rated, very soon,

Authority on Stars.

A graduate, I searched the skiesFor orbs unknown before,Determined that I'd specializeIn Astronomic lore:

A graduate, I searched the skies

For orbs unknown before,

Determined that I'd specialize

In Astronomic lore:

But how to buy a telescopeAnd all the charts required?Anattickwas my only hopeOf all the things desired:

But how to buy a telescope

And all the charts required?

Anattickwas my only hope

Of all the things desired:

And so I compromised and boughtBinoculars and case,And ev'ry night the Stars I soughtAt Daly's Burlesque Place.

And so I compromised and bought

Binoculars and case,

And ev'ry night the Stars I sought

At Daly's Burlesque Place.

The one, bright, meteoric FlameIn all that stellar group,Soonfell for me; then took my nameAnd quit the Burlesque Troupe.

The one, bright, meteoric Flame

In all that stellar group,

Soonfell for me; then took my name

And quit the Burlesque Troupe.

But I'm eclipsed! the SatelliteThat twinkles in the crib,Keeps Motherpinning, day and night,A didy or a bib.

But I'm eclipsed! the Satellite

That twinkles in the crib,

Keeps Motherpinning, day and night,

A didy or a bib.

"Beware the dog!" Beware the Logothete!The Octoped with elephantine feet:(I mean by this—with thebig understanding;The Byzantine Pup of Theodore's branding.)A thousand years chained to Hellespont's brink,He never once whimpered or lapped up a drink.Hydrophobia? No! just aphasia,'Cause he couldn't cross over to Asia.The old Logothete is the Watch Dog of State:He feeds upon figures (he'll cipher an eight!)And starts ev'ry meal with a twelve or sixteen,Then multiplies units to munch on between.Voracity thus as an integer standsFor his diurnal gorge on multiplicands.Numerical strength makes the Logothete thrive,And fractions he dotes on—just eats 'em alive!He lashes his tail by Marmora's flood,But eats from the hand of Sultan Ahmud;A collar of gold, set with aquamarines,Makes him the envy of Justin's near-queens;His Kennel-Kiosque (the hyphen's germane!)Rivals the harems of Constantine's reign.Innocuous? No! nor yet desuetude,For he daily absorbs whole columns of food.His teeth are as sharp as the Damaskeene bladeThat severed the chains on the Macedon maid;And as keen as the knife avenging the dameWho was sold to the Sheik in Mesopotame.But the point that I make—no whimper or yelpHad ever been voiced by this Logothete whelpUntil Archæologists, searching the grounds,Unearthed dogmatisms and bitumen soundsOf the highest known pitch, resembling a whineOr unrav'ling snarls of the Octopedine.And thus they've exploded the silence completeTradition ascribes to the old Logothete[1]—And so, in unleashing this Byzantine Pup,They merit grave censure fordigging things up.

"Beware the dog!" Beware the Logothete!

The Octoped with elephantine feet:

(I mean by this—with thebig understanding;

The Byzantine Pup of Theodore's branding.)

A thousand years chained to Hellespont's brink,

He never once whimpered or lapped up a drink.

Hydrophobia? No! just aphasia,

'Cause he couldn't cross over to Asia.

The old Logothete is the Watch Dog of State:He feeds upon figures (he'll cipher an eight!)And starts ev'ry meal with a twelve or sixteen,Then multiplies units to munch on between.Voracity thus as an integer standsFor his diurnal gorge on multiplicands.Numerical strength makes the Logothete thrive,And fractions he dotes on—just eats 'em alive!

The old Logothete is the Watch Dog of State:

He feeds upon figures (he'll cipher an eight!)

And starts ev'ry meal with a twelve or sixteen,

Then multiplies units to munch on between.

Voracity thus as an integer stands

For his diurnal gorge on multiplicands.

Numerical strength makes the Logothete thrive,

And fractions he dotes on—just eats 'em alive!

He lashes his tail by Marmora's flood,But eats from the hand of Sultan Ahmud;A collar of gold, set with aquamarines,Makes him the envy of Justin's near-queens;His Kennel-Kiosque (the hyphen's germane!)Rivals the harems of Constantine's reign.Innocuous? No! nor yet desuetude,For he daily absorbs whole columns of food.

He lashes his tail by Marmora's flood,

But eats from the hand of Sultan Ahmud;

A collar of gold, set with aquamarines,

Makes him the envy of Justin's near-queens;

His Kennel-Kiosque (the hyphen's germane!)

Rivals the harems of Constantine's reign.

Innocuous? No! nor yet desuetude,

For he daily absorbs whole columns of food.

His teeth are as sharp as the Damaskeene bladeThat severed the chains on the Macedon maid;And as keen as the knife avenging the dameWho was sold to the Sheik in Mesopotame.But the point that I make—no whimper or yelpHad ever been voiced by this Logothete whelpUntil Archæologists, searching the grounds,Unearthed dogmatisms and bitumen soundsOf the highest known pitch, resembling a whineOr unrav'ling snarls of the Octopedine.And thus they've exploded the silence completeTradition ascribes to the old Logothete[1]—And so, in unleashing this Byzantine Pup,They merit grave censure fordigging things up.

His teeth are as sharp as the Damaskeene blade

That severed the chains on the Macedon maid;

And as keen as the knife avenging the dame

Who was sold to the Sheik in Mesopotame.

But the point that I make—no whimper or yelp

Had ever been voiced by this Logothete whelp

Until Archæologists, searching the grounds,

Unearthed dogmatisms and bitumen sounds

Of the highest known pitch, resembling a whine

Or unrav'ling snarls of the Octopedine.

And thus they've exploded the silence complete

Tradition ascribes to the old Logothete[1]—

And so, in unleashing this Byzantine Pup,

They merit grave censure fordigging things up.

[1]FromLogos(word) andThete(Theodore)—The word of Theodore.

There's music in the Eagle's shriek;There's ditto in the Lion's roar,But discord marks the BolshevikBecause the Bear doth growl no more.The Dogs of War are out of tune,—No harmony doth move the critters:Unless they cease their fighting soonThe wounded whelps will have no litters.Jerusalem! the Turk is spent!The bagpipes took his breath, I think.The Crescent now is badly bent,And Allah's cause is on the blink.The Bulgar too has shot his bolt,And soon will quit—the poor pariah!For now there's rumor of revoltIn Ananias and Sofia.The Hun is playing with the Slav—The Kremlin Mouse and Potsdam Cat;But Cossack, too, can smear the salve,And 'twixt them twain doth Peace fall flat.Some day the Dove of Peace will swoopWith long, befiguredbill, and put itAgainst the Vulture-Kultur coopAnd make the Prussian Junkersfoot it.

There's music in the Eagle's shriek;There's ditto in the Lion's roar,But discord marks the BolshevikBecause the Bear doth growl no more.

There's music in the Eagle's shriek;

There's ditto in the Lion's roar,

But discord marks the Bolshevik

Because the Bear doth growl no more.

The Dogs of War are out of tune,—No harmony doth move the critters:Unless they cease their fighting soonThe wounded whelps will have no litters.

The Dogs of War are out of tune,—

No harmony doth move the critters:

Unless they cease their fighting soon

The wounded whelps will have no litters.

Jerusalem! the Turk is spent!The bagpipes took his breath, I think.The Crescent now is badly bent,And Allah's cause is on the blink.

Jerusalem! the Turk is spent!

The bagpipes took his breath, I think.

The Crescent now is badly bent,

And Allah's cause is on the blink.

The Bulgar too has shot his bolt,And soon will quit—the poor pariah!For now there's rumor of revoltIn Ananias and Sofia.

The Bulgar too has shot his bolt,

And soon will quit—the poor pariah!

For now there's rumor of revolt

In Ananias and Sofia.

The Hun is playing with the Slav—The Kremlin Mouse and Potsdam Cat;But Cossack, too, can smear the salve,And 'twixt them twain doth Peace fall flat.

The Hun is playing with the Slav—

The Kremlin Mouse and Potsdam Cat;

But Cossack, too, can smear the salve,

And 'twixt them twain doth Peace fall flat.

Some day the Dove of Peace will swoopWith long, befiguredbill, and put itAgainst the Vulture-Kultur coopAnd make the Prussian Junkersfoot it.

Some day the Dove of Peace will swoop

With long, befiguredbill, and put it

Against the Vulture-Kultur coop

And make the Prussian Junkersfoot it.

Newspaper Item, Athens, Pa., July 29: The archaeologists who are traversing the Susquehanna River Valley, visiting sites of Indian villages and digging up aborigines and other relics, are said to have made a most astounding discovery on the Murray farm, near here, in finding the bones of sixty-eight pre-historic men. The average height of these men when their skeletons were assembled was seven feet, while many were much taller. Additional evidence of their gigantic size is found in the massive stone battle axes in their graves. The average age of these men is said to have been from thirty to forty. Another amazing point of this discovery is the allegation that "perfectly formed skulls were found from which horns grew straight out from the head."

The Homestead of Satan, they say, has been foundNear Athens, P. A., in a hole in the ground;And people are flocking from Athens and SayreTo view the remains of their ancestors there.When Satan established himself in this zoneHe found it distasteful to live all alone;So he went to Towanda in quest of a bride,And then tilled the soil till his seed multiplied.So scores of young Devils at Murray's were bornThat measured five cubits between hoof and horn.Each one was equipped with a tail and two wings,Andasbestos garmentsat Nick's Sulphur Springs.And that's why you find all their skeletons hereIn good preservation: but isn't it queerThat Devils at Athens, the place of their birth,Were the sole legatees of Hell upon Earth?But Devils, like men, reach the ends of their ropes,And have disappointments and unfulfilled hopes,—So Satan discovered, too late we are told,The climate at Murray's was too beastly cold.His imps all contracted pneumonia and died;So he buried them here in the Pit, side by side,Near Athens, P. A., by the River Chemung,Where they've been unmolested till now, and unsung.And there their bones bleached, in the Sulphuric Pits,Until Archæologists came with their kitsAnd made excavations, not thinking of harm,But raising the devil at Rube Murray's Farm.Now Satan'sexposedand his ossified get,(A few yet remain in the flesh, I regret!)And Murray of Athens is living, I wotOn skeletons dug from this Hell-enic spot.

The Homestead of Satan, they say, has been foundNear Athens, P. A., in a hole in the ground;And people are flocking from Athens and SayreTo view the remains of their ancestors there.

The Homestead of Satan, they say, has been found

Near Athens, P. A., in a hole in the ground;

And people are flocking from Athens and Sayre

To view the remains of their ancestors there.

When Satan established himself in this zoneHe found it distasteful to live all alone;So he went to Towanda in quest of a bride,And then tilled the soil till his seed multiplied.

When Satan established himself in this zone

He found it distasteful to live all alone;

So he went to Towanda in quest of a bride,

And then tilled the soil till his seed multiplied.

So scores of young Devils at Murray's were bornThat measured five cubits between hoof and horn.Each one was equipped with a tail and two wings,Andasbestos garmentsat Nick's Sulphur Springs.

So scores of young Devils at Murray's were born

That measured five cubits between hoof and horn.

Each one was equipped with a tail and two wings,

Andasbestos garmentsat Nick's Sulphur Springs.

And that's why you find all their skeletons hereIn good preservation: but isn't it queerThat Devils at Athens, the place of their birth,Were the sole legatees of Hell upon Earth?

And that's why you find all their skeletons here

In good preservation: but isn't it queer

That Devils at Athens, the place of their birth,

Were the sole legatees of Hell upon Earth?

But Devils, like men, reach the ends of their ropes,And have disappointments and unfulfilled hopes,—So Satan discovered, too late we are told,The climate at Murray's was too beastly cold.

But Devils, like men, reach the ends of their ropes,

And have disappointments and unfulfilled hopes,—

So Satan discovered, too late we are told,

The climate at Murray's was too beastly cold.

His imps all contracted pneumonia and died;So he buried them here in the Pit, side by side,Near Athens, P. A., by the River Chemung,Where they've been unmolested till now, and unsung.

His imps all contracted pneumonia and died;

So he buried them here in the Pit, side by side,

Near Athens, P. A., by the River Chemung,

Where they've been unmolested till now, and unsung.

And there their bones bleached, in the Sulphuric Pits,Until Archæologists came with their kitsAnd made excavations, not thinking of harm,But raising the devil at Rube Murray's Farm.

And there their bones bleached, in the Sulphuric Pits,

Until Archæologists came with their kits

And made excavations, not thinking of harm,

But raising the devil at Rube Murray's Farm.

Now Satan'sexposedand his ossified get,(A few yet remain in the flesh, I regret!)And Murray of Athens is living, I wotOn skeletons dug from this Hell-enic spot.

Now Satan'sexposedand his ossified get,

(A few yet remain in the flesh, I regret!)

And Murray of Athens is living, I wot

On skeletons dug from this Hell-enic spot.

The Busy Bee, to gather honey, goesTouching the clover bloom and then the rose;An easy prey, the clover blossom yieldsIts treasures garnered from the fragrant fields;But all the sweetness that the rose adorns,Protected is from theft by jealous thorns.The Bee, ergo, in quest the flowers among,Gets sometimes honey and gets sometimesstung.

The Busy Bee, to gather honey, goes

Touching the clover bloom and then the rose;

An easy prey, the clover blossom yields

Its treasures garnered from the fragrant fields;

But all the sweetness that the rose adorns,

Protected is from theft by jealous thorns.

The Bee, ergo, in quest the flowers among,

Gets sometimes honey and gets sometimesstung.

The snow is falling on the hemlock boughs:Courage, Comrade, Spring will come again!The birds are leaving the evergreen trees,And that's why they are not deciduous.O, Winter! I shake thy icy hand,And, shaking, shovel the beautiful snow:But what shall I do with such an abundance?It is already piled high in my neighbor's yard,And he is watching me from his attic window.And yet more snow! How pure you seem tho' falling!

The snow is falling on the hemlock boughs:

Courage, Comrade, Spring will come again!

The birds are leaving the evergreen trees,

And that's why they are not deciduous.

O, Winter! I shake thy icy hand,

And, shaking, shovel the beautiful snow:

But what shall I do with such an abundance?

It is already piled high in my neighbor's yard,

And he is watching me from his attic window.

And yet more snow! How pure you seem tho' falling!

This is the Ape, made famous, you'll agree,By Darwin's Evolution Theory.His destiny fulfilled, he rests at easeWith tribal Apes, Baboons and Chimpanzees;Preferring, so, to recreation find,Than with his tailless counterpart, Mankind,A doubtful branch of his posterity:And makes amonkey, thus, of you and me.

This is the Ape, made famous, you'll agree,

By Darwin's Evolution Theory.

His destiny fulfilled, he rests at ease

With tribal Apes, Baboons and Chimpanzees;

Preferring, so, to recreation find,

Than with his tailless counterpart, Mankind,

A doubtful branch of his posterity:

And makes amonkey, thus, of you and me.

This is the Bug, unable to resistThe blandishments of Entomologist.He soon succumbs to net or trap or pinAnd fills his place thecabinetwithin.A volume then explains his habits, source,And all his secrets and his aims of course;Which leads me to conclude, when facts are dug,The Man of Science is the biggest "Bug."

This is the Bug, unable to resist

The blandishments of Entomologist.

He soon succumbs to net or trap or pin

And fills his place thecabinetwithin.

A volume then explains his habits, source,

And all his secrets and his aims of course;

Which leads me to conclude, when facts are dug,

The Man of Science is the biggest "Bug."

Darling, I my vigil keepClose beside you, while you sleep.Let the Dream of Love abide!Cupid will not be denied;For he whispers to you now,And prints kisses on your brow;While his velvet finger tipsHush the protest on your lips.Wake, My Love! And do not chideCupid pleading by your side!Darkness lingers in the skiesTill the light of your bright eyesAdds new brilliance to the sun:Not till then is Day begun!Ope your lips and speak one word—Sweetest cadence ever heard!Loose your tresses! Let them restOn your snowy, virgin breast,And entwine these roses rareIn the ringlets nestling there.Wake, My Love! The sunbeams shedGolden treasures on your head;While Æolus woos your cheeks,And exacts the kiss he seeks.Love, aquiver, draws his bowAnd demands that sleep must go;For a jealous elf is heWho will brook no rivalry.So let Love a Kingdom makeIn his Heart for Thee: Awake!

Darling, I my vigil keep

Close beside you, while you sleep.

Let the Dream of Love abide!

Cupid will not be denied;

For he whispers to you now,

And prints kisses on your brow;

While his velvet finger tips

Hush the protest on your lips.

Wake, My Love! And do not chide

Cupid pleading by your side!

Darkness lingers in the skiesTill the light of your bright eyesAdds new brilliance to the sun:Not till then is Day begun!Ope your lips and speak one word—Sweetest cadence ever heard!Loose your tresses! Let them restOn your snowy, virgin breast,And entwine these roses rareIn the ringlets nestling there.

Darkness lingers in the skies

Till the light of your bright eyes

Adds new brilliance to the sun:

Not till then is Day begun!

Ope your lips and speak one word—

Sweetest cadence ever heard!

Loose your tresses! Let them rest

On your snowy, virgin breast,

And entwine these roses rare

In the ringlets nestling there.

Wake, My Love! The sunbeams shedGolden treasures on your head;While Æolus woos your cheeks,And exacts the kiss he seeks.Love, aquiver, draws his bow

Wake, My Love! The sunbeams shed

Golden treasures on your head;

While Æolus woos your cheeks,

And exacts the kiss he seeks.

Love, aquiver, draws his bow

And demands that sleep must go;For a jealous elf is heWho will brook no rivalry.So let Love a Kingdom makeIn his Heart for Thee: Awake!

And demands that sleep must go;

For a jealous elf is he

Who will brook no rivalry.

So let Love a Kingdom make

In his Heart for Thee: Awake!

Happy indeed is he who goesThe Straight and Narrow Way,And heedeth not the lure of thoseWho from His precepts stray.With joy observeth he the actsThe Master doth proclaim,And, day or night, no fervor lacksTo bless His holy name.And he shall be a fruitful treeDeep-rooted in the Truth;And not a leaf shall withered beNor fruitage cease, forsooth.But those who follow not the CourseThe Master hath decreed,Shall shrivel and decay, perforce,And barren be their seed.It follows then, that those who sinMust turn again to clay,While righteous men are gathered inOn Resurrection Day.For God rewards the Pure in HeartAnd knoweth all their needs;While those who from his ways departShall be like broken reeds.

Happy indeed is he who goesThe Straight and Narrow Way,And heedeth not the lure of thoseWho from His precepts stray.

Happy indeed is he who goes

The Straight and Narrow Way,

And heedeth not the lure of those

Who from His precepts stray.

With joy observeth he the actsThe Master doth proclaim,And, day or night, no fervor lacksTo bless His holy name.

With joy observeth he the acts

The Master doth proclaim,

And, day or night, no fervor lacks

To bless His holy name.

And he shall be a fruitful treeDeep-rooted in the Truth;And not a leaf shall withered beNor fruitage cease, forsooth.

And he shall be a fruitful tree

Deep-rooted in the Truth;

And not a leaf shall withered be

Nor fruitage cease, forsooth.

But those who follow not the CourseThe Master hath decreed,Shall shrivel and decay, perforce,And barren be their seed.

But those who follow not the Course

The Master hath decreed,

Shall shrivel and decay, perforce,

And barren be their seed.

It follows then, that those who sinMust turn again to clay,While righteous men are gathered inOn Resurrection Day.

It follows then, that those who sin

Must turn again to clay,

While righteous men are gathered in

On Resurrection Day.

For God rewards the Pure in HeartAnd knoweth all their needs;While those who from his ways departShall be like broken reeds.

For God rewards the Pure in Heart

And knoweth all their needs;

While those who from his ways depart

Shall be like broken reeds.

Peace? do you say? When my homestead is razed,And Death stalks the fields where my cattle once grazed;And the Dear One is deadWhom I courted and wed,The Joy of my Life when the hearthstone fires blazed.Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wifeAnd the brave little son, who gave up his lifeThat she might escapeFrom the murder or rapeOf helmeted hordes in the unequal strife!Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your shoes!Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse.He was true to his Land,So you cut off his handAnd left him but slav'ry or famine to choose.Peace? My wounds cry aloud: Never! I sayTill your legions are killed or driven awayAnd my country is free:But, stay! What's that to me,Since all my own Loved Ones lie murdered to-day?No!!NotPeace, butRevenge! Here is my gun—Surrendered? O, No! for its work is not done:When my bayonet's stingSmites the heart of your King,And your hell-hounds are flayed,—thenPeace will bewon!

Peace? do you say? When my homestead is razed,

And Death stalks the fields where my cattle once grazed;

And the Dear One is dead

Whom I courted and wed,

The Joy of my Life when the hearthstone fires blazed.

Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wifeAnd the brave little son, who gave up his lifeThat she might escapeFrom the murder or rapeOf helmeted hordes in the unequal strife!

Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wife

And the brave little son, who gave up his life

That she might escape

From the murder or rape

Of helmeted hordes in the unequal strife!

Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your shoes!Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse.He was true to his Land,So you cut off his handAnd left him but slav'ry or famine to choose.

Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your shoes!

Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse.

He was true to his Land,

So you cut off his hand

And left him but slav'ry or famine to choose.

Peace? My wounds cry aloud: Never! I sayTill your legions are killed or driven awayAnd my country is free:But, stay! What's that to me,Since all my own Loved Ones lie murdered to-day?

Peace? My wounds cry aloud: Never! I say

Till your legions are killed or driven away

And my country is free:

But, stay! What's that to me,

Since all my own Loved Ones lie murdered to-day?

No!!NotPeace, butRevenge! Here is my gun—Surrendered? O, No! for its work is not done:When my bayonet's stingSmites the heart of your King,And your hell-hounds are flayed,—thenPeace will bewon!

No!!NotPeace, butRevenge! Here is my gun—

Surrendered? O, No! for its work is not done:

When my bayonet's sting

Smites the heart of your King,

And your hell-hounds are flayed,—thenPeace will bewon!

I see her creeping 'long the nursery floor,—A dainty, blue-eyed Babe, scarce old enoughTo realize 'tisshewhom I adore,—She is a priceless diamond in the rough.Again I see her playing with a hostOf noisy, kindergarten girls and boys;She seems to me the fairest and the mostRefined: apure goldgirl without alloys.And thus from stage to stage I watch the maidAs she develops like the budding rose,And then, Ah me! I'm jealously afraidThat she admires me less than other beaux.And then, anon, I see her on the kneeOf Willie Jones: I think she shouldn't oughter!But then my Courtship Days come back to me—Just like her Ma!She is my only Daughter!

I see her creeping 'long the nursery floor,—A dainty, blue-eyed Babe, scarce old enoughTo realize 'tisshewhom I adore,—She is a priceless diamond in the rough.

I see her creeping 'long the nursery floor,—

A dainty, blue-eyed Babe, scarce old enough

To realize 'tisshewhom I adore,—

She is a priceless diamond in the rough.

Again I see her playing with a hostOf noisy, kindergarten girls and boys;She seems to me the fairest and the mostRefined: apure goldgirl without alloys.

Again I see her playing with a host

Of noisy, kindergarten girls and boys;

She seems to me the fairest and the most

Refined: apure goldgirl without alloys.

And thus from stage to stage I watch the maidAs she develops like the budding rose,And then, Ah me! I'm jealously afraidThat she admires me less than other beaux.

And thus from stage to stage I watch the maid

As she develops like the budding rose,

And then, Ah me! I'm jealously afraid

That she admires me less than other beaux.

And then, anon, I see her on the kneeOf Willie Jones: I think she shouldn't oughter!But then my Courtship Days come back to me—Just like her Ma!She is my only Daughter!

And then, anon, I see her on the knee

Of Willie Jones: I think she shouldn't oughter!

But then my Courtship Days come back to me—

Just like her Ma!She is my only Daughter!

There's a dear, little spot, near my Hoosier hometown,Where the mortgage runs up as the buildings run down,That I love to return to, a restful retreat,Just to slush around there with the mud on my feet.There's the forked, wormy apple-tree, dead to the bark,And the sickle and grindstone, brought out of the Ark;And the Shed, where I fled, with my illicit pipe,To assuage stomach-aches when green apples were "ripe."There's the collar and churn,wornby Dash day by day,And the chain that prevented his running away;And the yoke for the oxen—Haw, Buck! and Gee, Bride!And the Troth for the Squealers the hen-house beside.There's the Dovecote, unroofed, and the sweep by the well,And the ooze in the barnyard and natural-gas smell:There's the hayrake and silo; the tin weathervane,And the two, moss-grown graves where the Old Folks were lain.And the milk-stools are there, and the cowpath and stile;And a few hardy scarecrows remain yet awhile;And the taxes, unpaid, still appear on the bookOf the County Collector, Nathaniel U. Crook.So I keep coming back, to my old Hoosier shack,To inhale the sweet mildew of hay in the stack,And to drink from the spring where the bull-frogs aboundThat protect the young cowslips that grow all around.Now the mortgage is due and the int'rest unpaid,And I can't get a cent for the place, I'm afraid;But I love to return here, at vacation time,Just to revel again in the mud and the slime.

There's a dear, little spot, near my Hoosier hometown,

Where the mortgage runs up as the buildings run down,

That I love to return to, a restful retreat,

Just to slush around there with the mud on my feet.

There's the forked, wormy apple-tree, dead to the bark,And the sickle and grindstone, brought out of the Ark;And the Shed, where I fled, with my illicit pipe,To assuage stomach-aches when green apples were "ripe."

There's the forked, wormy apple-tree, dead to the bark,

And the sickle and grindstone, brought out of the Ark;

And the Shed, where I fled, with my illicit pipe,

To assuage stomach-aches when green apples were "ripe."

There's the collar and churn,wornby Dash day by day,And the chain that prevented his running away;And the yoke for the oxen—Haw, Buck! and Gee, Bride!And the Troth for the Squealers the hen-house beside.

There's the collar and churn,wornby Dash day by day,

And the chain that prevented his running away;

And the yoke for the oxen—Haw, Buck! and Gee, Bride!

And the Troth for the Squealers the hen-house beside.

There's the Dovecote, unroofed, and the sweep by the well,And the ooze in the barnyard and natural-gas smell:There's the hayrake and silo; the tin weathervane,And the two, moss-grown graves where the Old Folks were lain.

There's the Dovecote, unroofed, and the sweep by the well,

And the ooze in the barnyard and natural-gas smell:

There's the hayrake and silo; the tin weathervane,

And the two, moss-grown graves where the Old Folks were lain.

And the milk-stools are there, and the cowpath and stile;And a few hardy scarecrows remain yet awhile;And the taxes, unpaid, still appear on the bookOf the County Collector, Nathaniel U. Crook.

And the milk-stools are there, and the cowpath and stile;

And a few hardy scarecrows remain yet awhile;

And the taxes, unpaid, still appear on the book

Of the County Collector, Nathaniel U. Crook.

So I keep coming back, to my old Hoosier shack,To inhale the sweet mildew of hay in the stack,And to drink from the spring where the bull-frogs aboundThat protect the young cowslips that grow all around.

So I keep coming back, to my old Hoosier shack,

To inhale the sweet mildew of hay in the stack,

And to drink from the spring where the bull-frogs abound

That protect the young cowslips that grow all around.

Now the mortgage is due and the int'rest unpaid,And I can't get a cent for the place, I'm afraid;But I love to return here, at vacation time,Just to revel again in the mud and the slime.

Now the mortgage is due and the int'rest unpaid,

And I can't get a cent for the place, I'm afraid;

But I love to return here, at vacation time,

Just to revel again in the mud and the slime.

The Paleface undertook, with sword and gun,To civilize the Redskins one by one;And Lo attempted, with his bow and arrow,To sap the Paleface of his very marrow.As fast as one, on either side, was slainAnother took his place to fight again;Thus both the warring tribes said—"What's the use?"And straightway called a halt and signed a truce.Then Paleface planned and dug—andwellof course—A pit for Lo, without resort to force;And Lo, in turn, a counter plan inventedTo clear the forests where the Paleface tented.And so the Paleface, from his fullness, gaveA cask of Laughing Water to each Brave;And Lo, whose giving was an artful knack,Took up the scent and sent tobacco back.So, Time discloses how each plan availed;Which won, at last, and which, in order, failed,For now inPeacethe Paleface moves about,While Lo and Laughing Waterfight it out.He was the first to fly—Darius Green!But Green had trouble with hiscrudemachineAnd failed to make a mark for lofty flying,And so he justdropped outand gave up trying.The Pickaninny to the bayou goesAnd caches on the bank his homespun clothes;Then headlong leaps into the pool belowWhere Imps of Darkness destined are to go.An alligator sees the urchin diveAnd, Holy Moses! swallows him alive,Not thinking that the Africstrength, thus caged,Would prove his match and master when engaged:But so it did! for Fate evolved a planTo snatch the "charcoal" from the saurian;And as the latter spewed and lashed his tail,(A tale like Jonah wrestling with the whale)The lad escaped; of course he had to shout some!So overjoyed was he at such anoutcome.When Aaron Burr decided to inviteHis hated rival to a pistol fight,He knew, of course, because his aim was wicked,That his opponent, in advance, was líckéd.And thus the scheme of Providence beganTo canonize the Hamiltonian.Had Mary tied her lambkin in the barn,There might have been a different kind of yarn.She could have said "I leave you" with the bull,Or "I'll return anon," and pulled the wool;The lamb could have replied—"What's all this for?I'll meet you, Mary, in the abattoir!"But No! They had to make the sheep the goatAnd tie a siren bell around his throat,And make him go to school. "Kids," as a rule,Would rathermuchbe killed than go to school.Had Nero played on burning Rome the hoseInstead of fiddling while the blazes rose,He might have been, in Fame's Retort, a hero,Firemano Primo Volunteero Nero.But quite another part this Cæsar played,The part of Arson in red robes arrayed.He watched the fire, in all its flares and phases,Quite unconcerned, but fiddled on like blazes.But Nero didn't finish what he startedBecause, while Rome still burned, his E string parted.Tho Julius Cæsar's Wars our lives inspireThis Cæsar wouldn't even fight a fire;Nor would he lead the Roman Legions, thoHe was reputed skillful with the bow;Perhaps the smoke-screen from the burning cityWas planned to hide the discords of his ditty;And when at last this King is placed on trial,This verdict will prevail,—his work was viol.Had Antony been less a Marc and keptHis armor on while Cleopatra slept,He might have been a Conqueror of noteInstead of Captor of a Petticoat;And, traitor to his country, judged to beA Soldier less than Slave to Lingerie.Some Commentators—and I blush with shame—Contend that "Cle" and Sheba were the same:If this contention's true, as I surmise,It follows that King Solomon was wise;And so was Sheba when she left his regionsBy camel-carriage for the Roman Legions,—Leaving the King, with all his wives and breeders,To pine for her among the stately cedars.I'm not quite sure, but who's the bigger dunce?The King? Or Marc, who got in wrongbut once?The oldtime Reader taught us self-reliance(But this refers to school-days—not to Science!)And pointed out, in no uncertain style,Examples we should follow or revile.Old Rover, for example, was to meThe highest standard of true loyalty.He used to hang around the playground gateAnd there for Bones, his Master, sit and wait,Though Bones, poor dunce, each day when school was over,Was kept and spanked, but waited still old Rover.The Reader states that Rover, too, was fleet,And never knew the anguish of de feet;And had a face so honest, ear so quick,That he could steal a bone and dodge a stick.That's all the Reader says, but I believeHe grew too diabetic to retrieve,And so was cast aside—the poor old brute!Because the mange affected his hirsute;Was driven from the confines of his birthBecause not prized: Great Scott! a Kennelworth:And so, a rover still, thus doomed to fleaFar from his home and consanguinity;But, cast adrift in sinking bark, O, Setter!Than wienerwursts or sausages is better!There was a time when Henry Clay awokeTo see his fame and name go up in smoke.His reputation only went this far,That he was featured as a choice cigar.Before that day, when his renown was ripe,He also was distinguished as a pipe.Eliminating all attempts at joking,He was thus honored then, and still is smo-King.Had Eve, a woman of unusual birth,Who had the love of ev'ry man on earth,Been given what the modern wife receives,Fine frocks and hats instead of wreaths and leaves;A mansion, bank-account and car or carriage,Hers would have been the first ideal marriage.But selfish Adam took her to a cavern(Our present bridal parties seek a tavern.)And made her wash and sew and hem and hawWith fitting meekness 'cause his word was law.First Lady of the Land, she should have had 'em—All creature comforts but the stingy Adam.Faithful to husband, she should have insteadBroken her marriage vows upon his head.No wonder she was tempted: if she fell'Twas circumstantial, else she wouldn't tell.

The Paleface undertook, with sword and gun,

To civilize the Redskins one by one;

And Lo attempted, with his bow and arrow,

To sap the Paleface of his very marrow.

As fast as one, on either side, was slain

Another took his place to fight again;

Thus both the warring tribes said—"What's the use?"

And straightway called a halt and signed a truce.

Then Paleface planned and dug—andwellof course—A pit for Lo, without resort to force;And Lo, in turn, a counter plan inventedTo clear the forests where the Paleface tented.And so the Paleface, from his fullness, gaveA cask of Laughing Water to each Brave;And Lo, whose giving was an artful knack,Took up the scent and sent tobacco back.So, Time discloses how each plan availed;Which won, at last, and which, in order, failed,For now inPeacethe Paleface moves about,While Lo and Laughing Waterfight it out.

Then Paleface planned and dug—andwellof course—

A pit for Lo, without resort to force;

And Lo, in turn, a counter plan invented

To clear the forests where the Paleface tented.

And so the Paleface, from his fullness, gave

A cask of Laughing Water to each Brave;

And Lo, whose giving was an artful knack,

Took up the scent and sent tobacco back.

So, Time discloses how each plan availed;

Which won, at last, and which, in order, failed,

For now inPeacethe Paleface moves about,

While Lo and Laughing Waterfight it out.

He was the first to fly—Darius Green!But Green had trouble with hiscrudemachineAnd failed to make a mark for lofty flying,And so he justdropped outand gave up trying.

He was the first to fly—Darius Green!

But Green had trouble with hiscrudemachine

And failed to make a mark for lofty flying,

And so he justdropped outand gave up trying.

The Pickaninny to the bayou goesAnd caches on the bank his homespun clothes;Then headlong leaps into the pool belowWhere Imps of Darkness destined are to go.An alligator sees the urchin diveAnd, Holy Moses! swallows him alive,Not thinking that the Africstrength, thus caged,Would prove his match and master when engaged:But so it did! for Fate evolved a planTo snatch the "charcoal" from the saurian;And as the latter spewed and lashed his tail,(A tale like Jonah wrestling with the whale)The lad escaped; of course he had to shout some!So overjoyed was he at such anoutcome.

The Pickaninny to the bayou goes

And caches on the bank his homespun clothes;

Then headlong leaps into the pool below

Where Imps of Darkness destined are to go.

An alligator sees the urchin dive

And, Holy Moses! swallows him alive,

Not thinking that the Africstrength, thus caged,

Would prove his match and master when engaged:

But so it did! for Fate evolved a plan

To snatch the "charcoal" from the saurian;

And as the latter spewed and lashed his tail,

(A tale like Jonah wrestling with the whale)

The lad escaped; of course he had to shout some!

So overjoyed was he at such anoutcome.

When Aaron Burr decided to inviteHis hated rival to a pistol fight,He knew, of course, because his aim was wicked,That his opponent, in advance, was líckéd.And thus the scheme of Providence beganTo canonize the Hamiltonian.

When Aaron Burr decided to invite

His hated rival to a pistol fight,

He knew, of course, because his aim was wicked,

That his opponent, in advance, was líckéd.

And thus the scheme of Providence began

To canonize the Hamiltonian.

Had Mary tied her lambkin in the barn,There might have been a different kind of yarn.She could have said "I leave you" with the bull,Or "I'll return anon," and pulled the wool;

Had Mary tied her lambkin in the barn,

There might have been a different kind of yarn.

She could have said "I leave you" with the bull,

Or "I'll return anon," and pulled the wool;

The lamb could have replied—"What's all this for?I'll meet you, Mary, in the abattoir!"But No! They had to make the sheep the goatAnd tie a siren bell around his throat,And make him go to school. "Kids," as a rule,Would rathermuchbe killed than go to school.

The lamb could have replied—"What's all this for?

I'll meet you, Mary, in the abattoir!"

But No! They had to make the sheep the goat

And tie a siren bell around his throat,

And make him go to school. "Kids," as a rule,

Would rathermuchbe killed than go to school.

Had Nero played on burning Rome the hoseInstead of fiddling while the blazes rose,He might have been, in Fame's Retort, a hero,Firemano Primo Volunteero Nero.But quite another part this Cæsar played,The part of Arson in red robes arrayed.He watched the fire, in all its flares and phases,Quite unconcerned, but fiddled on like blazes.But Nero didn't finish what he startedBecause, while Rome still burned, his E string parted.Tho Julius Cæsar's Wars our lives inspireThis Cæsar wouldn't even fight a fire;Nor would he lead the Roman Legions, thoHe was reputed skillful with the bow;Perhaps the smoke-screen from the burning cityWas planned to hide the discords of his ditty;And when at last this King is placed on trial,This verdict will prevail,—his work was viol.

Had Nero played on burning Rome the hose

Instead of fiddling while the blazes rose,

He might have been, in Fame's Retort, a hero,

Firemano Primo Volunteero Nero.

But quite another part this Cæsar played,

The part of Arson in red robes arrayed.

He watched the fire, in all its flares and phases,

Quite unconcerned, but fiddled on like blazes.

But Nero didn't finish what he started

Because, while Rome still burned, his E string parted.

Tho Julius Cæsar's Wars our lives inspire

This Cæsar wouldn't even fight a fire;

Nor would he lead the Roman Legions, tho

He was reputed skillful with the bow;

Perhaps the smoke-screen from the burning city

Was planned to hide the discords of his ditty;

And when at last this King is placed on trial,

This verdict will prevail,—his work was viol.

Had Antony been less a Marc and keptHis armor on while Cleopatra slept,He might have been a Conqueror of noteInstead of Captor of a Petticoat;And, traitor to his country, judged to beA Soldier less than Slave to Lingerie.Some Commentators—and I blush with shame—Contend that "Cle" and Sheba were the same:If this contention's true, as I surmise,It follows that King Solomon was wise;And so was Sheba when she left his regionsBy camel-carriage for the Roman Legions,—Leaving the King, with all his wives and breeders,To pine for her among the stately cedars.I'm not quite sure, but who's the bigger dunce?The King? Or Marc, who got in wrongbut once?

Had Antony been less a Marc and kept

His armor on while Cleopatra slept,

He might have been a Conqueror of note

Instead of Captor of a Petticoat;

And, traitor to his country, judged to be

A Soldier less than Slave to Lingerie.

Some Commentators—and I blush with shame—

Contend that "Cle" and Sheba were the same:

If this contention's true, as I surmise,

It follows that King Solomon was wise;

And so was Sheba when she left his regions

By camel-carriage for the Roman Legions,—

Leaving the King, with all his wives and breeders,

To pine for her among the stately cedars.

I'm not quite sure, but who's the bigger dunce?

The King? Or Marc, who got in wrongbut once?

The oldtime Reader taught us self-reliance(But this refers to school-days—not to Science!)And pointed out, in no uncertain style,Examples we should follow or revile.Old Rover, for example, was to meThe highest standard of true loyalty.He used to hang around the playground gateAnd there for Bones, his Master, sit and wait,Though Bones, poor dunce, each day when school was over,Was kept and spanked, but waited still old Rover.

The oldtime Reader taught us self-reliance

(But this refers to school-days—not to Science!)

And pointed out, in no uncertain style,

Examples we should follow or revile.

Old Rover, for example, was to me

The highest standard of true loyalty.

He used to hang around the playground gate

And there for Bones, his Master, sit and wait,

Though Bones, poor dunce, each day when school was over,

Was kept and spanked, but waited still old Rover.

The Reader states that Rover, too, was fleet,And never knew the anguish of de feet;And had a face so honest, ear so quick,That he could steal a bone and dodge a stick.That's all the Reader says, but I believeHe grew too diabetic to retrieve,And so was cast aside—the poor old brute!Because the mange affected his hirsute;Was driven from the confines of his birthBecause not prized: Great Scott! a Kennelworth:And so, a rover still, thus doomed to fleaFar from his home and consanguinity;But, cast adrift in sinking bark, O, Setter!Than wienerwursts or sausages is better!

The Reader states that Rover, too, was fleet,

And never knew the anguish of de feet;

And had a face so honest, ear so quick,

That he could steal a bone and dodge a stick.

That's all the Reader says, but I believe

He grew too diabetic to retrieve,

And so was cast aside—the poor old brute!

Because the mange affected his hirsute;

Was driven from the confines of his birth

Because not prized: Great Scott! a Kennelworth:

And so, a rover still, thus doomed to flea

Far from his home and consanguinity;

But, cast adrift in sinking bark, O, Setter!

Than wienerwursts or sausages is better!

There was a time when Henry Clay awokeTo see his fame and name go up in smoke.His reputation only went this far,That he was featured as a choice cigar.Before that day, when his renown was ripe,He also was distinguished as a pipe.Eliminating all attempts at joking,He was thus honored then, and still is smo-King.

There was a time when Henry Clay awoke

To see his fame and name go up in smoke.

His reputation only went this far,

That he was featured as a choice cigar.

Before that day, when his renown was ripe,

He also was distinguished as a pipe.

Eliminating all attempts at joking,

He was thus honored then, and still is smo-King.

Had Eve, a woman of unusual birth,Who had the love of ev'ry man on earth,Been given what the modern wife receives,Fine frocks and hats instead of wreaths and leaves;A mansion, bank-account and car or carriage,Hers would have been the first ideal marriage.But selfish Adam took her to a cavern(Our present bridal parties seek a tavern.)And made her wash and sew and hem and hawWith fitting meekness 'cause his word was law.First Lady of the Land, she should have had 'em—All creature comforts but the stingy Adam.Faithful to husband, she should have insteadBroken her marriage vows upon his head.No wonder she was tempted: if she fell'Twas circumstantial, else she wouldn't tell.

Had Eve, a woman of unusual birth,

Who had the love of ev'ry man on earth,

Been given what the modern wife receives,

Fine frocks and hats instead of wreaths and leaves;

A mansion, bank-account and car or carriage,

Hers would have been the first ideal marriage.

But selfish Adam took her to a cavern

(Our present bridal parties seek a tavern.)

And made her wash and sew and hem and haw

With fitting meekness 'cause his word was law.

First Lady of the Land, she should have had 'em—

All creature comforts but the stingy Adam.

Faithful to husband, she should have instead

Broken her marriage vows upon his head.

No wonder she was tempted: if she fell

'Twas circumstantial, else she wouldn't tell.

Hear the perfume of the belles,Social belles!What a loud auroma, a monopoly in smells!How they stinkle, stinkle, stinkle,When the corsage bursts in sight!While the powder in each wrinkleAnd the gewgaw gems that twinkleMake them ugly in the light;Reeking scent, scent, scent,When they're upright, prone or bentWhile the sachet begs for freedom, and the musk, revolting, yellsOn the belles, belles, belles, belles,Belles, belles, belles,On the weary, bleary, smeary Social Belles.Hear the monstrous Schoolhouse bells,Direful bells!What a dirge of irony their ting-a-ling expels!Like the chanticleer at morn,How they torture us, and warnWe must hurry or be cannedAt call of roll.How they peel their tunics andWhoop 'er up, with tireless tongues, to beat the band;What a toll!O, you blatant, brazen shells!You ringers for Mephisto, from superheated hells,With your knells!Truth compelsThat we voice our joy with yells'Cause you're hung and bound in cellsWhile we're swearing and despairing,O, you bells, bells, bells,Wicked bells, bells, bells, bells,Bells, bells, bells,O, you rocking, mocking, shocking Schoolhouse bells!

Hear the perfume of the belles,

Social belles!

What a loud auroma, a monopoly in smells!

How they stinkle, stinkle, stinkle,

When the corsage bursts in sight!

While the powder in each wrinkle

And the gewgaw gems that twinkle

Make them ugly in the light;

Reeking scent, scent, scent,

When they're upright, prone or bent

While the sachet begs for freedom, and the musk, revolting, yells

On the belles, belles, belles, belles,

Belles, belles, belles,

On the weary, bleary, smeary Social Belles.

Hear the monstrous Schoolhouse bells,Direful bells!What a dirge of irony their ting-a-ling expels!Like the chanticleer at morn,How they torture us, and warnWe must hurry or be cannedAt call of roll.How they peel their tunics andWhoop 'er up, with tireless tongues, to beat the band;What a toll!

Hear the monstrous Schoolhouse bells,

Direful bells!

What a dirge of irony their ting-a-ling expels!

Like the chanticleer at morn,

How they torture us, and warn

We must hurry or be canned

At call of roll.

How they peel their tunics and

Whoop 'er up, with tireless tongues, to beat the band;

What a toll!

O, you blatant, brazen shells!You ringers for Mephisto, from superheated hells,With your knells!Truth compelsThat we voice our joy with yells'Cause you're hung and bound in cellsWhile we're swearing and despairing,O, you bells, bells, bells,Wicked bells, bells, bells, bells,Bells, bells, bells,O, you rocking, mocking, shocking Schoolhouse bells!

O, you blatant, brazen shells!

You ringers for Mephisto, from superheated hells,

With your knells!

Truth compels

That we voice our joy with yells

'Cause you're hung and bound in cells

While we're swearing and despairing,

O, you bells, bells, bells,

Wicked bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells,

O, you rocking, mocking, shocking Schoolhouse bells!

Do ye know me mon Sandy,—Sandy the Piper?'E's 'ome on a leave, with 'is chin shot away!They wouldn't a 'armed 'im, but some blooming sniperJust slipped 'im a slug from a roof in Bombay.'Ow did it all 'appen? Well, just one battalionWas left in the Barracks: the rest 'ad been sentTo guard the new Viceroy, with Major MacCallion:It was dubbed the "'Ot Scotch," this 12th Regiment.The Colonel was sick with a Jungle disorder,And 'arf of the time was well out of 'is 'ead;And when the Sepoys, from the 'Yderbad BorderRevolted and rushed us, the Colonel was dead.So Sandy and men were besieged and near choking,And most the battalion was killed or 'ad fell,While the fiends in the street, like devils a stoking,Were firing this 'ell 'ole with bullet and shell.'Twas 'ere that me Sandy broke out thru a window,Disguised as a Rajah, with turban and sword;And so, quite unnoticed (they thought him a Indoo!)'E soon joined the ranks of the mutinous 'orde.And then 'e 'arrangued 'em ('e knew all their jargon!)And urged 'em to scatter and uphold the law;But 'ere 'e was thru 'e was sick of 'is bargainWhen a bloody bomb-bullet 'alf shattered 'is jaw.So Sandy's back 'ome, but his features are altered:What a close shave 'e 'ad! 'is face is a sight!But when duty called 'e was there and ne'er faltered:With toot, shoot or Hoot, Mon! 'e mixed in the fight.'Is goatee is gone, with the chin where 'e grew it:'E was once very bonnie when 'e was a lad;And 'is bagpipe would charm me: my, 'ow 'e blew it!When 'e marched with 'is squad, a playing like mad.And I makes o'er 'im still, tho Sandy's not pretty,But a 'ero 'e is in Northlands and South:A gude wife I've been, tho I think it a pityThat Sandy was given toshoot off 'is mouth.

Do ye know me mon Sandy,—Sandy the Piper?'E's 'ome on a leave, with 'is chin shot away!They wouldn't a 'armed 'im, but some blooming sniperJust slipped 'im a slug from a roof in Bombay.

Do ye know me mon Sandy,—Sandy the Piper?

'E's 'ome on a leave, with 'is chin shot away!

They wouldn't a 'armed 'im, but some blooming sniper

Just slipped 'im a slug from a roof in Bombay.

'Ow did it all 'appen? Well, just one battalionWas left in the Barracks: the rest 'ad been sentTo guard the new Viceroy, with Major MacCallion:It was dubbed the "'Ot Scotch," this 12th Regiment.

'Ow did it all 'appen? Well, just one battalion

Was left in the Barracks: the rest 'ad been sent

To guard the new Viceroy, with Major MacCallion:

It was dubbed the "'Ot Scotch," this 12th Regiment.

The Colonel was sick with a Jungle disorder,And 'arf of the time was well out of 'is 'ead;And when the Sepoys, from the 'Yderbad BorderRevolted and rushed us, the Colonel was dead.

The Colonel was sick with a Jungle disorder,

And 'arf of the time was well out of 'is 'ead;

And when the Sepoys, from the 'Yderbad Border

Revolted and rushed us, the Colonel was dead.

So Sandy and men were besieged and near choking,And most the battalion was killed or 'ad fell,While the fiends in the street, like devils a stoking,Were firing this 'ell 'ole with bullet and shell.

So Sandy and men were besieged and near choking,

And most the battalion was killed or 'ad fell,

While the fiends in the street, like devils a stoking,

Were firing this 'ell 'ole with bullet and shell.

'Twas 'ere that me Sandy broke out thru a window,Disguised as a Rajah, with turban and sword;And so, quite unnoticed (they thought him a Indoo!)'E soon joined the ranks of the mutinous 'orde.

'Twas 'ere that me Sandy broke out thru a window,

Disguised as a Rajah, with turban and sword;

And so, quite unnoticed (they thought him a Indoo!)

'E soon joined the ranks of the mutinous 'orde.

And then 'e 'arrangued 'em ('e knew all their jargon!)And urged 'em to scatter and uphold the law;But 'ere 'e was thru 'e was sick of 'is bargainWhen a bloody bomb-bullet 'alf shattered 'is jaw.

And then 'e 'arrangued 'em ('e knew all their jargon!)

And urged 'em to scatter and uphold the law;

But 'ere 'e was thru 'e was sick of 'is bargain

When a bloody bomb-bullet 'alf shattered 'is jaw.

So Sandy's back 'ome, but his features are altered:What a close shave 'e 'ad! 'is face is a sight!But when duty called 'e was there and ne'er faltered:With toot, shoot or Hoot, Mon! 'e mixed in the fight.

So Sandy's back 'ome, but his features are altered:

What a close shave 'e 'ad! 'is face is a sight!

But when duty called 'e was there and ne'er faltered:

With toot, shoot or Hoot, Mon! 'e mixed in the fight.

'Is goatee is gone, with the chin where 'e grew it:'E was once very bonnie when 'e was a lad;And 'is bagpipe would charm me: my, 'ow 'e blew it!When 'e marched with 'is squad, a playing like mad.

'Is goatee is gone, with the chin where 'e grew it:

'E was once very bonnie when 'e was a lad;

And 'is bagpipe would charm me: my, 'ow 'e blew it!

When 'e marched with 'is squad, a playing like mad.

And I makes o'er 'im still, tho Sandy's not pretty,But a 'ero 'e is in Northlands and South:A gude wife I've been, tho I think it a pityThat Sandy was given toshoot off 'is mouth.

And I makes o'er 'im still, tho Sandy's not pretty,

But a 'ero 'e is in Northlands and South:

A gude wife I've been, tho I think it a pity

That Sandy was given toshoot off 'is mouth.

Ben Franklin was a Jester of the sortThat fused, with wit, rare wisdom in retort;And, on his mettle, tempered by a smileHis irony could hold themallawhile.King Louis' Court to impotence made pleaBefore the onslaughts of his repartee.His well-aimed jibes were quite as hard to dodgeAs meteors agleam with persiflage.His oily tongue worked on a swinging swivel,For hespat outhis thoughts and didn't drivel.The Quakers, in his absence, had attacksOf blues, because they missed his almanacs;And Frenchmen soon began to understandAnd praise his jokes (in England contraband).He said to Louis, "Sire, the skies are down;I wouldn't give a Fillip for your crown."And added, "Nay, I wouldn't give a sou!There's just one Philip, but sixteen of you!"He had no fear, you see, of raining Kings,And, with umbrella raised, enjoyed his flings.Such pointed punsdisfavoroft beget,But Louis laughed and so did Lafayette.Tho galley slave, like creatures of his type,He broke his chains, when Freedom's plans were ripe,And put the U. S. A. upon the chart,Allied to France, thru diplomatic art.To-day Ben Bolt, who clipped the lion's claws,For lightning work gets thunderous applause.The thunderbolts obeyed at his command,And currents, insubordinate, were canned.He kept the Upper Regions on the stringAnd shocked the Lower World like everything.All praise to Franklin, Diplomatic Star!He went where he was sent, but nottoo far:And tho he flew his mortal kite so high,Poor Richard's name illuminates the sky.

Ben Franklin was a Jester of the sort

That fused, with wit, rare wisdom in retort;

And, on his mettle, tempered by a smile

His irony could hold themallawhile.

King Louis' Court to impotence made plea

Before the onslaughts of his repartee.

His well-aimed jibes were quite as hard to dodge

As meteors agleam with persiflage.

His oily tongue worked on a swinging swivel,

For hespat outhis thoughts and didn't drivel.

The Quakers, in his absence, had attacks

Of blues, because they missed his almanacs;

And Frenchmen soon began to understand

And praise his jokes (in England contraband).

He said to Louis, "Sire, the skies are down;

I wouldn't give a Fillip for your crown."

And added, "Nay, I wouldn't give a sou!

There's just one Philip, but sixteen of you!"

He had no fear, you see, of raining Kings,

And, with umbrella raised, enjoyed his flings.

Such pointed punsdisfavoroft beget,

But Louis laughed and so did Lafayette.

Tho galley slave, like creatures of his type,

He broke his chains, when Freedom's plans were ripe,

And put the U. S. A. upon the chart,

Allied to France, thru diplomatic art.

To-day Ben Bolt, who clipped the lion's claws,

For lightning work gets thunderous applause.

The thunderbolts obeyed at his command,

And currents, insubordinate, were canned.

He kept the Upper Regions on the string

And shocked the Lower World like everything.

All praise to Franklin, Diplomatic Star!

He went where he was sent, but nottoo far:

And tho he flew his mortal kite so high,

Poor Richard's name illuminates the sky.

The bale consigned to O. U. Crook,Upholsterer—marked,USE NO HOOK,Was not curled hair or even moss,Nor yet a mixture or a cross,Excelsior!"This Davenport was made to wear;Fine leather and best camel hair!"Said Crook (a patent skin all right,But all the "hair" was out of sight).Excelsior!And so Crook sold the lounge or couchTo some poor Boob with gold-filled pouch;And also sold an easy chair(The Easy Mark was stuffed for fair.)Excelsior!And thus he plied his artful trade(A better Craftsman ne'er was made)Until the shavings, dyed and curled,Resembled hair for all the world.Excelsior!O, baleful occupation his!The way he made his mattressesWould make a lounging layman sick.He sold for cash and gave no tick tick—Excelsior!A mark-down sale Crook staged in time—"Such bed-rock prices are a crime,""I get my hair by camel-train":But all his "hair" was cut in Maine—Excelsior!And then a fire occurred at lengthTo bolster Crook's financial strength:Thegluethat mocked the incensed airMistaken was for burning hair;Excelsior!Beware the pine-tree's fibrous heart!But this gave Crook his fiscal start,And now a tall, pine shaft is seenAbove Crook's grave; 'tis evergreen—Excelsior!

The bale consigned to O. U. Crook,Upholsterer—marked,USE NO HOOK,Was not curled hair or even moss,Nor yet a mixture or a cross,Excelsior!

The bale consigned to O. U. Crook,

Upholsterer—marked,USE NO HOOK,

Was not curled hair or even moss,

Nor yet a mixture or a cross,

Excelsior!

"This Davenport was made to wear;Fine leather and best camel hair!"Said Crook (a patent skin all right,But all the "hair" was out of sight).Excelsior!

"This Davenport was made to wear;

Fine leather and best camel hair!"

Said Crook (a patent skin all right,

But all the "hair" was out of sight).

Excelsior!

And so Crook sold the lounge or couchTo some poor Boob with gold-filled pouch;And also sold an easy chair(The Easy Mark was stuffed for fair.)Excelsior!

And so Crook sold the lounge or couch

To some poor Boob with gold-filled pouch;

And also sold an easy chair

(The Easy Mark was stuffed for fair.)

Excelsior!

And thus he plied his artful trade(A better Craftsman ne'er was made)Until the shavings, dyed and curled,Resembled hair for all the world.Excelsior!

And thus he plied his artful trade

(A better Craftsman ne'er was made)

Until the shavings, dyed and curled,

Resembled hair for all the world.

Excelsior!

O, baleful occupation his!The way he made his mattressesWould make a lounging layman sick.He sold for cash and gave no tick tick—Excelsior!

O, baleful occupation his!

The way he made his mattresses

Would make a lounging layman sick.

He sold for cash and gave no tick tick—

Excelsior!

A mark-down sale Crook staged in time—"Such bed-rock prices are a crime,""I get my hair by camel-train":But all his "hair" was cut in Maine—Excelsior!

A mark-down sale Crook staged in time—

"Such bed-rock prices are a crime,"

"I get my hair by camel-train":

But all his "hair" was cut in Maine—

Excelsior!

And then a fire occurred at lengthTo bolster Crook's financial strength:Thegluethat mocked the incensed airMistaken was for burning hair;Excelsior!

And then a fire occurred at length

To bolster Crook's financial strength:

Thegluethat mocked the incensed air

Mistaken was for burning hair;

Excelsior!

Beware the pine-tree's fibrous heart!But this gave Crook his fiscal start,And now a tall, pine shaft is seenAbove Crook's grave; 'tis evergreen—Excelsior!

Beware the pine-tree's fibrous heart!

But this gave Crook his fiscal start,

And now a tall, pine shaft is seen

Above Crook's grave; 'tis evergreen—

Excelsior!

Her

To-day's her birthday: I'll not say which one,—But I have known her twenty years or moreWhen courtship days were joyously begun,And she had reached her sixteenth year, before.And so her age is no concern of mine:She may have dropped a birthday now and then,But surely she's improved with age like wine:I wouldn't wish her in herteensagain.And she's my Pal! O, yes, we love, of course!But feel, besides, the joy of comradeshipThat finds expression at Love's very sourceIn language of the heart—not of the lip.And so she is my everlasting pride:To Beauty's very pinnacle she's grown!Thru life we'll seek our pleasures side by side;Her heart athrob with love for me alone.

To-day's her birthday: I'll not say which one,—But I have known her twenty years or moreWhen courtship days were joyously begun,And she had reached her sixteenth year, before.

To-day's her birthday: I'll not say which one,—

But I have known her twenty years or more

When courtship days were joyously begun,

And she had reached her sixteenth year, before.

And so her age is no concern of mine:She may have dropped a birthday now and then,But surely she's improved with age like wine:I wouldn't wish her in herteensagain.

And so her age is no concern of mine:

She may have dropped a birthday now and then,

But surely she's improved with age like wine:

I wouldn't wish her in herteensagain.

And she's my Pal! O, yes, we love, of course!But feel, besides, the joy of comradeshipThat finds expression at Love's very sourceIn language of the heart—not of the lip.

And she's my Pal! O, yes, we love, of course!

But feel, besides, the joy of comradeship

That finds expression at Love's very source

In language of the heart—not of the lip.

And so she is my everlasting pride:To Beauty's very pinnacle she's grown!Thru life we'll seek our pleasures side by side;Her heart athrob with love for me alone.

And so she is my everlasting pride:

To Beauty's very pinnacle she's grown!

Thru life we'll seek our pleasures side by side;

Her heart athrob with love for me alone.

Him

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