THE TOUCHING BALLAD OF GENERAL VON BEERS

“Your questions, my boy, are getting too free,”The Kaiser with anger protested—“Your impudence borders onLésé Majesté;Be off, or I’ll have you arrested.”

“Your questions, my boy, are getting too free,”

The Kaiser with anger protested—

“Your impudence borders onLésé Majesté;

Be off, or I’ll have you arrested.”

To the Tune of W. S. Gilbert

Major Fritz-Schinkenwurst Hofbrau Von BeersWas the pride and the joy of the Pruss Grenadiers.You’ve guessed him a Prussian, shrewd reader, at sight,And a glance at his manners will prove you are right.In his fervour for “Frightfulness” Major Von BeersAcknowledged no betters and precious few peers.And every one envied his well-earned reputeFor arson and pillage and rapine and loot.No symphony held such delectable tonesFor the ears of Von Beers as the shrieks and the groansOf women and children bombarded with shell,Or the crash of a hospital tumbling pell-mell.One day from Berlin came the order “RefrainFor the present from Frightfulness. Start Press Campaign.Von Bernstorff has wired we’re getting in wrongWith the Yankees, so play upHUMANITYstrong.”Loud, loud were the wailings of Hofbrau Von Beers.But duty is duty, so drying his tears,He purchased a volume by Peter F. DunneOn “How to be Civilised, though you’re a Hun.”He swatted up Honour, and Peace and Good-willFor a year seven months and a fortnight until,You’ll scarcely believe it, that Hun I declareAcquired a sort of a civilised air.It was balky, spasmodic and apt to take flightWhen a press correspondent was nowhere in sight.It was clumsy, uncertain and crude, I’m aware,Yet distinctly suggested a civilised air.He started at once a colossal campaignAnd filled correspondents with fibs and champagne,And the press correspondents all voted Von BeersA prince of good fellows, ’mid deafening cheers.Thenceforth when a soldier forgot to salute,Von Beers would use kindness instead of his boot.And he lectured a laggard he’d rather have shot,If a newspaper man chanced to be on the spot.

Major Fritz-Schinkenwurst Hofbrau Von Beers

Was the pride and the joy of the Pruss Grenadiers.

You’ve guessed him a Prussian, shrewd reader, at sight,

And a glance at his manners will prove you are right.

In his fervour for “Frightfulness” Major Von BeersAcknowledged no betters and precious few peers.And every one envied his well-earned reputeFor arson and pillage and rapine and loot.

In his fervour for “Frightfulness” Major Von Beers

Acknowledged no betters and precious few peers.

And every one envied his well-earned repute

For arson and pillage and rapine and loot.

No symphony held such delectable tonesFor the ears of Von Beers as the shrieks and the groansOf women and children bombarded with shell,Or the crash of a hospital tumbling pell-mell.

No symphony held such delectable tones

For the ears of Von Beers as the shrieks and the groans

Of women and children bombarded with shell,

Or the crash of a hospital tumbling pell-mell.

One day from Berlin came the order “RefrainFor the present from Frightfulness. Start Press Campaign.Von Bernstorff has wired we’re getting in wrongWith the Yankees, so play upHUMANITYstrong.”

One day from Berlin came the order “Refrain

For the present from Frightfulness. Start Press Campaign.

Von Bernstorff has wired we’re getting in wrong

With the Yankees, so play upHUMANITYstrong.”

Loud, loud were the wailings of Hofbrau Von Beers.But duty is duty, so drying his tears,He purchased a volume by Peter F. DunneOn “How to be Civilised, though you’re a Hun.”

Loud, loud were the wailings of Hofbrau Von Beers.

But duty is duty, so drying his tears,

He purchased a volume by Peter F. Dunne

On “How to be Civilised, though you’re a Hun.”

He swatted up Honour, and Peace and Good-willFor a year seven months and a fortnight until,You’ll scarcely believe it, that Hun I declareAcquired a sort of a civilised air.

He swatted up Honour, and Peace and Good-will

For a year seven months and a fortnight until,

You’ll scarcely believe it, that Hun I declare

Acquired a sort of a civilised air.

It was balky, spasmodic and apt to take flightWhen a press correspondent was nowhere in sight.It was clumsy, uncertain and crude, I’m aware,Yet distinctly suggested a civilised air.

It was balky, spasmodic and apt to take flight

When a press correspondent was nowhere in sight.

It was clumsy, uncertain and crude, I’m aware,

Yet distinctly suggested a civilised air.

He started at once a colossal campaignAnd filled correspondents with fibs and champagne,And the press correspondents all voted Von BeersA prince of good fellows, ’mid deafening cheers.

He started at once a colossal campaign

And filled correspondents with fibs and champagne,

And the press correspondents all voted Von Beers

A prince of good fellows, ’mid deafening cheers.

Thenceforth when a soldier forgot to salute,Von Beers would use kindness instead of his boot.And he lectured a laggard he’d rather have shot,If a newspaper man chanced to be on the spot.

Thenceforth when a soldier forgot to salute,

Von Beers would use kindness instead of his boot.

And he lectured a laggard he’d rather have shot,

If a newspaper man chanced to be on the spot.

If a sentinel, smoking, he happened to catch,Instead of a hiding he gave him a match.A caress took the place of a clout on the ear,That is, when a war correspondent was near.He distributed photos of Godfearing HunsFeeding babies with Beef Broth, Bananas and Buns,And snapshots of Willie that caught his gay glanceAnd others depicting him weeping for France.The fame of Von Hofbrau spread over the land,And rich Lady nurses proposed for his hand,

If a sentinel, smoking, he happened to catch,

Instead of a hiding he gave him a match.

A caress took the place of a clout on the ear,

That is, when a war correspondent was near.

He distributed photos of Godfearing HunsFeeding babies with Beef Broth, Bananas and Buns,And snapshots of Willie that caught his gay glanceAnd others depicting him weeping for France.

He distributed photos of Godfearing Huns

Feeding babies with Beef Broth, Bananas and Buns,

And snapshots of Willie that caught his gay glance

And others depicting him weeping for France.

The fame of Von Hofbrau spread over the land,And rich Lady nurses proposed for his hand,

The fame of Von Hofbrau spread over the land,

And rich Lady nurses proposed for his hand,

And the Kaiser, All Highest, ’mid deafening tearsPinned a cast-iron Halo on Major Von Beers.

And the Kaiser, All Highest, ’mid deafening tears

Pinned a cast-iron Halo on Major Von Beers.

A Sniffle in One Act

CHARACTERS

TheGerman Emperor...

Others not to be mentioned in the same cast.

SCENE

A luxurious dressing room adjoining the Emperor’s Bedroom.

TIME

This morning. The Emperor is discovered standing before a Cheval Glass. He is dressed in what is known as “Athletic Underwear,” with plain black socks, upheld by Boston Garters.

Emperor:

It is not often that one seesAn Emperor in B. V. D.’s.

A knock is heard on the door.

Emperor:

Herein!

A high officer enters with a telegram.

A wire?

Officer:

Yes, Sire, a wire!

Emperor:Tears open envelope.

You may retire.

Reads

Von Hindenburg has wired to sayOur noble troops have won the dayCaptured a Russian SamovarAnd several tons of caviarVodka a fabulous amountAnd Droskys more than we can countThe greatest battle of the war,Won by the Fourteenth Army CorpsAll honour to the Lord therefore,Likewise the Fourteenth Army Corps.

Chorus of Officers:

All honour to the Lord therefore,Not to speak of the Fourteenth Army Corps.

Emperor:

The Lord Be Praised! This cheering newsWill cure my cold and banish my blues.I haven’t felt anything like so wellSince my gallant Navy with shot and shellBombarded the Scarborough Infant SchoolAnd the Orphan Asylum at Hartlepool.

Chorus of Officers:

He hasn’t felt anything like so wellSince the Babes were bombarded with shot and shell.

Emperor:

Enough! Enough! Less cheering pleaseWith my nervous system it disagrees.Alas! My joyIs not without alloy.

Looks at telegram sadly.

Oh wretched me! On this glorious dayWhen I should have been in the thick of the frayI lay in bedWith a cold in my head:Hot water bottles, Quinine and SquillsMustard Plasters, and Camphor Pills.And when they tell of this victoryThey do not so much as mention ME!While peans of praise and plaudits pourOn the Lord—and the Fourteenth Army Corps!

Weeps.

Enter chorus of Highborn Lady Nurses bearing clinical thermometers.

First Nurse:

Oh Sire we entreat!

Second Nurse:

This is most indiscreet!

Third Nurse:

A temperature we dread—

Fourth Nurse:

Ohpleasego back to bed—

First Nurse:

Please do as you are told,You have an awful cold.

Emperor:Furious.

A cold!!

Nurse:

I meant to sayBroncho-Pneumonia.

Emperor:

Mine was no common plebeian ill,’Twas a Pneumo-Psycho-Bronchial chillAccording to my medical adviserI caught it when I walked upon the Yser.

Nurse:

You walked!

Emperor:

I should have said I tried—You see it was high tideAnd I was much annoyedTo find the bridge destroyed.But never at a lossI tried to walk across.

Angrily

But by the Eternal OneI swear it can’t be doneAnd never was——

Stops suddenly and makes as if about to sneeze.Nurses regard him apprehensively.Emperor sneezes.

First Nurse:

Ach! Himmel! what a sneeze!

Second Nurse:

Oh Sire! Please!——

Third Nurse:

Ohplease!

Fourth Nurse:

Your cold’s gone to your head!

All Together:

YouMUSTgo back to bed!

They seize the Emperor and pull him, struggling, through the door leading to the bedroom.

Emperor:

Nein! Nein! Unhand me, wenches!My place is in the trenches.

Enter High Officer.

High Officer:Looks about him cautiously.

’Tis an ill wind they sayThat profits nobody,And this Imperial sneezeMay bring us victories,With Him in bed there’ll beSome chance for strategy.If on the other hand——

Emperor:Heard off stage

What ho! My horse!

The Emperor enters

High Officer:Anxiously

You go?

Emperor:Haughtily

Of course!

CURTAIN

Surnamed the Tentbreaker

IAh, Franz! Could you and I with Gott conspireTo grab this sorry little globe entire,Would we not shatter it to bits, and thenRemould it nearer to our heart’s desire?IIYou all know how, the world to overwhelmI made a second Sparta of my realmAnd “dropped the Pilot” from my ship of StateTo lay my own mailed fist upon the helm.IIIAnd how myself did eagerly frequentCouncils of war and heard great argumentAbout it and about, and every yearCame out with great and greater armament.IVFor though inMEandMINEI set great storeAndTHEEandTHINEare terms that I abhor,Of all that one should care to fathom, IWas never deep in anything but—war.VBernhardi, Nietzsche, Treitschke, who discussedOf the “Next War,” so wisely, they are thrustLike foolish prophets forth, their words to scornAre scattered and their mouths are stopped with dust.VIWith them the seed of warfare did I sow,And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow.And this is all the Harvest I have reaped:“I came like thunder—and like wind I go!”VIIAnd lately from Hell’s Cavern Door rose upA shape Titanic, ravening to supOn Living Human Fodder, and he badeMe give him taste of it; and ’twas—The Krupp.VIIIThe Krupp that can with Logic absoluteThe plans of modern Strategists confuteThe steel iconoclast that in a triceThe strongest Fortress into Dust transmute.IXThe Krupp no question makes of Aye and No,But strikes alike Cathedral or ChâteauAnd I who send it out into the Field—I know about it all—I know—I know!XAnd much as War has made an infidelOf me, and robbed me of my honour, wellI often wonder what the Devil hasOne half so devilish as I—In Hell!XIAh, butmyinnovations people sayPlaced war upon a sounder basis? Nay,’Twas only striking from War’s lexiconThe termsTRUTH, HONOUR, DECENCY, FAIR PLAY.XIIThe Treaties that I set my seal uponAre turned to dust and ashes, which anonLike snowflakes falling in a muddy streetLighting a little hour or two are gone.XIIIWhat if my sword can fling the Sheath asideAnd naked plunge into the crimson tide,Were’t not a shame, were’t not a shame for me,By a “mere scrap of paper” to abide?XIVIndeed, indeed, continually I sworeFor Peace—but was I solemn when I swore?And then—then came the Day and sword in handMy threadbare piety apieces tore.XVFrom Europe’s centre, through the Belgian gateI rode and at the Door of Paris sate.And many a city ravished by the road,But Paris—she is still immaculate.XVIHere was the Gate to which I found no key;Here was the Wall o’er which I might not see.Some little talk awhile of strategyThere was, and then—good afternoon, Paree!

IAh, Franz! Could you and I with Gott conspireTo grab this sorry little globe entire,Would we not shatter it to bits, and thenRemould it nearer to our heart’s desire?

Ah, Franz! Could you and I with Gott conspire

To grab this sorry little globe entire,

Would we not shatter it to bits, and then

Remould it nearer to our heart’s desire?

IIYou all know how, the world to overwhelmI made a second Sparta of my realmAnd “dropped the Pilot” from my ship of StateTo lay my own mailed fist upon the helm.

You all know how, the world to overwhelm

I made a second Sparta of my realm

And “dropped the Pilot” from my ship of State

To lay my own mailed fist upon the helm.

IIIAnd how myself did eagerly frequentCouncils of war and heard great argumentAbout it and about, and every yearCame out with great and greater armament.

III

And how myself did eagerly frequent

Councils of war and heard great argument

About it and about, and every year

Came out with great and greater armament.

IVFor though inMEandMINEI set great storeAndTHEEandTHINEare terms that I abhor,Of all that one should care to fathom, IWas never deep in anything but—war.

For though inMEandMINEI set great store

AndTHEEandTHINEare terms that I abhor,

Of all that one should care to fathom, I

Was never deep in anything but—war.

VBernhardi, Nietzsche, Treitschke, who discussedOf the “Next War,” so wisely, they are thrustLike foolish prophets forth, their words to scornAre scattered and their mouths are stopped with dust.

Bernhardi, Nietzsche, Treitschke, who discussed

Of the “Next War,” so wisely, they are thrust

Like foolish prophets forth, their words to scorn

Are scattered and their mouths are stopped with dust.

VIWith them the seed of warfare did I sow,And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow.And this is all the Harvest I have reaped:“I came like thunder—and like wind I go!”

With them the seed of warfare did I sow,

And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow.

And this is all the Harvest I have reaped:

“I came like thunder—and like wind I go!”

VIIAnd lately from Hell’s Cavern Door rose upA shape Titanic, ravening to supOn Living Human Fodder, and he badeMe give him taste of it; and ’twas—The Krupp.

VII

And lately from Hell’s Cavern Door rose up

A shape Titanic, ravening to sup

On Living Human Fodder, and he bade

Me give him taste of it; and ’twas—The Krupp.

VIIIThe Krupp that can with Logic absoluteThe plans of modern Strategists confuteThe steel iconoclast that in a triceThe strongest Fortress into Dust transmute.

VIII

The Krupp that can with Logic absolute

The plans of modern Strategists confute

The steel iconoclast that in a trice

The strongest Fortress into Dust transmute.

IXThe Krupp no question makes of Aye and No,But strikes alike Cathedral or ChâteauAnd I who send it out into the Field—I know about it all—I know—I know!

The Krupp no question makes of Aye and No,

But strikes alike Cathedral or Château

And I who send it out into the Field—

I know about it all—I know—I know!

XAnd much as War has made an infidelOf me, and robbed me of my honour, wellI often wonder what the Devil hasOne half so devilish as I—In Hell!

And much as War has made an infidel

Of me, and robbed me of my honour, well

I often wonder what the Devil has

One half so devilish as I—In Hell!

XIAh, butmyinnovations people sayPlaced war upon a sounder basis? Nay,’Twas only striking from War’s lexiconThe termsTRUTH, HONOUR, DECENCY, FAIR PLAY.

Ah, butmyinnovations people say

Placed war upon a sounder basis? Nay,

’Twas only striking from War’s lexicon

The termsTRUTH, HONOUR, DECENCY, FAIR PLAY.

XIIThe Treaties that I set my seal uponAre turned to dust and ashes, which anonLike snowflakes falling in a muddy streetLighting a little hour or two are gone.

XII

The Treaties that I set my seal upon

Are turned to dust and ashes, which anon

Like snowflakes falling in a muddy street

Lighting a little hour or two are gone.

XIIIWhat if my sword can fling the Sheath asideAnd naked plunge into the crimson tide,Were’t not a shame, were’t not a shame for me,By a “mere scrap of paper” to abide?

XIII

What if my sword can fling the Sheath aside

And naked plunge into the crimson tide,

Were’t not a shame, were’t not a shame for me,

By a “mere scrap of paper” to abide?

XIVIndeed, indeed, continually I sworeFor Peace—but was I solemn when I swore?And then—then came the Day and sword in handMy threadbare piety apieces tore.

XIV

Indeed, indeed, continually I swore

For Peace—but was I solemn when I swore?

And then—then came the Day and sword in hand

My threadbare piety apieces tore.

XVFrom Europe’s centre, through the Belgian gateI rode and at the Door of Paris sate.And many a city ravished by the road,But Paris—she is still immaculate.

From Europe’s centre, through the Belgian gate

I rode and at the Door of Paris sate.

And many a city ravished by the road,

But Paris—she is still immaculate.

XVIHere was the Gate to which I found no key;Here was the Wall o’er which I might not see.Some little talk awhile of strategyThere was, and then—good afternoon, Paree!

XVI

Here was the Gate to which I found no key;

Here was the Wall o’er which I might not see.

Some little talk awhile of strategy

There was, and then—good afternoon, Paree!

WAR RELIEF

“Can you spare a Threepenny bit,Dear Miss Turkey,” said Sir Mouse,“For Job’s Turkey’s benefit?I’ve engaged the Opera House!”“Alas! I’ve naught to spare!”Said Miss Turkey, “save advice,I am getting up a Fair,To relieve the Poor Church Mice.”

“Can you spare a Threepenny bit,Dear Miss Turkey,” said Sir Mouse,“For Job’s Turkey’s benefit?I’ve engaged the Opera House!”

“Can you spare a Threepenny bit,

Dear Miss Turkey,” said Sir Mouse,

“For Job’s Turkey’s benefit?

I’ve engaged the Opera House!”

“Alas! I’ve naught to spare!”Said Miss Turkey, “save advice,I am getting up a Fair,To relieve the Poor Church Mice.”

“Alas! I’ve naught to spare!”

Said Miss Turkey, “save advice,

I am getting up a Fair,

To relieve the Poor Church Mice.”

In the cloisters of the grass,Lit by buttercups and daisies,Celebrants of summer mass,Little creatures sing their praises.From a myriad throbbing throatsRises up their song of Love,Like a mist of golden motes,To the Golden Throne above.And the good Lord, bending nigh,Quite forgets his house of stoneWhere the frightened sinners cry,And the frowning priests intone,And the saints (if saints they be)Smile and smile in effigy.

In the cloisters of the grass,

Lit by buttercups and daisies,

Celebrants of summer mass,

Little creatures sing their praises.

From a myriad throbbing throats

Rises up their song of Love,

Like a mist of golden motes,

To the Golden Throne above.

And the good Lord, bending nigh,

Quite forgets his house of stone

Where the frightened sinners cry,

And the frowning priests intone,

And the saints (if saints they be)

Smile and smile in effigy.

ABOUT PEOPLE I HAVE MET

A Round Robin from His Humble and Devoted Servants the Alphabet

The Lord forgiveif we transgressThus to familiarly addressOne of our betters.But, Jamie, do you no recallThe slate whereon you learned to scrawlYour Humble Letters?Well we remember how you drewOur shapely features all askew,Unflattering really.You made A lame and B too fat.And C too curly—what of that!We loved you dearly.From that first day we owned your spell.And just because you used us wellWe served you blindly.Why, even when you put us throughA fearsome Scottish reel, we knewYou meant it kindly.Jamie, ’tis said Grand Tales there beStill biding in the A B C—If this be true,Quick, Jamie! Cast your golden net.Maybe we have the grandest yetIn store for you.

The Lord forgiveif we transgressThus to familiarly addressOne of our betters.But, Jamie, do you no recallThe slate whereon you learned to scrawlYour Humble Letters?

The Lord forgiveif we transgress

Thus to familiarly address

One of our betters.

But, Jamie, do you no recall

The slate whereon you learned to scrawl

Your Humble Letters?

Well we remember how you drewOur shapely features all askew,Unflattering really.You made A lame and B too fat.And C too curly—what of that!We loved you dearly.

Well we remember how you drew

Our shapely features all askew,

Unflattering really.

You made A lame and B too fat.

And C too curly—what of that!

We loved you dearly.

From that first day we owned your spell.And just because you used us wellWe served you blindly.Why, even when you put us throughA fearsome Scottish reel, we knewYou meant it kindly.

From that first day we owned your spell.

And just because you used us well

We served you blindly.

Why, even when you put us through

A fearsome Scottish reel, we knew

You meant it kindly.

Jamie, ’tis said Grand Tales there beStill biding in the A B C—If this be true,Quick, Jamie! Cast your golden net.Maybe we have the grandest yetIn store for you.

Jamie, ’tis said Grand Tales there be

Still biding in the A B C—

If this be true,

Quick, Jamie! Cast your golden net.

Maybe we have the grandest yet

In store for you.

The Horse, I don’t mind telling you,Is not an easy thing to do.With Cats and Lions, I confess,I’ve had a measure of success;Likewise with Camels, Mice and SnailsAnd Frogs and Butterflies and Whales.Eels and Rhinoc’ruses and AntsAnd Porcupines and ElephantsAnd Bees and Yaks and Owls. But whenI try to draw a Horse, my penSputters and scares the high-strung steed,Who gallops off at such a speedYou have to take the beast on trust—You can not see him for the dust.

The Horse, I don’t mind telling you,

Is not an easy thing to do.

With Cats and Lions, I confess,

I’ve had a measure of success;

Likewise with Camels, Mice and Snails

And Frogs and Butterflies and Whales.

Eels and Rhinoc’ruses and Ants

And Porcupines and Elephants

And Bees and Yaks and Owls. But when

I try to draw a Horse, my pen

Sputters and scares the high-strung steed,

Who gallops off at such a speed

You have to take the beast on trust—

You can not see him for the dust.

The melancholy days are come,The saddest of the year;Of houses closed and doorbells dumbAnd windows dark and drear.

The melancholy days are come,

The saddest of the year;

Of houses closed and doorbells dumb

And windows dark and drear.

Now Dives to his country seatHas hied himself away,And Tabby turned into the streetMust shift as best she may.No more the cushion soft as silk,The catnip ball no more;No more the saucer full of milkBehind the pantry door.Nor shall she in the temple preyUpon the lean church mouse;The good Lord, too, has gone awayAnd closed his city house.

Now Dives to his country seatHas hied himself away,And Tabby turned into the streetMust shift as best she may.

Now Dives to his country seat

Has hied himself away,

And Tabby turned into the street

Must shift as best she may.

No more the cushion soft as silk,The catnip ball no more;No more the saucer full of milkBehind the pantry door.

No more the cushion soft as silk,

The catnip ball no more;

No more the saucer full of milk

Behind the pantry door.

Nor shall she in the temple preyUpon the lean church mouse;The good Lord, too, has gone awayAnd closed his city house.

Nor shall she in the temple prey

Upon the lean church mouse;

The good Lord, too, has gone away

And closed his city house.

When Dives hies him back once moreTo his town house, oh, shame!Tabby will greet him at the door,But not—no, not the same.

When Dives hies him back once more

To his town house, oh, shame!

Tabby will greet him at the door,

But not—no, not the same.

My hair hangs down on either sideLike a Niagara small.Why is it this, my greatest pride,Should bring about my fall?

My hair hangs down on either side

Like a Niagara small.

Why is it this, my greatest pride,

Should bring about my fall?

Why is it that my well brushed hair,That now so smoothly lies,As soon as I descend the stairAlwaysgets in my eyes?No wonder, thus deprived of sight,I step on empty airAnd to the bottom of the flightRebound from stair to stair.I’m not the sort of dog that caresTo make a fuss when hit;But falling down a flight of stairsIs not the worst of it.

Why is it that my well brushed hair,That now so smoothly lies,As soon as I descend the stairAlwaysgets in my eyes?

Why is it that my well brushed hair,

That now so smoothly lies,

As soon as I descend the stair

Alwaysgets in my eyes?

No wonder, thus deprived of sight,I step on empty airAnd to the bottom of the flightRebound from stair to stair.

No wonder, thus deprived of sight,

I step on empty air

And to the bottom of the flight

Rebound from stair to stair.

I’m not the sort of dog that caresTo make a fuss when hit;But falling down a flight of stairsIs not the worst of it.

I’m not the sort of dog that cares

To make a fuss when hit;

But falling down a flight of stairs

Is not the worst of it.

As there I lie completely outOf breath and very flat,Why is italwayssome one stoutThat takes me for a mat?

As there I lie completely out

Of breath and very flat,

Why is italwayssome one stout

That takes me for a mat?

In Autumn, when the leaves are dead,They take us from our Oyster-bed,And all the winter long they keepUs up, without a wink of sleep—

In Autumn, when the leaves are dead,

They take us from our Oyster-bed,

And all the winter long they keep

Us up, without a wink of sleep—

And doesn’t it seem hard to youWhen Spring is here, and skies are blue,And we should like so much to stay,We have to be in bed byMay?

And doesn’t it seem hard to you

When Spring is here, and skies are blue,

And we should like so much to stay,

We have to be in bed byMay?

A Study in Egotisms

Scene: A drawing-room.Persons: Clarissa, the Mouse, Purrline.

Clarissa: Help! Help! A Mouse!

Mouse:Don’t be alarmed!I’mhere!I hurried when I heard you scream—

Clarissa:Oh, dear!If it jumps up at me I shall expire!

Mouse: If I may be permitted to enquire,Why are you standing there in such a fright,Upon a chair, clutching your frock so tightAbout your—

Clarissa:Help! Oh dear! I wonder whatThat girl’s about! Good heavens! I forgotIt’s Jane’s day out. There’s no one in the houseBut me—

Mouse:Fair lady! I am but a Mouse,A simple Mouse, but underneath this furThere beats a heart whose motto isSans Purr.To see a lovely female in distressRouses in me the spirit ofNoblesse.To her protection instantly I fly.No commonMus Domesticusam I!You may have heard—

Clarissa:If only Jane were here!WhatshallI do?

Mouse:Dear lady, have no fear!As I was saying, doubtless you’ve heard tellHow once a Mountain bore a Mouse-child. Well,Iwas that Child! Or rather, to be moreStrictly veracious, ’twas my Ancestor;And sometimes when I dream of deeds TitanicI think that Mountain must have been Volcanic!So have no fear! If any one should dareMolest you, I am here beneath your chair,Ready to spring—

Clarissa:Mercy! I wonder whyIt squeaks like that! It’s crazy! I shall dieIf it—

Mouse:Sweet lady! Though I cannot guessFrom your queer speech the cause of your distress,Your voice, quite meaningless to my Mouse ear,Is strangely sweet and musical and clear;And, though they violate our beauty-laws,I never saw such shapely hinder pawsAs yours, so smooth and beautiful to see,So silky white, like sticks of celery.Upon each side a tender sprig of gold—Gold as pure Cheese, and toothsome to behold—Climbs up and up! ’Tis called, so I am toldBy Mice more versed in lady-lore, a Clock.Once, it is said, a Mouse named Dickery DockRan up the—

Clarissa:Ouch!!!

Mouse:I wonder if I dare!Only the brave deserve—

Clarissa:O Lord! This chairIs giving way! If it should break!—What’s that?It’s Purrline’s mew! Here, Puss! Puss!—

Mouse:What? The Cat!I’dloveto meet him! But it’s getting late.My wife’s expecting me. I musn’t wait!

(Exit)

Purrline: Me-ouw!

Clarissa:And is thatallyou’ve got to say?Did you expect the Mouse to wait all day?For allyoucare, I might have died of fright!My! But I’m glad it got away all right!

CURTAIN

PEOPLE I HAVE NOT MET

I never wasted any loveOn turtles, but the turtle-doveIs quite another thing;When I have nothing else to do,I love to hear them bill and cooWhile mating in the spring.

I never wasted any love

On turtles, but the turtle-dove

Is quite another thing;

When I have nothing else to do,

I love to hear them bill and coo

While mating in the spring.

There’s something in their plaintive noteThat brings a lump into my throatAnd makes my pulses stir;Something between asmothered snoreAnd the shrill creaking of a door,That soothes me, as it were.

There’s something in their plaintive note

That brings a lump into my throat

And makes my pulses stir;

Something between asmothered snore

And the shrill creaking of a door,

That soothes me, as it were.

How strange is Nature’s alchemy,To think that living in the seaShould change a creature so!The turtle of the finny kindThat swims the sea, is to my mindThe lowest of the low.

How strange is Nature’s alchemy,

To think that living in the sea

Should change a creature so!

The turtle of the finny kind

That swims the sea, is to my mind

The lowest of the low.

And yet, O inconsistency!Although the turtle is to meA most obnoxious beast,When on a menu card I spy“Green Turtle, Soup,” though it comes high,I take two plates at least!

And yet, O inconsistency!

Although the turtle is to me

A most obnoxious beast,

When on a menu card I spy

“Green Turtle, Soup,” though it comes high,

I take two plates at least!

When forming one of a storming party which advanced against an enemy’s barricade, O’Leary rushed to the front and himself killed five Germans who were holding the first barricade, after which he attacked the second barricade, about sixty yards further on, which he captured after killing three of the enemy and making prisoners of two more.

You may talk of the Rebels of UlsterAnd the shindy we had to chuck;But we don’t give a rap for a family scrapWhin the Prooshuns is running amuck.Did you hear how Lance Corporal O’Leary,Mike O’Leary of the Guards,Wid his own two mits, tore a forthress to bitsLike a blissed conthraption of cards.He’d a shmile, had Mike, that ’ud span a dyke,And a fist that ’ud fell a horse,And he ripped through the mire of blood and barbed wire,Like a bull through a bunch of gorse.

You may talk of the Rebels of UlsterAnd the shindy we had to chuck;But we don’t give a rap for a family scrapWhin the Prooshuns is running amuck.

You may talk of the Rebels of Ulster

And the shindy we had to chuck;

But we don’t give a rap for a family scrap

Whin the Prooshuns is running amuck.

Did you hear how Lance Corporal O’Leary,Mike O’Leary of the Guards,Wid his own two mits, tore a forthress to bitsLike a blissed conthraption of cards.

Did you hear how Lance Corporal O’Leary,

Mike O’Leary of the Guards,

Wid his own two mits, tore a forthress to bits

Like a blissed conthraption of cards.

He’d a shmile, had Mike, that ’ud span a dyke,And a fist that ’ud fell a horse,And he ripped through the mire of blood and barbed wire,Like a bull through a bunch of gorse.

He’d a shmile, had Mike, that ’ud span a dyke,

And a fist that ’ud fell a horse,

And he ripped through the mire of blood and barbed wire,

Like a bull through a bunch of gorse.

Whin he waded in, sure ’twas a sin,The way that he bashed and bruk ’em;He dropped on thim Huns like forty tons,And they niver knew what had struck ’em.“Poor dears,” says Mike, “I’m thinking belikeAll the news they’ve been told is lies,So it’s up to me, ’ere it’s kilt they be,To put the poor divils wise.“Thim Huns, I’m told, while outrageous boldIs over a trifle dull.Sure, if that’s a fact, ’tis a friendly actTo hammer it through their skull.“So here’s for insulting old Erin,By thinking a thraitor she’d be!And here’s for your Imperor sneerin’!‘Contemptible army,’ says he.“Here’s one for the mothers whose pleadin’You stopped with a shot and a curse,And one for the girls dead and bleedin’And the girls that you spared—for worse.“For the churches you shelled and the priests you felledHere’s one! And the women, too,You held for a shield on the battle field,And the innocent babes you slew.”Whin O’Leary had done, there was divil a oneLeft to tumble to what he said—Barrin’ only ten, which I’m wrong again,For eight av the ten was dead.

Whin he waded in, sure ’twas a sin,The way that he bashed and bruk ’em;He dropped on thim Huns like forty tons,And they niver knew what had struck ’em.

Whin he waded in, sure ’twas a sin,

The way that he bashed and bruk ’em;

He dropped on thim Huns like forty tons,

And they niver knew what had struck ’em.

“Poor dears,” says Mike, “I’m thinking belikeAll the news they’ve been told is lies,So it’s up to me, ’ere it’s kilt they be,To put the poor divils wise.

“Poor dears,” says Mike, “I’m thinking belike

All the news they’ve been told is lies,

So it’s up to me, ’ere it’s kilt they be,

To put the poor divils wise.

“Thim Huns, I’m told, while outrageous boldIs over a trifle dull.Sure, if that’s a fact, ’tis a friendly actTo hammer it through their skull.

“Thim Huns, I’m told, while outrageous bold

Is over a trifle dull.

Sure, if that’s a fact, ’tis a friendly act

To hammer it through their skull.

“So here’s for insulting old Erin,By thinking a thraitor she’d be!And here’s for your Imperor sneerin’!‘Contemptible army,’ says he.

“So here’s for insulting old Erin,

By thinking a thraitor she’d be!

And here’s for your Imperor sneerin’!

‘Contemptible army,’ says he.

“Here’s one for the mothers whose pleadin’You stopped with a shot and a curse,And one for the girls dead and bleedin’And the girls that you spared—for worse.

“Here’s one for the mothers whose pleadin’

You stopped with a shot and a curse,

And one for the girls dead and bleedin’

And the girls that you spared—for worse.

“For the churches you shelled and the priests you felledHere’s one! And the women, too,You held for a shield on the battle field,And the innocent babes you slew.”

“For the churches you shelled and the priests you felled

Here’s one! And the women, too,

You held for a shield on the battle field,

And the innocent babes you slew.”

Whin O’Leary had done, there was divil a oneLeft to tumble to what he said—Barrin’ only ten, which I’m wrong again,For eight av the ten was dead.

Whin O’Leary had done, there was divil a one

Left to tumble to what he said—

Barrin’ only ten, which I’m wrong again,

For eight av the ten was dead.

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