PS m W iiil SoliccSBHH BIS nh; MfflHHUf W& il 1 1 \lm \ 1 n 1 11 8i!c( !} } (\ iU in i y*/ mmlMmn 'iKWf 1 ■Mii 1 1 m m- 'S .'.* ill ^»?t!iSNS!t■>!<>:ii>5^:>:^>l•:<^;K^^;'^;'iKrlS!^Sl;?i!^>^^i>:•^[>^XK^;K?;^l>K^;';>;!^r^ GopyiightN^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. RICHARD GRIFFIN THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD AND OTHER POEMS BY RICHARD GRIFFIN PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR Copyright, 1916 BY RICHARD GRIFFIN JUL -7 1916 CI.A431766 THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD Put on your thinking cap, Scorn your notched ear lobe. Go run another lap^ — What a botched queer globe ! Get out your rifle, Mike, Slide in a cartridge. Go to the Devil's Dike, Bring down a partridge. Sweep off the Persian rugs. Shake out the buggy bugs, Buy up the bunch of jugs, Pull out their wooden plugs. Slip down from Salway Frith, Come into Galway with Me. Climb the Hill of Tara. Where the great Mike O'Hara During a frightful blizzard Cut out the lobster's gizzard, (Or tried to do it.) How he did rue it ! Michael, be steadfast, sure, Dont wear a mask. Do take the Keely cure, Stick to your task. 3 THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD Think of that mighty Wizard. Don't mind your trouble, Think of the lobster's gizzard, Blow out your bubble. Michael was thinking hard Deep in the thicket, Kinking the sHnking card Close to the wicket. Suddenly — listen — hist, What makes that clinking? Why does he clinch his fist, What means this bhnking? Everything leading to Oh, such a dreadful stress, Something all pleading, new. Fresh to my rim rams, yes. Enter the lizard. Now comes the Wizard, Now for the wonderful Seer. He appears Spouting his thunderful Voice at Mike's ears. Saying '' Great Michael Don't be a Flunky Compass the cycle All hunky dunky. Never expect good luck 'Til from the core you pluck One bleeding gizzard pop Forth from the lobster's crop. THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD Hurriedly hobble it. Rapidly gobble it. Always remember me, Get out your sling. Study the apple tree Late in the spring. When plunk upon the trunk You see your lizard, Look sharp, there is your hunk, Ominous gizzard ! Up in the apple tree There waits your lobster. Farewell and think of me Don't fail your Slobster. Thus spoke the thunderful Voice from the cycle, Oh, what a wonderful Fortune, dear Michael. Oh, what a fearful creak Let the Earth shock. Sneak off, thou Wizard sneak Into thy rock. Michael is left alone Scratching his chin all soup. Rubbing his funny bone, Don't be a Nincompoop. Mike, yank some other prize, Heed not the Wizard. Take my advice, be wise, Avoid the lizard. 6 THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD Quick! run another mile Out of the wreck, Come in and have a smile, Do wash your neck, Anything, anything, Only be cheerful. Don't hail the Ding Ding Wagon so fearful. Mike rubs his funny bone. Prowling about alone, Searching from tree to tree. Now comes the blizzard, Michael all eager, he Looks for the gizzard. Michael, the great O'LIara, Climbing the Hill of Tara, Where the Harp famous once Twang. Now this foolish dunce. Trusting the wicked Wizard, Looks for the lobster's gizzard. Wind, snow and blinding hail Pour down the mountain dale. Oh, what a dreadful gale Slaps Michael with its flail. Weak kippered Jackass, Looking for boodle, This withered slack ass. Noodle and poodle Falls in the trap. Hell's own flip flap. THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD Death chops the door Sneaking all hidden. Hell shows its claw Grim and forbidden. What means this thud Sickening, harsh? Mike in the mud Deep in the marsh, Troubled with cramps Sinks to his lamps. Poor Mike Can't hike. He splutters and chokes, He curses the hoax. Forgetting the Hzard He curses the Wizard. Oh, vile phantom gizzard ! Fierce raging the blizzard Stirs up the thick mud Around with a thud. Mike over his head On nothing doth tread. The Devil, his keeper. Now pokes him down deeper In filthy black mush His mouth full of slush. 8 THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD Mike, covered entire, Is deep in the mire. And still the Hfe lingers. The struggling fingers Rise out of the slush. But now look — hush, hush ! Mike splutters for breath And now — welcome Death! The fingers stop wiggling, No desperate wriggling. Now — ^now beyond doubt The Fiend has won out. The King of the blizzard Triumphant — the Wizard Now laughs at the lizard. That fake lobster's gizzard Comes in for its joke. Oh, why did Mike choke. Oh, why did he croak. Unfortunate Bloke ! Oh why did he croak Poor Bloke, oh Poor Bloke! CUT OUT THE LOBSTER'S GIZZARD WHERE IS THE JAIL? The maiden lies upon the couch wrapped in a troubled sleep. The day is drawing to a close, the shadows darkly creep In wavy weird fantastic form. May her good Angel keep Evil away, come let us pray with fervency deep. Gentle Elvina, breathing hard, began to whisper low. Clasping both hands about her head she shook it to and fro. Sobbing aloud these broken words '^ Please, Judge, do let him go." " Heaven I do beseech thee, please, I ask on bended knee. Grant me this request, dear Lord, and send him back to me, I'll penance say both night and day, but only set him free." Soon from the casement came a shout up from the busy street. The fresh young bo3dsh voice arose above the falling sleet. " Last edition, buy my paper, all the news complete." 9 10 WHERE IS THE JAH. The little girl despairing gasps. She learns the truth full soon. Found guilty on the second count, the Jury out since noon. Gentle Elvina gave one scream, then sank into a swoon. Unconsciousness, most charitably kind, however brief, Comes to an end. She wakes, she moans, all overcome with grief. Kind friends now try to help the girl but cannot bring relief. For many days all in one maze the brain intense quite dense. Whirls in and out all round about reaching one con- sequence. The pendulum swings forth red wroth all on the anxious fence. What shall we do, poor girl so true, where sails your brain, ah whence? Gentle Elvina keeps her bed. The same heartbroken wail Day after day, " Tell me do pray, where, oh where is the jail. Where have they put my lover, teil me, is he out on bail? See, I am strong enough to walk, oh, take me to the jail." The girl, now wanders on the street, stumbles through wind and hail. Sobbing aloud the same heartbroken, useless, fruitless wail, ^* Kind friends, oh tell — I seek his cell, oh where, where is the jail." WHERE IS THE JAIL? 11 Day after day, month after month, she walks along the street. Oh dire inquire with brain all fire, with weary aching feet — The same old wail, " where is the jail, oh, shall we never meet! " At last she learns the awful truth. Her lover pined away. Despairing in his lonely cell, wearing out. There he lay, Calling on her he loved to come and cast one last bright ray Upon his soul e're muffled roll call to the judgment day. They buried him in the jail yard, along with a bunch of yeggs. Departed chums of the lock step, society's lowest dregs. In a pit of Hme, one puddle of grime, like ill-conditioned eggs. See that crowd on the corner, what are they looking at? Only a bundle of rags, two hands, one face, that's all, just that. To give this picture a classic name, we'll call it " After the bat." They buried her in a pauper's grave, she has no friends to claim — All disclaim the poor Uttle girl. Nobody knows her name. And so they call her *' Number Six," the very last in the game. 12 WHERE IS THE JAIL? Now come with me and we shall see, together we will glance, Into the world beyond. Unfurled, my soul it doth enhance Ten thousand fold what I behold. I see as in a trance. The little girl is happy now, most joyful mystery. The lovers are together and forever they shall be United, no more trouble, no parting, ever free. Love and be loved is theirs, oh blessed bright decree. Comforting two broken hearts, uniting he and she, Songs of praise forevermore throughout eternity. WATER ON THE BRAIN Slobby Peter — what an eater! See him wobble on the cobble. Teeter teeter, see him gobble Fried potatoes in his coffee. Mix it, stir it up all frothy. Yes, his case is very plain, He has water on the brain. What an awful thing it is. That an intellect all fizz Should meander in a maze. Such a parting of the ways! Peter's ways — so very plain. He has water on the brain. Nature now is steeped in bile. The Rocks of ages tremble while the Donkey and its Donkhng brays. Little Bessie broke her stays Frightening the Jenny wren. Hear the cackle of the Hen, Sister of the Rooster. Rays From the solar magnet flays Burning red forth from the sky. Let us drink some rock and rye. Even the poor Turkey gobbler, Beaten by the Devil's cobbler Totters, then puts on its brakes Hissing like a brace of snakes. 13 14 WATER ON THE BRAIN See all nature upside down From its heels e'en to the crown. Insect, quadruped and biped Quite perplexed — some wicked Spy said, — But no matter what that Guy said. 'Tis one fabricated lie, said To divert us from that plain Ailment — water on the brain. See the Booby rub his glasses, As he pours the thick molasses On the slice of sirloin steak. What a wrinkle, what a fake! Will his intellect awake? That's all right, his mind opaque, Feels its way through paths dark, devious, — Same old trouble written previous. Doctor's treatment all in vain! He has water on the brain. Silly Tilly has a pain. In her cranium no grain — Common sense departed — zip! See that glass of sherry flip, Rehc of those evil deeds. All her belfry full of weeds Sticking out in nasty shape, But too late, they can't escape. Tilly has an ugly mug, Down her face one claw she dug. Sherry flip and whisky plain Gave her water on the brain. WATER ON THE BRAIN 15 Ikie Ikeson runs a Hock Shop where needy people flock, Where the handsome well-clad thug Gliding in so nice and smug, There presents the small gold watch. Goodness Heaven! what a botch, What a bungle nature gave To the World. This sneaking knave Hurries to Saint Martin's Lane, Pawns his sister's watch and chain. Yes, the symptoms all are plain. He has water on the brain. When the Ding Ding wagon drives Through the gate, as it arrives, See those eyes as bright as stars Flashing through the iron bars Looking for the buggy bus Ever ringing, what a fuss ! Fresh fish, more bugs, dandy haul! Mary welcomes one and all. She — poor Trusty, tends the door. Washes dishes, scrubs the floor. Churns the butter in the buttery Of the captivating Nuttery, Does all work about the dairy And her name is crazy Mary. Everything against her grain. She has water on the brain. Now we have another hero. All gray matter is at zero. 16 WATER ON THE BRAIN James, the Watchman, has the cramp. Yes — he is a Kstless swain. There — he overturns the lamp. He has water on the brain. See him choke, the careless Bloke. What a bursting, what a smoke. Angry flames soon claim their own. Hear the crackle, hear the groan Rising from each buggy lung, While the fire, rung on rung Rises to the topmost floor. See each Inmate scratch and claw On his comrade's jaw. Howl, howl ! Curses, imprecations foul Mingle with that dreadful smell — Roasting flesh. Oh, what a yell. Hear that yell — now softer, quiet — Hear the echo answer " fry it, Get the hose, quick, quick — now ply it." But that other water — dry it. Squeeze it, ease it from all pain. Dry the water on the brain. See, the Bug House is a ruin. All its Inmates now are due in Paradise, or else 'tis — where? Climbing down the sooty stair To that pool of racking pain, Boiling water on the brain. WATER ON THE BRAIN 17 See the carcases all charred, Filling up the Bug House yard, Twisted into many shapes Like huge worms, those made like tapes Of all sizes, big and little, Crisp and brown, both soft and brittle, But quite free from Earthly pain. No more water on the brain. THE WOMAN WITHOUT ANY EARS The Empress of beauty don't slice Her ears like some tiny bull pup. She hides them away — so precise. She carefully covers them up: Then orders the sparkling cup. For a sup. The brindle cow chews at the cud; She has two long beautiful ears. The piggie pig revels in mud — All ears. No deformity queers The heifer and little brown steers : They have ears. Last week as I rode in the trolley, I could not control the hot tears. I sighted that Dolly so jolly, The woman without any ears. Oh what has become of her ears All these years? She parted her hair in the middle. Then looped it in two drooping gears, Arranged it down low — quite aquiddle. Brave woman without any fears: The woman who hides both her ears Many years. 18 THE WOMAN WITHOUT ANY EARS 19 Oh, why should there be such a custom, Why steer your ear under the waves? You might as well dive in and bust 'em As bow to all novelty craves. Don't swallow the twaddle it craves Digging graves. You meet them wherever you wander. Oh my — see that freak that appears At th' head of the stairs over yonder, The creature with rickety gears. The woman without any ears, Now appears. She thinks she is quite a neat model. She blinks, then turns white as she hears Sweet prattle — The babe that can't toddle Lisps, " Mother mine, where are her ears. That woman without any ears. Oh these tears!" We call her the woman without any Ears. She sheds oceans of tears. The starter of fashion sinned when he Decreed that all girls hide their ears. Yes, girls, hurry up, hide your ears, Quick, my dears. The first in the dandy caboodle The woman without any ears. Yes, sure — a neat model — no noodle. Her hearing the hairy rat queers, As into the market she steers Without fears. 20 THE WOMAN WITHOUT ANY EARS The lady that flops down her rats Is far from a donkey — no noddle She certainly laces her slats. They call her the high-stepping coddle. Yes, really an extra neat model, All toddle. My dear, hide your ear, it's a duty. Just set up your smiles and your wiers. Pure type of American beauty (One charming neat model, my dears) . The woman without any ears Rightly steers. Don't sag — follow suit with each wrinkle. Trot up and don't fall in arrears. Take after the stars — ever twinkle Fair Lady, quite lacking all fears. The woman without any ears. Now three cheers! THE ELM OF NAX * (A Revelation) " The Bottomless pit Yawns ever forever. The blasphemous wit Of th' Blacksmith can never Extract from the pit The damned lost forever." I entered the valley, Felt nil, truly ill. ('Twas no time to dally.) I tried hard to still My heart. I choked— bally! I swallowed the pill. Look, see the sharp ax Swing out as it cracks The Ehn called Nax. The Angel of light Glided through the dark chasm. Then wended its flight To th' cave choked with wassima. The twilight though slight, Brought on a fierce spasm. * This famous tree is spelled either Nax or Nacks. I use both ways. — The Author. 21 22 THE ELM OF NAX The bright Angel feels A sort of a flickety Shock through the heels. Wheels scrape a clickety Knock. See the keels Decidedly rickety. The bright Angel cracks To slivers the branch Of th' Ehn called Nacks. 'Tis on my own ranch. My classic lip smacks Saying, " Dicky, be stanch." " Dear Angel, oh pray, Please tell me, oh do, The Pilgrim dead, say — The souls of those few- Friends dead— oh allay My sad fears, some clue. What are they doing? Hear that cat mewing. Sprite of the air. How do they fare? " The Angel spoke brightly. Extending one wing Which drew his robe tightly. Commencing to sing. He yodels quite sprightly And flings out his sling. Then grabs my ear lightly, Oh, oh, what a sting ! THE ELM OF NAX 23 My hearing not queering, I turn very pale. Though all of my gearing In order, I quail. My weedy brain clearing, I hear a sad tale. The Revelation '^ The Clergyman, base, Alas he doth dwell In a very hot place, No salubrious dell. Black sin doth deface The region called Hell." Again the sharp ax Swings out as it cracks The Elm of Nax. " The Clergyman's wife. With eyes meekly down, (No trouble, no strife). Receives the white gown, Pure water of life. Immortal bright crown. " Now what shall we say, That Pilgrim thought holy — Oh dread judgment day ! Apparently lowly, Now deep in hot clay. That place most unholy. 24 THE ELM OF NAX " The boss Hobo he, Dense Jackass, lame soul; After many a spree Now steeps in the bowl. Accepts the decree And pays the last toll By shoveHng coal. " Poor Stranger, befuddled. Not fit to be seen. Dimifounded, quite muddled. Wrapped up in a sheen Of fire all cuddled In Fiddler's green." Again the sharp ax Swings out as it cracks The Ehn of Nax. " The black oven door — Just open it — well, One girl, nothing more In th' fiery cell. She screams evermore. Poor girHe in Hell. " The girHe, proud boasting, Once walked through the street To sin. What a toasting! Fierce punishment meet. The fire is roasting The soles of her feet. THE ELM OF NAX 25 " Poor little Chippy, Barefoot and dippy, Begging for stockings. While fiendish mockings Are shockings, that yelll Poor girlie in Hell, 'Midst fiendish mockings, Begging for stockings. *' We cannot defend her. Oh judgment most dire ! No, nothing can render Rehef from the briar. The soles of her tender Bare feet all on fire. Hot flaming blister. Such fearful mockings! Frail Httle Sister Begging for stockings." The Elm is twisted. The Fiend is enlisted 'Gainst Heaven collided, And all is decided. All business is lax No more the ax cracks The Ehn of Nax. The Angel chews tacks. Black Hell Reaper quiver Keep twisting and turning, While broiling yet shiver. All sizzling, churning 26 THE ELM OF NAX Th' flowing hot river Both freezing and burning, Anarchy hurling Th' torch, see it curling. Burning, no respite, no never, Burning forever and ever. The Angel of light Now swallows the tacks, Quite eager for flight. He gathers the flax All glistening bright And rubs it with wax, In the shade of the Nax, On the banks of the Sax Fair river. Pax, Pax! The cute foxy Sprite, Now wove the flax tight In shape of a boat. He sails through the night. Away he doth float By th' silvery light Of th' moon. See him gloat. Caressing his ax. Saying, " Pax, brother. Pax." The sprite sings a song In praise of the ax. The boat skips along, That boat made of flax, THE ELM OF NAX 27 Far out on the sea Where the sun ever beams, To th' island so free The Bun Land of Dreams. The Arch Angel, he Fair neat model cod Far out in the sea Now carries the hod Of platiniun bright, In fair land of Nod. Most wonderful tree Of Nacks, bend the knee And worship the ax, " Oh Pax, brother, Pax." NOTIONAL NIMROD Notional Nimrod is steering On through the current of trouble. See how the Demon is leering, Casting the spell on his double. Holding his grip on the bubble. Nimrod could never help stealing, Everything good within sight. E'en while approaching that speeling, Encroaching, unfeeling, dread sprite, Who governs the darkening night. Nimrod was once a pickpocket, Up in fair Ossining's book. When near a till he would knock it, SHp out the money, sly Hook. Really — one fine, clever Crook. Nimrod felt sure of his salary. Treated the bunch at the bar. First in the famous Rogues' gallery, Who cares? He drives his own car. Notional Nimrod is drunk, Nimrod is caught in the bracket. Fate says, " Oh, nixie all junk! Here is your jacket, quick pack it. Put on the style, cKp the racket." 28 NOTIONAL NIMROD 29 Notional Nimrod once speared Some hen, she'd a voice Kke a rooster, Cut off her head, now 'tis feared The bird cannot crow as she uster. It really is useless to boost her. Notional Nimrod — his days Hurry along to a close. Oh dread accounting — his stays Bursting — we pass — squirt the hose. Wash up and squash up his nose. Oh for one nice honest sinner Carrying squarely the load, Gallant Bank breaker, some winner, One dandy Knight of the Road Ready to jump the high hurdle Up into fame. Crack the girdle. Nimrod the foxy eel stealer, Dealer in bum willow ware. Nimrod the coward and squealer, Guy who would not take a dare, Making his cocoanut flare Bouncing about in the air, Handsfull of hair he doth tear, Shaking the bright golden stair. Nimrod the man with a dirk Bellows and kicks Kke a mare, Nimrod all quirk with a smirk, Gives up his soul to despair, Climbs down the stair, crazy loon, Dancing the Devil's own tune. 30 NOTIONAL NIMROD Nimrod the man with a notion, Got down the bottle of pulp, Shaking up well the vile potion, Drinking it down with one gulp. Soon the great Nimrod felt groggy — Leaping about on one knee — See the big mind fluster foggy, All the gray matter at sea. Nimrod is reeling all cloggy, Crazy as crazy can be. Soon his friends bring eggie noggie. Making one last final plea. Trying to turn back his fate, Useless! Alas 'tis too late. All the egg nog in the punch bowl Can't oil the poor Buffer slick. All the rare munch in the crunch roll Never can make Nimrod kick Changing the dead to the quick. My ! what a pretty gazelle Leaping about in the churchyard. Wandering Demons now spell Dismal award in the birch guard. There underneath the gray tombstone, Just about three feet or so, Nimrod is safe in the Doom Zone, Fighting the man with a hoe. NOTIONAL NIMROD 31 Poor little Notional Nimrod Withering crisp like old leather Half starving, carving green slim rod, Crushed shaky weed in bad weather. Down in the caves of the ocean Bones of the dead spread about. Hear that harsh frightful commotion, While Father Neptune doth shout, Ordering mermaids to dance. Nixie two legs can they prance? They never heard of poor Nimrod Safe in his own narrow trim pod. Epitaph Oh! Fairy soap, oh! Fairy soap. You cannot hope the least to cope With sin, or polish off the stain Nor bring relief to any pain. Under the sod Notional Rod Nimrod poor clod In his green pod — Say — does he fry? I don't know, why, Do You? THE PINK TEA They held a pink tea at the Rink. The Gink had a kink in his bHnk. He took a pink drink — hear the clink Of his glass. As he gulps see him wink. Hank pays for the drink. Hear the chink Of the tin in his purse. See the link — Pink link as it squelches the Gink, And pushes him over the brink. The grasshopper foolishly hops, And lands in the bucket of slops. 'Tis better by far to be frank. Tea drinking we all know is rank. The Devil himself keeps the bank. Just listen — that horrible clank Of the chain on the leg of the Crank. Poor Hank so lank turns on his plank In the cell, 'tis his bed — down he sank, His teeth gnashing, weeping — ^poor Hank. Ohl look at that bright yellow spider. The lady bug tries hard to ride her. They both spin around Hke mad tops, Then fall in the bucket of slops. Dear Hank, please agree drinking tea Is worse than tobacco for thee. 32 THE PINK TEA 33 Poor Hank, how he slank — all we see Are cobwebs high up in his tree. Too much drinking tea. The decree, You see — Foolish Hank — bugs! Oh gee! The Bug House, my dear friend, keep shy of. Be certain you don't make a guy of Yourself. Too much tea makes a sty of Poor Ginks Hke old Hank. There's no why of Nor wherefore. Alas ! too much pink Tea landed poor Hank like a mink In the buggy clap trap, with one slap. Poor Hank, fooKsh Crank, Oh poor Yap. The tube — how the mercury drops To zero. The lady bug flops. The spider kicks once and then pops Down deep in the bucket of slops. The Pink Tea continues to rob All boobs who are on to the job. Avoid all pink tea, be a slob If you Hke, but don't howl — never sob Over what can't be helped, don't be loose. No — don't be one Jack scrambled goose, Or worse, an ambiguous flounder, Be one dandy all about Rounder. The spider desparingly hops. The lady bug languidly mops. Deserted, without any props, Both die in the bucket of slops. 34 THE PINK TEA Next week there will be a fandango, And after the spree one plain tango. We'll finish with one Foxy Fox, And then we'll adjourn to the rocks, The cHff that o'er hangs the dark river. With neither a shake nor cold shiver. We'll top off the vixenish revel. Oh yes, we will jump to the Devil. And after the spree, surely we, Will never more call for pink tea. The spider and lady bug soak To death. When at last they awoke They never drank any pink tea In bugs' Paradise, we'll agree. Such stuff don't pan out with their chops Down deep in the bucket of slops. Yes, in the bugs' Heaven, now we Feel certain they never drink tea. THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER In Wilmington City there lives an official, His art is all thumps, on the touch He fondles with leather. His hinder initial, The third in the alphabet. Such A wonderful Licker, Round-shouldered Big Sticker, Nix bicker, no kicker, not much. Lively Andrew Once a plan drew, Of a bank around the corner. Someone blabbed, He was nabbed. I am sure he feels forlorner Than two superannuated Pair of candlesticks, ill mated. What can he do? Trouble doth brew Fast for you, But don't stew. He's now introduced to. Is properly noosed to, Th' jost, that dark post called black Susan. Andrew, don't fret Cancel your debt. Howl away, squirm, pay your dues an Ah ! thank the Spanker all zeal. 35 36 THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER Th' round-shouldered Spanker whose speel Is swinging the strap, And making it slap, Blistering Slobs while they squeal. Moonlight Charlie Stole some barley; Hear the voice say, " Beat it, beat it, Do it properly, complete it." Thus spoke Peter Patsy Farley, But too late, the Copper socked him, Nabbed him, ran him in and locked him In the Work House near the trolley, Turned him over to the jolly Warden, such a merry Switcher. Every lashing makes him richer. Ten gold dollars he did net; Ten sharp slaps did Charlie get. His conscience only once Troubled this Spanking Dunce. At the meeting of the board, Some one read an ancient clipping. It has struck some tender cord. How it drives the Warden skipping From the room completely awed. Thinking of that painful whipping, When he lashed poor little Mabel. Read the clipping. News by cable. It is rather painful reading. Full of much unwritten pleading. See the little girl all bleeding. THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 37 Little Mabel broke some chalk, We have read of that before. See the Warden tremble, balk. See the quiver of his jaw. Sneak, poor Warden, sneak, reflect. See him shiver, skip out early. He don't like to recollect How he whipped the Uttle girlie. Forcing the poor gentle pet To take off her chemisette. Leaving her fair, Lily white, bare. The soft spoken Licker With iron-gray hair. Is never a kicker. They always declare. The Round-Shouldered Slapper Would rather whip Guys Than plug the strap clapper And eat cherry pies. Like slippery elm He stands at the helm. The Spanker is dapper. Quite neat in attire. His trade is a Sapper That quenches all fire Effect. Yet this Licker Is never a kicker. One regular Clicker, He never would dicker With minor objections. 38 THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER No smooth genuflections, None such. This gentle nose picker Is never a tricker, No, never would bicker Not much ! This legalized Switcher Heaping up cash, Gets richer and richer Swinging the lash. The pride of the Work House, This regular skunk louse. Will soon need a crutch To hold up his figger, While spanking some nigger. You can't beat the Dutch, As such, no not much. The Round- Shouldered Flogger Is never a dogger. He still plies his trade. No shovel or spade Swings out with more zeal — That strap. Oh that squeal, While peal after peal — The chime in the tower Announces the Licker Is working — one sticker — No flicker nor cower, No nothing can sever This man from his whip. THE ROUND-SHOULDERED LICKER 39 Forever and ever The Guy gets the clip. The Round- Shouldered Sticker Quite happy don't bicker. No crutch Props th' licker, no kicker, Not much. GUY BARNABAS BONE I LIVE near the Stygian river, Way down in the tropical zone. My name is Guy Barnabas Bone. My principal meal frizzled liver. Come close to the fire, don't shiver. And while we are here quite alone I'll tell you the tale of the Shepherd Poor man, foolish donkey, he jeopard — — ized life by the seed he had sown, The bite of the vinegerone. Last Friday I heard a queer cry. And then such a pitiful moan. My stars, 'twas a vinegerone! Most fatal, unfortunate guy! No hope, he would certainly die. I made one dash over the grime. Ran hurriedly through the damp briar. The light from the blazing camp fire Revealing the sad yet sublime Bite that was full of Bug slime. The vinegerone stung the cracker Alphonse, while he lay fast asleep Near th' sheep, oh you luckless Bo Peep. His heel smashed his little attacker. And then he grew blacker and blacker. 40 GUY BARNABAS BONE 41 One struggle. Alphonse doth atone His fault. That implacable stanch man The brawny inflexible Ranch man Now said, " Dig a grave, don't postpone The work of the vinegerone." I dug up the earth all alone, We buried Alphonse that same evening. The Ranchman meanwhile made beheve ring The funeral bell; Heart of stone ! He's worse than the vinegerone. High up on his own Httle throne The vinegerone is a corker, Attends to his duties, no balker. Great Queen of the tropical zone, The wonderful vinegerone. My card please. " Guy Barnabas Bone.'' I live near the Stygian river, My principal food, gophers' liver. I'll sell you a vinegerone (My business), I stand all alone. My name is Guy Barnabas Bone. I've built on my alkaH cone One nice Httle business, by golly! I live by the bugs, oh how jolly! High prices? You bet. All alone, Like Caesar, I wear laurel holly; Unique in this tropical zone. 42 GUY BARNABAS BONE My name is Guy Barnabas Bone. I live by my wit, I'm all luck. Don't fight me, it's useless to buck Against me, my lucky birth stone Is th' eye of a vinegerone. I fodder with beautiful buck — — leberries my lop-sided duck. Come visit my alkali cone. And ask for Guy Barnabas Bone. I'll sell you a vinegerone. THE CORNER OF MY THUMB The multitude is shouting, Oh hear the fife and drum. I lie upon the bed of pain, I feel so very bum I cannot move an inch. Oh dear, I know I shall suc- cumb. The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. The awful night is passing, my thumb is on the bum. The Httle robin singing, while looking for a crumb, Doth gladden my poor rim rams, my heart is overcome. The ministering Angel bringeth a glass of rum. That Angel of the hospital, the kind and gentle nurse, Now slips one hand beneath the pillow, softly grabs my purse, Then quietly she slips away, more favors to disburse Among the sick and dying — how horribly perverse ! I cannot budge, I cannot move one inch, that glass of rum Has paralyzed all faculties, I feel as if a drum Was beating in my brain. I cannot speak, I'm dumb. The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. That woman with the cancer in the gullet, hear her stammer. The gentle nurse, ungentle now, raises the staff to slam her. Why don't they end the case at once and hit her with a hammer. 43 44 THE CORNER OF MY THUMB I do not know what I am writing in this garbled rare Selection. Oh ! the pain it doth my heated brain ensnare Causing contradictions. All qualities forswear Allegiance, now leaving me sick as a spavined bear. My stomach now doth bulge, oh! for one single crumb — That may excite my appetite, oh ! what a buzzing hum ! The Doctor made me take quinine, one ear is almost dumb, The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. The acid poisonous now crawls insidious beneath The gum and circles round, and forms one nasty little wreath. And worse, that sting, that horrid thing, the tartar on the teeth. That fellow in the corner bed was lately amputated. He lost his leg, but does not care, he truly is elated. The artificial Hmb is bright. He is so antiquated He thinks the leg is made of gold, we see it's only plated. But let the fellow smile away, we all know he is fated, Yes, slated in a day or so to take a journey crated. Of all the pains on our earth, rheumatic pains are bum. Leave acid fruit alone, my friend, never indulge in rum. I know what I am writing of, my left ear still is dumb. The uric acid gathers in the corner of my thumb. THE LATTER DAY SAINT True follower of the great Prophet Without any blemish or taint, Quite orthodox, pious, " Great Tophet! " Yes, I am a Latter Day Saint. My mansion is all full of chickens, I love every one of my wives; Of late they have eaten queer pickin's. They scratch — see them scratch, each one strives To out scratch the bunch, they have hives. The first girl I married, sweet Lulu, Oh my ! such a dumpKng, one corker, High stepper, stuck up like a Zulu, But also a nice little porker. Fat Lulu, obedient worker. Affectionate, eager to learn. Neat housewife, was never a shirker. She fried the lamb chops to a turn, And never let anything burn. 'Til one day, by chance, I did learn The dead rat was found in the churn. Yes, after awhile Lulu strangled My love, she became one stale plodder. Her cooking, now rank, she entangled My tonsils with very queer fodder. My poor aching heart bled in sodder. 45 46 THE LATTER DAY SAINT While resting one day in the gutter, I suddenly felt my pulse quicken, That rustle, my heart gave a flutter, I thought it must be a stray chicken. 'Twas certainly something with feathers, Some bird, chicken, angel or drake. Accustomed to all kinds of weathers. All flutters without any brake. I rubbered my neck looking over My shoulder. I thought I'd observe Some species of partridge or plover, And there stood a Cherub all curve. Quite cheeky and all full of nerve. The Cherub with one graceful swish Of feathery wing, drew a knife And said, " Oh you tame ' flying fish ', It's time that you take one more wife. See this knife? On your life time is rife." The Cherub continued, " Oh Elder! The Lord says again you must marry. The Lord sticks the dart, has compelled her To give you her heart, I mean Carrie. So hurry up. Elder, don't parry. Wed Carrie at once, never tarry." Oh rapture, oh foretaste of Heaven! The Cherub now danced me a jig, Two steps to the left and then seven Around to the right like a big Hop Turvy Drop Tumble — the sprig! THE LATTER DAY SAINT 47 The Cherub repeated, " Wed Carrie, The law has decided you must. Two wives must you feed, quickly marry Young Carrie, or else you will bust. Your soul will belong to Old Harry, You never will be upper crust. Hop up, marry Carrie, don't tarry; Or go to the Devil and rust. Two wives (for the present) no trust. " Thy duty, dear Mormon — no taint Should jar thee, nor mar my decision. Be careful, thou Latter Day Saint, 'Tis time to obscure the sweet vision This Elf, yes myself must skedaddle. Pray don't think my words are all twaddle; Farewell, dearest Elder, farewell. Be careful and don't go to Hell." The cherub now vanished through space While I feeling ticklish queer. Made off at a rattling pace. I soon drank a gallon of beer. Delighting my heart with its cheer. I'll never forget the tongue lashing I got when I told my first spouse To get things in order, that dashing, Fair Carrie as meek as a mouse, Would soon be the head of my house. 48 THE LATTER DAY SAINT Fat Lulu said, " Drat the fair Carrie, The mink, wait, I'll give her the rap. What! Carrie, that she wolf — you marry? I'll scratch Carrie quite off the map." Oh Hooky! poor wifie, one struggle — Dear Lulu lay over my lap — Another slight kick — soon I juggle The drapery off — now rap, rap, I paddle her well with a strap. Soon after the spanking her eyes Were gentle, she gave me no sass. It all was a grateful surprise. And now one strange thing came to pass. She kissed me. I gave her a prize. Two earrings of gold (made of brass). She knelt, wept aloud, oh such cries! She said she'd be good (poor jackass) ! I petted her, made her arise. She thanked me, another first class Kiss, there where the beer clings, Alas! So much for those earrings all brass. The cure, though severe, did its work, It sobered her up, smoothing lumps, And then we three went to the Kirk, Myself, Lulu, Carrie — all grumps. All fits of the dumps took to slumps. And when I got home I cut trumps And paddled them over their rumps. They thought me a weakHng, I ain't; But just one plain Latter Day Saint. THE LATTER DAY SAINT 40 I let Carrie know I was boss, I put her at once in her place. I made Carrie work Hke a horse. I found her a very hard case. She wanted to wear velvet coats, Expecting her three meals per day. You can't feed your women on oats. Because if you do they will bray And baulk like a sow, all decay. All this happened long, long ago. Fat Lulu the corker survives, Elastic with health, plastic dough. I'll read you a Hst of my wives. There's Bridget, the Irish canary. Lame Susie I'm always selecting To kick (our old Mother Cary) With such a big flock. I'm erecting The Whipping Post. Let the unwary Beware I There will be much correcting. Oh, thou erring wifie will nary Escape. I spank each naughty fairy. There's pretty Matilda, all dimples, And Emma, the bird from Rhinebeck, And gentle Rosanna, all pimples, And Bess with the boil on her neck. There's Ethelred, coaxing and catching, So artless— the cute Uttle witch. And Isadore, all the time scratching. She seems to be troubled with itch. 50 THE LATTER DAY SAINT Belinda, Lucinda and Molly Are each a fine peach in their way. Cordelia, Ophelia and Polly The same, while Irene is a jay Who often must pay for some folly, Shut up in a closet all day. '^ And as for my numerous offspring — Oh give me a rest, fly a kite. Send out the alarm, ting it off, ring, I don't know my children by sight. Say, give me a drink. Blow it off, sing All praise to the Latter Day Sprite! " My castle is curious, quaint My kingdom as strong as a rock, They call me a beast, but I ain't, I simply look after my flock. I'm only a plum without paint; My wives have to work by the clock. Oh, I am a Latter Day Saint, The pride of the Shrine, I don't crock. Greeting, greeting, Hear that knocking ; Come to meeting. Nothing crocking. Amen. RETROSPECT The wandering Demons assemble, Each gink has a kink in his snoot. Each Imp is a bute on a toot. Terestrials whiff, sniff and tremble. The maiden that can't find the prison Is now in a terrible fix. We'll call it a seven or six. One question of note has arisen — That bell, oh that horrible knell! The bHstering maiden in Hell, She walks on the burning hot tiHng. The heat in the cavern is fierce, The Demon pursues, carte and tierce. The girl flung her fling — oh defiling! Oh poor Httle girhe, poor thing! Poor birdie, poor, poor broken wing. The Fiend is vindictively surly. He stabs with a sharp burning knife. She walked into sin all her life. Oh pity the bHstering girhe ! Poor girhe! We can't speak too highly of Riley, Nor notional Nimrod the peach. Mike certainly is not a leech, All generous — just a bit wily. Kink winkie, he puts on the slugs. ('Tis better to live without bugs.) 51 RETROSPECT The Dong Dinger quite a good fellow, Is zealous when not on the drag, Astride of that steep rocky crag. Quite jaundiced and partially yellow, He is such a wonderful wag. Especially during a jag. Don't gag. And now for that creature all gears. The woman without any ears, She's a classical problem to parse, Is ahnost an optical farce. She sometimes calls forth a few jeers. There's a crack in her tumbledown beak Like a flageolet minus the squeak; Or a mandolin tuned to a fourth, Or a fiddle bow weak in the middle; Or an overdone cake on a griddle, Or a bowlful of underdone broth. All froth. And as for my dandy old chummer The vinegerone — oh my curves ! Alas it is hard on my nerves. I fear I am quite a fierce bummer. So lest you fall down in a fit 'Tis better to be a swift pruner. Now out with it, quick or I split. I treated the old bagpipe tuner — One freakish farewell, yes to wit, The very same way I'll treat you. Dear me I am broke, get the glue. And fix me up just a wee bit. RETROSPECT 53 Step lively about in a jiffy, And then we will enter the pit. So give me yer mit. We now quit As soon as I sign the name, Griffy. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 905 645 4