The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 390 : Love calls me hence; a favorite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady�

Love calls me hence; a favorite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.

To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the Goat is just behind."

The Goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye; "My back," says he, "may do you harm; The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The Sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: Said he was slow, confessed his fears, For hounds eat sheep as well as Hares.

She now the trotting Calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed.

"Shall I," says he, "of tender age, In this important care engage?

Older and abler pa.s.sed you by; How strong are those, how weak am I!

Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence.

Excuse me, then. You know my heart; But dearest friends, alas! must part.

How shall we all lament! Adieu!

For see, the hounds are just in view."

John Gay [1685-1732]

THE SYCOPHANTIC FOX AND THE GULLIBLE RAVEN

A raven sat upon a tree, And not a word he spoke, for His beak contained a piece of Brie, Or, maybe, it was Roquefort?

We'll make it any kind you please-- At all events, it was a cheese.

Beneath the tree's umbrageous limb A hungry fox sat smiling; He saw the raven watching him, And spoke in words beguiling: "J'admire," said he, "ton beau plumage,"

(The which was simply persiflage).

Two things there are, no doubt you know, To which a fox is used,-- A rooster that is bound to crow, A crow that's bound to roost, And whichsoever he espies He tells the most unblus.h.i.+ng lies.

"Sweet fowl," he said, "I understand You're more than merely natty: I hear you sing to beat the band And Adelina Patti.

Pray render with your liquid tongue A bit from 'Gotterdammerung.'"

This subtle speech was aimed to please The crow, and it succeeded: He thought no bird in all the trees Could sing as well as he did.

In flattery completely doused, He gave the "Jewel Song" from "Faust."

But gravitation's law, of course, As Isaac Newton showed it, Exerted on the cheese its force, And elsewhere soon bestowed it.

In fact, there is no need to tell What happened when to earth it fell.

I blush to add that when the bird Took in the situation, He said one brief, emphatic word, Unfit for publication.

The fox was greatly startled, but He only sighed and answered "Tut!"

The moral is: A fox is bound To be a shameless sinner.

And also: When the cheese comes round You know it's after dinner.

But (what is only known to few) The fox is after dinner, too.

Guy Wetmore Carryl [1873-1904]

THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER Friend Of Humanity

Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going?

Rough is the road; your wheel is out of order.-- Bleak blows the blast;--your hat has got a hole in't.

So have your breeches!

Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, "Knives and Scissors to grind O!"

Tell me, knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?

Did some rich man tyrannically use you?

Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?

Or the attorney?

Was it the squire for killing of his game? or Covetous parson, for his t.i.thes destraining?

Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little All in a lawsuit?

(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?) Drops of compa.s.sion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story.

KNIFE-GRINDER Story? G.o.d bless you! I have none to tell, sir; Only, last night, a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle

Constables came up for to take me into Custody; they took me before the justice; Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish Stocks for a vagrant.

I should be glad to drink your honor's health in A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence; But for my part, I never love to meddle With politics, sir.

FRIEND OF HUMANITY I give thee sixpence! I will see thee d.a.m.ned first,-- Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance!-- Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast!

(Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.)

George Canning [1770-1827]

VILLON'S STRAIGHT TIP TO ALL CROSS COVES "Tout aux tavernes et aux fiells."

Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?

Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?

Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?

Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?

Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?

Or get the straight, and land your pot?

How do you melt the multy swag?

Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack; Or moskeneer, or flash the drag; Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack; Pad with a slang, or chuck a f.a.g; Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag; Rattle the tats, or mark the spot; You can not bag a single stag; Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

Suppose you try a different tack, And on the square you flash your flag?

At penny-a-lining make your whack, Or with the mummers mug and gag?

For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!

At any graft, no matter what, Your merry goblins soon stravag: Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

THE MORAL It's up the spout and Charley Wag With wipes and tickers and what not, Until the squeezer nips your scrag, Booze and the blowens cop the lot.