The Book of Humorous Verse
Chapter 82 : THE MORAL In one's language one conservative should be; Speech is silver and it ne

THE MORAL

In one's language one conservative should be; Speech is silver and it never should be free!

_Guy Wetmore Carryl._

BEHOLD THE DEEDS!

CHANT ROYAL

(Being the Plaint of Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, Salesman of Fancy Notions, held in durance of his Landlady for a failure to connect on Sat.u.r.day night.)

I

I would that all men my hard case might know; How grievously I suffer for no sin: I, Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, for lo!

I, of my landlady am locked in.

For being short on this sad Sat.u.r.day, Nor having shekels of silver wherewith to pay, She has turned and is departed with my key; Wherefore, not even as other boarders free, I sing (as prisoners to their dungeon stones When for ten days they expiate a spree): Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!

II

One night and one day have I wept my woe; Nor wot I when the morrow doth begin, If I shall have to write to Briggs & Co., To pray them to advance the requisite tin For ransom of their salesman, that he may Go forth as other boarders go alway-- As those I hear now flocking from their tea, Led by the daughter of my landlady Pianoward. This day for all my moans, Dry bread and water have been served me.

Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!

III

Miss Amabel Jones is musical, and so The heart of the young he-boarder doth win, Playing "The Maiden's Prayer," adagio-- That fetcheth him, as fetcheth the banco skin The innocent rustic. For my part, I pray: That Badarjewska maid may wait for aye Ere sits she with a lover, as did we Once sit together, Amabel! Can it be That all of that arduous wooing not atones For Sat.u.r.day shortness of trade dollars three?

Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!

IV

Yea! she forgets the arm was wont to go Around her waist. She wears a buckle whose pin Galleth the crook of the young man's elbow; I forget not, for I that youth have been.

Smith was aforetime the Lothario gay.

Yet once, I mind me, Smith was forced to stay Close in his room. Not calm, as I, was he; But his noise brought no pleasaunce, verily.

Small ease he gat of playing on the bones, Or hammering on his stove-pipe, that I see.

Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!

V

Thou, for whose fear the figurative crow I eat, accursed be thou and all thy kin!

Thee will I show up--yea, up will I show Thy too thick buckwheats, and thy tea too thin.

Ay! here I dare thee, ready for the fray!

Thou dost not keep a first-cla.s.s house, I say!

It does not with the advertis.e.m.e.nts agree.

Thou lodgest a Briton with a pugaree, And thou hast harbored Jacobses and Cohns, Also a Mulligan. Thus denounce I thee!

Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!

ENVOY

Boarders! the worst I have not told to ye: She hath stole my trousers, that I may not flee Privily by the window. Hence these groans, There is no fleeing in a _robe de nuit_.

Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!

_H. C. Bunner._

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 cannot 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.

_William Ernest Henley._

CULTURE IN THE SLUMS

Inscribed to an Intense Poet

I. RONDEAU

"O crikey, Bill!" she ses to me, she ses.

"Look sharp," ses she, "with them there sossiges.