Line-o f -Type Lyrics 
 
 BY 
 
 BERT LESTON TAYLOR 
 
 UC-NRLF 
 
 MS 075 
 
GIFT OF 
 H.L.Leupp 
 

Line~o f ~Type Lyrics 
 
Line -o f -Type Lyrics 
 
 BY 
 
 BERT LESTON TAYLOR 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "The Biiiotistine," The Book Booster," Etc, 
 
 E vanston 
 
 WILLIAM S. LORD 
 1902 
 
Copyright, 1902, 
 WILLIAM S. LORD 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 j* # j* 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ballade of Spring s Unrest H 
 To Margaret at the Urn . . . .12 
 
 Farewell 13 
 
 Obsessional . . . . , . 15 
 
 If I Were Francois Villon 16 
 
 The Premature Poet .... 17 
 
 Spring Song . 17 
 
 Four Limericks 18 
 
 When the Sirup s on the Flapjack , . 19 
 
 Seeds of Anarchy 20 
 
 In Every Street Car . . , . 22 
 
 Ballad of the Clark Street Cable . . 23 
 
 Miss Legion ..... 25 
 
 Autumn Reveries 26 
 
 Recalling "The Battle of Limerick" . 27 
 
 Washington s Birthday, 1902 ... 29 
 
;.... 31 
 
 Social Economics . . . . 32 
 
 Rondeau: To Ethelwyn . . . -33 
 
 Calverley s Ode to Tobacco ... 34 
 
 Ballade of Lovelorn Ladies . . . -36 
 
 The Persistent Poet 37 
 
 A West African Tragedy . . . .38 
 
 Mere Thoughts ..... 39 
 
 The Kaiser s Farewell to Prince Henry . . 41 
 
 Mr. Kipling s "The Question" . . 43 
 
 Le Morte De Cock Robin . . .45 
 
 The Pestilential Pianist .... 49 
 
 Prince Chun s Apology . . . -50 
 
 The Sonnet Contest .... 52 
 Hymn Before Battle .... 56 
 
 All That I Ask . . 57 
 
 When Polacks Wed ... 58 
 
Line-o -Tvpc Lyrics 
 
 BALLADE OF SPRING S UNREST. 
 
 IN the woodland where Spring 
 Comes as a laggard the breeze 
 
 Whispers the pines that the King. 
 Fallen, has yielded the keys 
 To his White Palace and flees 
 
 Northward o er mountain and dale. 
 Speed then the hour that frees! 
 
 Ho for the pack and the trail! 
 
 Northward my fancy takes wing. 
 
 Restless am I, ill at ease. 
 Pleasures the city can bring 
 
 Lose now their power to please. 
 
 Barren, all barren, are these; 
 Town life s a tedious tale ; 
 
 That cup is drained to the lees ; 
 Ho for the pack and the trail! 
 
1 Ho far the morning I sling 
 
 Pack at my back, and with knees 
 Brushing a thoroughfare fling 
 
 Into the green mysteries ; 
 
 One with the birds and the bees, 
 One with the squirrel and quail. 
 
 Night, and the stream s melodies: 
 Ho for the pack and the trail I 
 
 Pictures and music and teas. 
 Theatres books even stale. 
 
 Ho for the smell of the trees ! 
 H o for the pack and the trail! 
 
 TO MARGARET AT THE URN. 
 
 LEAVE a kiss but in the cup. 
 And I ll not look for tea. 
 
 Fair Margaret, e er I take it up. 
 
 O, leave a kiss but in the cup ! 
 
 Then with the gods I d scorn to sup. 
 Though Hebe smiled on me. 
 
 O, leave a kiss but in the cup. 
 And I ll not look for tea. 
 
 12 
 
FAREWELL. 
 
 [Provoked by Calverley s "Forever."] 
 
 REWELL!" Another gloomy word 
 As ever into language crept. 
 Tis often written, never heard 
 Except 
 
 In playhouse. Ere the hero flits 
 In handcuffs from our pitying view, 
 "Farewell!" he murmurs, then exits 
 R. U. 
 
 "Farewell 1" is much too sighful for 
 
 An age that has not time to sigh. 
 We say, "I ll see you later," or 
 "Cood-by!" 
 
 When, warned by chanticleer, you go 
 From her to whom you owe devoir, 
 Say not Good-by, she laughs, "but Au 
 Revoir! " 
 
 Thus from the garden are you sped: 
 
 And Juliet were the first to tell 
 You, you were silly if you said 
 "Farewell !" 
 
 13 
 
"Fare well," meant long ago, before 
 
 It crept tear-spattered into song, 
 "Safe voyage!" "Pleasant journey!" or 
 "So long!" 
 
 But gone its cheery, old-time ring; 
 
 The poets made it rhyme with knell. 
 Joined it became a dismal thing 
 "Farewell I" 
 
 "Farewell !" Into the lover s soul 
 
 You see Fate plunge the cruel iron. 
 All poets use it. It s the whole 
 Of Byron. 
 
 "I only feel farewell!" said he; 
 
 And always tearful was the telling. 
 Lord Byron was eternally 
 Farewelling. 
 
 "Farewell !" A dismal word tis true 
 
 (And why not tell the truth about it?) 
 But what on earth would poets do 
 Without it? 
 
OBSESSIONAL. 
 
 [Provoked by seeing the Fire Fiend thrust out 
 his tongue at Handel Hall.] 
 
 LL of oof father, Henry George, 
 First in our far-flung firing line, 
 Beneath whose hallowed roof we forge 
 The thunderbolt and lay the mine, 
 O Handel Hall ! be with us yet 
 Lest we forget ! Lest we forget ! 
 
 The tumult of Reform s brass bands. 
 The shouts of victory, are spent : 
 
 Unscathed, defiant, proud, still stands 
 Our foe the Unearned Increment ! 
 
 O Handel Hall ! stay with us yet 
 
 Lest we forget ! Lest we forget ! 
 
 Far called, our commerce flaunts away; 
 
 In myriad forges flames our fire, 
 Lo ! all our wealth of yesterday 
 
 Recalls the old boom days in Tyre. 
 O Handel Hal! ! don t leave us yet 
 Lest we forget ! Lest we forget ! 
 
n 
 
 -IF I WERE FRANCOIS VILLON." 
 
 [Provoked by Eugene Field s Bibliomaniac.] 
 
 I WERE Francois Villon, and Francois Villon I, 
 Methmks I d pass up Paris and give this town 
 a try. 
 
 He, with a foolish pencil, would sit and paragraph, 
 
 To cause judicious grieving and provoke unskill 
 ful laugh; 
 
 But I, with knife or knuckles, would prowl the 
 dark highway 
 
 And bribe the snoozing, boozing, bruising cop to 
 keep away, 
 
 Whilst with my trusty lead pipe I stilled my 
 victim s cry 
 
 If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I. 
 
 If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I, 
 I d wink at Captain Colleran and Kipley I d defy. 
 He, with his foolish pencil, would sit all day 
 
 and drool. 
 
 Attempting to be witty not succeeding, as a rule: 
 Whilst I, equipped for business, in my cloak a 
 
 lead pipe tucked, 
 
 16 
 
Would gather gold and silver at the Twelfth 
 
 street viaduct. 
 Oh, yes : I d pass up Paris and give this town 
 
 a try 
 If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I. 
 
 LT 
 
 THE PREMATURE POET. 
 
 E poet sought the sweet white violet 
 
 Long woodland pathways soaked with winter s 
 
 snows ; 
 
 Seeking, he got his feet exceeding wet, 
 And later turned up his poetic toes. 
 
 IT. 
 
 SPRING SONG. 
 
 WEISS mcht was soil es bedeuten 
 Dass ich so traurig bin. 
 Bei diesem abscheulichen Wetter 
 
 Wie kleid ich mich dick oder duenn? 
 Heut ist es so kalt wie in Greenland, 
 
 Und morgen schwitzt mancher sich schlank, 
 Und wer in Gesondheit heut funkelt 
 Liegt morgen in ben, und ist krank. 
 
D H 
 
 FOUR LIMERICKS. 
 
 I. 
 
 ERE once was a Princess of Thule, 
 Who remarked : "When my turn comes to rule 
 The first man I ll tin-can 
 Is that coachman McCann; 
 For I never could j stand for the fool. 
 
 II. 
 
 There was also A Fair Maid of Perth. 
 Who had eaten sweet stuff from her birth. 
 
 Til 1 one day she said : "Gee ! 
 
 I must let such things be : 
 For I fear the effect on my girth." 
 
 HI. 
 
 There was likewise A Maid of the Mist. 
 
 Who never, as yet, had been kissed. 
 If you tried to embrace her 
 She murmured: "Nay. niy, sir !" 
 
 And gave you a slap on the wrist. 
 18 
 
IV. 
 
 McCmnis, a musical hobo, 
 Performed passing well on the oboe, 
 
 Airs Irish or Negro. 
 
 He tooted allegro 
 Con 6r/o non troppo adobo. 
 
 WHEN THE SIRUP S ON THE FLAPJACK. 
 
 EN the sirup s on the flapjack and the coffee s 
 
 in the pot; 
 When the fly is in the butter where he d 
 
 rather be than not; 
 When the cloth is on the table, and the plates 
 
 are on the cloth; 
 When the salt is in the shaker and the chicken s 
 
 in the broth; 
 When the cream is in the pitcher and the pitcher s 
 
 on the tray, 
 And the tray is on the sideboard when it 
 
 isn t on the way; 
 When the rind is on the bacon and likewise 
 
 upon the cheese. 
 Then I somehow feel inspired to do a lot of 
 
 rhymes like these. 
 
 19 
 
SEEDS OF ANARCHY, 
 
 DDO not much concern myself 
 About my wealthy neighbors "tin": 
 I care not how they got their pelf 
 And care less how they blow it in. 
 
 Toward Handel Hall I fear I am. 
 
 To say the least, indifferent : 
 I do not care a tinker s dam 
 
 About the "unearned increment." 
 
 In fact it may as well be said 
 I rather like the folks of wealth. 
 
 They wash themselves, and do not shed 
 Microbes to undermine my health. 
 
 No doubt they re black enough at core 
 Their outward cleanliness but sham: 
 
 However, as I said before, 
 I do not care a tinker s dam. 
 
 Their fuss and feathers, follies all 
 I look upon with tolerant eye. 
 
 Nor even yield to Handel Hall 
 The passing tribute of a sigh. 
 
 20 
 
But when at three o clock, or four, 
 I seek my virtuous couch, to keep 
 
 A date with old Morpheus or, 
 In other words, to go to sleep 
 
 When sleep with me no terms will make, 
 But from my couch affrighted flees, 
 
 And I for hours am kept awake 
 
 By fearful howls and shrieks like these: 
 
 "Four-forty-nine! 
 
 "Mrs. Flighty s carriage!" 
 
 "Mr. Sportiboise carriage! Four- leven- 
 
 forty-four!" 
 
 "Chu-chu-chu-chu-chu ! * 
 "Mrs. Hotstuffe s carriage!" 
 "Victoria livery!" 
 "Bla-a-a! BI-a-a-a!"f 
 "One-sixty-six!" 
 "Soakem s livery!" 
 "Four-forty-four! 
 
 Why, then in language loose and loud, 
 I curse the diabolic din; 
 
 "The gasoline auto. 
 tThe horn of the aoto. 
 
 21 
 
I curse the Plutocratic crowd 
 
 The noisy way they blow their "tin." 
 Sleepless, I toss about and growl, 
 
 And am resolved to make descent 
 Next night on Handel Hall and howl 
 
 About the "unearned increment." 
 Nay. further yet to urge the rope 
 
 For all enrolled on Mammon s lists: 
 To cultivate contempt for soap. 
 
 And join a club of Anarchists. 
 
 IN EVERY STREET CAR. 
 
 STREET CAR (especially next to the stove) 
 
 Is coldest of all frigid things; 
 But it s never as you may at any time prove 
 Too cold for the lady that likes to remove 
 From one hand, which is commonly dirty, the glove. 
 And show her collection of rings. 
 
 22 
 
BALLAD OF THE CLARK STREET CABLE. 
 
 rAS in a vault beneath the street, 
 
 In the trench of the Clark street rope. 
 That I found a guy with a fishy eye 
 
 And a think tank filled with dope. 
 His hair was matted, his face was black, 
 
 And matted and black was he; 
 And I heard this wight in the vault recite. 
 
 In a singular minor key: 
 "O, I am the guy with the fishy eye, 
 
 And the think tank filled with dope. 
 My work is to watch the beautiful botch 
 
 That s known as the Clark street rope. 
 "I pipes my eye as the rope goes by 
 
 For every dangerous spot. 
 If I spies one out I gives a shout 
 
 And we puts in another knot. 
 "Them knots is all like brothers to me, 
 
 And I loves em, one and all." 
 The muddy guy with the fishy eye 
 
 A muddy tear let fall. 
 "There goes a knot what we tied last week; 
 
 There s one what we tied today; 
 
 23 
 
And there s a peach what was hard to reach. 
 And caused six hours delay. 
 
 "Two hundred and seventy- nine all told. 
 
 And I knows their history; 
 And I m most attached to a break we patched 
 
 In the winter of eighty-three. 
 
 For every time that knot comes round 
 
 It sings out: Howdy, Bill! 
 We ll walk em home tonight, old man. 
 
 From here to the Ferris Wheel. 
 
 " We ll walk em home in the rush hours.Bill, 
 
 A swearing company, 
 As we ve walked em. Bill, since I was tied 
 
 In the winter of eighty-three. 
 
 The dopey guy with the fishy eye 
 
 Let fall another tear. 
 "Them knots is wife and child to me: 
 
 I ve known em forty year. 
 
 "For I m the guy with the fishy eye 
 And the think tank filled with dope. 
 
 Whose work is to watch the beautiful botch 
 That s known as the Clark street rope. 
 
 24 
 
MISS LEGION. 
 
 E is hotfoot after Cultyure: 
 
 She pursues it with a club. 
 She breathes a heavy atmosphere 
 
 Of literary flub. 
 No literary shrine so far 
 
 But she is there to kneel: 
 
 And 
 Her favorite bunch of reading 
 
 Is O. Meredith s "Lucille." 
 
 Of course she s up on pictures 
 
 Passes for a connoisseur; 
 On free days at the Institute 
 
 You ll always notice her. 
 She qualifies approval 
 
 Of a Titian or Corot. 
 
 But 
 She throws a fit of rapture 
 
 When she comes to Bouguereau. 
 
 And when you talk of music. 
 
 Why. she s Music s devotee. 
 She will tell you that Beethoven 
 
 25 
 
Always makes her wish to pray, 
 And "dear old Bach!" his very name, 
 
 She says, her ear enchants; 
 
 But 
 Her favorite piece is Weber s 
 
 "Invitation to the Dance." 
 
 AUTUMN REVERIES. 
 
 |HEN the leaves are falling crimson 
 
 And the worm is off its feed; 
 When the rag weed and the jimson 
 
 Have agreed to go to seed: 
 When the air in forest bowers 
 
 Has a tang like Rhenish wine, 
 And to breathe it for two hours 
 
 Makes you feel you d like to dine; 
 When the frost is on the pumpkin 
 
 And the corn is in the shock. 
 And the cheek of country bumpkin 
 
 City faces seems to mock; 
 When you come across a ditty 
 
 (Like this one) of Autumn s chirm, 
 Then it s pleasant in the city, 
 
 Where at least one can keep warm. 
 
 26 
 
RECALLING "THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK." 
 
 genii of the nation, 
 ho look wid vineration 
 
 An the Sinit s degrydation onsaysingly deplore: 
 Ye sons of Brian Bor-oo, 
 Who smash all heads before you, 
 Attind to the wild hurroo on the Sinit flure. 
 
 Twas Sinitor Ben Tillman, 
 
 At schrappin not an ill man. 
 Who thinks tis right to kill man (provide tis 
 nayger gore), 
 
 He got a grand ould shcorin 
 
 From Sinitor McLaurin, 
 And started a wild roann on the Sinit flure. 
 
 Mac s timper risin higher. 
 
 He sez, "Ben, yer a liar!" 
 Sez he, which caused the ire of Tillman fur to soar. 
 
 Up flew Ben like a burrd 
 
 An soaked Mac in the furhd. 
 Wow! what a row was hurrd on the Sinit flure. 
 
 There was some grand infoightin . 
 Wid chewin and wid boitin" 
 
 27 
 
An whin twas most excoitm some wan cries, 
 "Bar the dufe! 
 
 Let saycrecy attind us; 
 
 Put shcranes befure the windies, 
 That no wan see our shindies on the Sinit flure." 
 
 Smitors Scott an Warren 
 
 They grabbed hould of McLaurin, 
 To kape him from explorin his colleague s heart 
 for gore; 
 
 An valiant Sargent Lay ton 
 
 Got a divvle of a batin* 
 Combathants siperatin on the Sinit flure. 
 
 Mr. Frye fur order knocked. 
 
 An the dure was closed an locked; 
 
 An ivery wan was shocked espicially Garge Hoar. 
 The combathants they widdrew. 
 An fur pardon they did sue 
 
 Which mded the shaloo on the Sinit flure. 
 
 28 
 
WASHINGTON S BIRTHDAY, 1902. 
 
 [EAR George, in serio-cynic way 
 We turn our thoughts to you today: 
 Not George the singularly pure 
 
 Tongued laddie 
 
 Who could not lie, but George the man. 
 Who could. Sometimes we wonder: Can 
 This be the country of which you re 
 The daddy? 
 
 The same. George; no, not quite the same. 
 We ve gathered wealth, and strength, and 
 
 fame; 
 Improved upon the parent stock; 
 
 Grown wiser. 
 (One moment, George Prince Henry s 
 
 here. 
 Excuse us while we add our cheer: 
 
 "Hoch!"-or as most of us say,"Hock"- 
 "Der Kaiser!") 
 
 We re very German, George, today. 
 And more disposed to drink and play 
 
 29 
 
Than list to patriotic screed 
 
 Or sermon. 
 
 The Prince is with us. No offense. 
 Your name, of course, takes precedence. 
 In other words. Dear George, you lead 
 The German. 
 
 You ve led the German, George, before. 
 You led him, on the Jersey shore, 
 A merry dance in seventy-six 
 
 December. 
 
 You rather jarred the British crown 
 That Christmas night in Trenton Town. 
 The German crowd lost all the tricks 
 Remember? 
 
 Of course you do, and wonder how 
 It happens that our voices now 
 
 In praise of Deutschland s royal tar 
 
 We re lifting; 
 
 And how you hear on every hand 
 The language of Der Vaterland. 
 
 No doubt you wonder, "Whither are 
 We drifting?" 
 
 30 
 
It s all right, George. You see, we got 
 The job to build the Kaiser s yacht. 
 As for the rest pray, how could we 
 
 Oppose it? 
 
 You ve had a birthday every year. 
 And you ll have others, never fear. 
 Here s a fresh, foaming stein to thee ! 
 George, "Prosit!" 
 
 JJH 
 
 DEPRESSIONAL. 
 
 E birds are flying southward; 
 
 The leaves are growing sere; 
 We wait with less impatience 
 
 For the man to draw the beer, 
 From which I draw the inference 
 
 That Autumn must be here. 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMICS. 
 
 RINNA frowns. She thinks it wise, 
 If she be happy, to disguise 
 Such weakness. For, if woman wear 
 A countenance that s free from care, 
 Man feels quite free to tyrannize. 
 
 When at the club some women rise 
 
 To preach good nature, and advise 
 
 A smiling face and cheerful air. 
 
 Cohnna frowns. 
 
 The lovelight in a woman s eyes 
 Will never light her to the skies; 
 
 A fierce, intimidating glare 
 
 Must show the way up Freedom s stair. 
 And so for that way progress lies 
 
 Corinna frowns. 
 
RONDEAU: TO ETHELWYN. 
 
 Ethelwyn I sing! For her 
 My Pegasus will need no spur. 
 How could I know, last Christmas eve, 
 That Gen would F. P. A. deceive? 
 I thought myself a connoisseur. 
 
 With every wish did she concur. 
 O, my! She was a jollier! 
 But now I turn from Genevieve 
 
 To Ethelwyn. 
 
 Go, Memory of things that were! 
 To her who sets my heart astir 
 
 These threads on Fancy s loom I weave, 
 All other ties I hereby cleave. 
 O, Cupid, give me a transfer 
 
 To Ethelwyn. 
 
 [P.P. A. 
 
 33 
 
CALVERLEY S ODE 
 
 TO TOBACCO. 
 
 [Revised by Lucy PagQaston.] 
 
 NSTER demoniacl 
 
 fty in thy attack I 
 Thou who with juices black 
 
 Young lungs defilest; 
 Vile, when the morn is gray: 
 Vile, when they ve cleared away 
 Lunch; and at close of day 
 Possibly vilest: 
 
 I have a hatred old 
 For thee, and manifold 
 Stories true ones are told 
 
 To thy discredit: 
 How one (or two at most) 
 Drops make a cat a ghost 
 Useless, except to roast 
 
 Doctors have said it; 
 
 How they who use fusees 
 All grow by slow degrees 
 Brainless as chimpanzees, 
 
 34 
 
Meager as lizards; 
 Go mad, and beat their wives: 
 Plunge (after shocking lives) 
 Razors and carving knives 
 Into their gizzards. 
 
 Such are thy knavish tricks. 
 I know of five or six 
 Smokers who ne er will mix 
 
 More with their neighbors. 
 They it is sad to say 
 Now are but lifeless clay; 
 Smoked nasty pipes, did they, 
 
 After their labors. 
 
 Tabbies have had their goose 
 Cooked by tobacco juice: 
 Yet men defend its use, 
 
 "Thoughtfully taken" ! ! 
 We re but as tabbies are. 
 Death lurks in the cigar 
 And the tobacco-jar. 
 Congress, awaken! 
 
 35 
 
BALLADE OF LOVELORN LADIES. 
 
 NEVIEVE, Ethelwyn. Griyce, 
 Marjorie, Rosalind, Rose 
 
 Others who tearfully trace 
 Daily their amorous woes 
 Whose every billet-doux shows 
 
 Life is all wormwood and gall 
 List! I ll a secret disclose: 
 
 G;Ws, I m in hoe with you all. 
 
 Had I the time and the space; 
 
 Did not a ballade impose 
 Limits one may not efface; 
 
 Were I but writing in prose; 
 
 I should be pleased to depose 
 Just the extent of my thrall. 
 
 Haply, I can t be verbose: 
 Girls, I m in love with you all. 
 
 Not that I think to displace 
 Lovers you long ago chose. 
 
 One heart could scarcely embrace 
 Arrows from so many bows. 
 Take all I dare to propose 
 
 36 
 
Each an allotment. Though small. 
 Maybe twill help some. Who 
 
 knows? 
 Girls, I m in hoe with you all 
 
 Dry, then, each tear-spattered nose; 
 
 If you need sympathy, call, 
 Take this assurance to close: 
 Girls Im in love with you all. 
 
 THE PERSISTENT POET. 
 
 REMEMBER, I remember" 
 omething special? Not a bit. 
 But, you see, this is September, 
 And Remember rhymes with it. 
 
 D 
 
 37 
 
A WEST AFRICAN TRAGEDY. 
 
 SHE wives of the Chief Fodey Kabba 
 
 (Never fairer were broke 
 
 In the marital yoke). 
 Like the thieves of our friend Ali Baba, 
 
 Have been killed at one terrible stroke. 
 
 Fair and fat, and just forty in number, 
 
 With necks as snow white* 
 
 And black eyes as bright 
 As ever bent o er a chief s slumber. 
 
 Blown higher than Cilderoy s kite. 
 
 It seems that some one had been smoking, 
 
 In manner serene. 
 
 Near the chief s magazine 
 (It was really very provoking). 
 
 And the ladies were all on the scene. 
 
 They are gone, and no one can restore em. 
 
 He can train up a new 
 
 Batch of wives, it is true: 
 But think of the job that s before him! 
 
 We wouldn t attempt it would you? 
 
 *Poetic license No. 480. 
 
 38 
 
MERE THOUGHTS. 
 
 [Suggested by the Purity Convention.] 
 
 AVE you ever paused to wonder 
 What would be Earth s dismal fate 
 
 Were it not for those that under- 
 Take to keep it spinning straight? 
 
 Who have time and taste for minding 
 Every business but their own, 
 
 And assume a contract binding 
 As the Sisyphean stone? 
 
 Thanks to them, our rakish planet 
 Keeps within the moral law. 
 
 Tho it wish to, never can it 
 Closer unto Venus draw; 
 
 Never go off gallivanting 
 With the lady stars of space, 
 
 Where the Pleiad girls go panting 
 In the never-ending chase; 
 
 Never flirt with Cassiopeia, 
 Never take Callisto s hand, 
 
 Never give the lone Astraea 
 
 Chance to murmur, "This is grand." 
 
 39 
 
You and I. perchance, are musing 
 With our heads among the stars, 
 
 Quite regardless of the boozing 
 At a multitude of bars; 
 
 Quite regardless of a lady 
 Who next door to us resides. 
 
 With a past that is as shady 
 As the grove where Dian hides: 
 
 Never dreaming that Pomona, 
 Who is pretty and demure, 
 
 Would come short of a diploma 
 In conventions of the pure: 
 
 Never thinking, as we ought to, 
 
 Of the sin all over town; 
 Never giving any thought to 
 
 Any business but our own. 
 
 Pause a moment, then, and wonder 
 What this sad, bad world would do 
 
 Were it not for those that under- 
 Take to keep it whirling true. 
 
 40 
 
THE KAISER S FAREWELL TO PRINCE 
 HENRY. 
 
 FWIEDERSEHEN, brother mine! 
 Farewells will soon be kissed; 
 And, ere you leave to breast the brine, 
 Give me once more your fist; 
 
 That mailed fist, clenched high in air 
 
 On many a foreign shore. 
 Enforcing coaling stations where 
 
 No stations were before; 
 
 That fist, which weaker nations view 
 
 As if twere Michael s own. 
 And which appals the heathen who 
 
 Bow down to wood and stone. 
 
 But this trip no brass knuckles. Glove 
 
 That heavy mailed hand; 
 Your mission now is one of Love 
 
 And Peace you understand. 
 
 All that s American you ll praise; 
 
 The Yank can do no wrong. 
 To use his own expressive phrase. 
 
 Just "jolly him along." 
 
Express surprise to find, the more 
 
 Of Roosevelt you see. 
 How much I am like Theodore, 
 
 And Theodore like me. 
 
 I am, in fact, (this might not be 
 
 A bad thing to suggest,) 
 The Theodore of the East, and he 
 
 The William of the West. 
 
 And, should you get a chance, find out- 
 
 If anybody knows 
 Exactly what it s all about. 
 
 That Doctrine of Monroe s. 
 
 That s entre nous. My present plan 
 
 You know as well as I: 
 Be just as Yankee as you can: 
 
 If needs be, eat some pie. 
 
 Cut out the kraut, cut out Rhine wine. 
 
 Cut out the Schutzenfest, 
 The Sangerbund, the Turnverein, 
 
 The Kommers, and the rest. 
 
 And if some fool society 
 
 "Die Wacht am Rhein* should sing, 
 
 42 
 
You sing "My Country Tis of Thee" 
 The tune s "God Save the King." 
 
 To our own kindred in that land 
 
 There s not much you need tell. 
 fust tell them that you saw me, and 
 
 That I was looking well. 
 
 MR. KIPLING S "THE QUESTION." * 
 
 [From the London Times.] 
 
 GE more our arms in Africa have got another 
 
 check. 
 Benson s command is what you might call a total 
 
 wreck. 
 Look at the maddening figures ! Benson killed 
 
 outright. 
 And eight other gallant officers also killed in the 
 
 fight. 
 
 Fifty-eight non-commissioned officers and men. 
 Who fell upon the veldt and will never get up 
 
 again. 
 
 *Which provoked a solemn magazine article on the decadence 
 of Kipling. 
 
 43 
 
The question my lords and gentlemen that I here 
 
 ask of you. 
 Is, What art we going to do, eh? What are we 
 
 going to do? 
 
 We thought we had Botha pocketed, with a paltry 
 
 three hundred men, 
 
 And the first we knew he was up and at us again, 
 We sneered at them, called them "guerrillas," and 
 
 didn t think that they 
 Would cast a shadow of any size on our corona- 
 
 tion day. 
 But now we ve found, as we ve found before, that 
 
 there s something wrong, 
 That instead of being guerrillas they re an army 
 
 still and strong. 
 
 And the question that must be answered, the ques 
 tion that s up to you, 
 Is, What are we going to do, eh? What are we 
 
 going to do? 
 
 44 
 
LE MORTE DE COCK ROBIN. 
 Sixth Book. 
 
 SIR HAROLD AND SIR JOHN. 
 
 How ye Knighte of ye Golde Tipps chaunced to ineete ye 
 Knighte of ye Corke Tipps, and did invyte hym to a just 
 ing; and how ye Knightes foughten a great combat untill both 
 were aswowne 
 
 XXV. 
 
 |E while ye esquire of Sir John 
 
 Did ply ye vaseline. 
 Sir Harold s squire. Light Housman, rubbed 
 Hys Knighte with listerine. 
 
 XXVI. 
 Ye while Sir John anoynted was 
 
 With orange floure cheese. 
 Sir Harold s squire did do ye same 
 For hym with creme marquise. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And while ye Knightes each other did 
 
 Insult in pantomime, 
 Ye squires did talcum-powder them 
 
 And give ye signal, - Time !" 
 
 45 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 Righte eagerly ye warring Knightes 
 Did rush in brim 16 embrace, 
 
 And dashed ye Turkish cigarette 
 In each ye other s face. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 So violent ye shocke it was 
 
 Both fell upon ye grounde 
 Astoned 1 ?. With fans and gynger ayle 
 
 Ye squires did bringe them rounde. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Sir Harold now lept atte Sir John, 
 And slapped hym on ye wriste: 
 
 Sir John did counter with a slap 
 Upon Sir Harold s chist 8 . 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And eft 9 they fell, and man would say 
 That each or both were slain. 
 
 Ye squires did ply ye smellynge salts. 
 And bring them round again. 
 
 46 
 
XXXII. 
 
 ** Ods copy-paper!" cried Sir John. 
 
 And hurtled 30 with hys righte: 
 " Ods violet ink!" Sir Harold cried. 
 
 And smote with all hys mighte. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And thus they fared an hour or more. 
 
 Attempting each to lande: 
 They rased and lashed, and trased and rashed 21 
 
 And foined 22 to beat ye bande. 
 
 XXXIV, 
 
 Atte laste Sir Harold waxed hym fainte. 
 
 And gave somewhat aback, 
 "Now," cried ye esquire of Sir John, 
 
 "Hande him a cracker jacke!" 2 3 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Sir John did putte forthe alle hys mighte 
 
 To give ye coup de grace, 
 And eft another cigarette 
 
 Dashed in Sir Harold s face. 
 
 47 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 It was a fell and fearful stroke! 
 
 Sir John then fell attainted 4 
 Ye victor and ye vanquished lay 
 
 Together in a fainte. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And while ye Kightes did lie aswowne, 25 
 
 With faces wan and pale, 
 Ye doughty squires did finish up 
 
 Ye stock of gynger ayle. 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 16 Furious. 17 Stunned. 18 Chest. 19 Again 
 
 20 Led out. 21 Danced about. 22 Sparred. 
 
 23 A mighty stioke. 24 Exhausted 25 In a swoon. 
 
 4 8 
 
THE PESTILENTIAL PIANIST. 
 
 JESTILENTIAL pianist 
 
 Large of arm and stiff of wrist, 
 Hatless, coatless, soulless too, 
 Did it e er occur to you 
 That your pounding s very hard on 
 Patrons of this summer garden ? 
 Heavens! ou are nosier far 
 Than a clanging cable car ! 
 Did a mortal ever see 
 More pernicious industry ? 
 Why in Sam Hill can t you quit 
 For at leist five minutes ? It 
 Isn t necessary for 
 You to make the piano roar 
 Every minute of the night. 
 At the very least you might 
 Stop and take a drink or two, 
 I ll pay for it if you do. 
 Ah ! he stops! I really think 
 That s he s going to get that drink. 
 Heavens ! there he goes again, 
 Hammering with might and main, 
 
 49 
 
Pestilential pianist 
 Saw-log arm and iron wrist 
 I ve a mind to rise and throttle 
 You or brain you with a bottle. 
 Come, my dear let s cut this riot; 
 Let s go some place where it s quiet. 
 
 PRINCE CHUN S APOLOGY. 
 
 (HEN the hour was come Prince Chun arose. 
 
 And balanced a shoestring on his nose, 
 "From this some notion you will get," 
 Said he, "of China s deep regret." 
 
 Now balancing upon his ear 
 A stein of foaming lager beer, 
 "This attitude." said he, "reveals 
 "How very sorry China feels." 
 
 Then spinning, top-like, on his cue, 
 "I can t begin to tell to you 
 The deep remorse we suffer for 
 The death of your Ambassador." 
 
 Next, placing on his cue a plate, 
 He said, as it gan to gyrate: 
 
"Nothing that s happened in his reign 
 Has caused my Emperor so much pain/ 
 
 Upon his back he did declare. 
 While juggling five balls in the air: 
 "This attitude the humblest yet 
 Expresses personal regret." 
 
 Last, spreading out a deck of cards 
 "Accept my Emperor s regards. 
 As our intentions were well meant. 
 Pray overlook the incident." 
 
THE SONNET CONTEST. 
 
 [A prize of a steel engraving of George Washington was 
 offered for the best sonnet built on rhymes to the names 
 Battromie Szlizexc and Waroniki Kizayteza, who had been 
 licensed to wed at Danville, 111.] 
 
 I 
 
 Battromie, no doubt you think me cheeky, 
 But I were no true man did I not seize a 
 Good chance like this to tickle and to please a 
 Sweet person as is darling Waroniki, 
 Let others sing "O" Lasses o* Auld Reekie, " 
 I sing of Danville s fairest maid, for she s a 
 Peach, be she Szlizexc, be she Kizayteza 
 I sing her praises in a sonnet squeaky. 
 
 I hereby tender my congratulations 
 
 To both of you, dear Mr. and dear Mrs., 
 
 But though I send my true felicitations, 
 
 A question s in my mind tonight and this is: 
 
 By all the shades of Polanders most shady! 
 
 Which is the Gentleman and which the Lady? 
 
 F. P. A. 
 
 5- 
 
II. 
 
 What pluck, 
 
 O. Battromie! 
 
 Waroniki, 
 What luck! 
 I m stuck 
 
 On both of ye, 
 
 O, Hully Ghee, 
 I duck ! 
 
 Great Scott, and Zounds ! 
 
 Likewise, O my ! 
 
 What type in "pi," 
 What vowel sounds 
 
 Wait eye and ear 
 
 This time next year ! 
 
 Pegasus Shelley 
 
 III 
 
 To Hymen s halls comes Battromie Szlizexc 
 And with him Waroniki Kizayteza, 
 (This combination surely izayteza !) 
 They fain will now insert their foolish nexz 
 In Hymen s noose, there to await the wrexz 
 
 53 
 
Of Time. We hope "Bart s not a dizaygeza. 
 
 Who ties to Waroniki jizaypleza, 
 
 But that he doth admire the gentler sexz 
 
 With soft regard. We hope that Waroniki, 
 
 Who now doth pledge herself with Battromie 
 
 To live no more a life of atrophie, 
 
 Will not find that her two-hulled craft is liki ! 
 
 The health of W. K. and B. Szlizexc 
 
 We now propose in draughts of foaming X ! 
 
 P. S. W. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Battromie, sur named hissingly Szlizexc 
 (One listening might think white iron seethed 
 Neath water torture, in some smithy wreathed 
 With smoke and climbing steam.) Lo ! yonder 
 
 decks 
 
 Thy Waroniki all those charms which breathed 
 Love first into thy soul ! The sunlight ftecks 
 Her swarthy hair, and on her stately neck s 
 The guad thou gav st her when she shy bequeathed 
 To thee her heart. The wedding morning calls ! 
 Be Czech, or Polish, or Hungarian, 
 Austere to Western ears, the alien tongue 
 
 54 
 
In which ye plight your troth in humble halls, 
 Its voice is one with that first speech wherein 
 Glad Adam spake with Eve when time was young. 
 
 Fairfield 
 
 V. 
 
 Behold Chicago s poets sighing : O, me, 
 
 My Latin now what aids, what helps me Greek 
 
 me? 
 Fair naiads of the Vistula, I seek ye ! 
 
 To win the prize, rhymes never heard of show me ! 
 
 Let me this Skeezicks praise, surnamed Battromie 
 (If he the gent be) and sweet Waromki ! 
 My sonnet growi ! Ho, veni, vidi, vici ! 
 
 Hurrah for stately groom and maiden comely ! 
 
 What fools ye be ! This Polish lady s visage 
 Will, by the flowing name of Paderewski, 
 With naught but anger ever on ye gaze, ah ! 
 How dare ye call her own beloved Szlizexc 
 A Skeezicks brutish name and harsh and pesky ? 
 Beware the nails of Mrs. Kizayteza ! 
 
 Mezzofanti 
 
 55 
 
HYMN BEFORE BATTLE. 
 
 W glory to our holy cause ! Confusion to our 
 
 foes! 
 
 And glory to our leader as she into action goes ! 
 And where the fight is thickest, where the hairpins 
 
 are in piles 
 You ll see the nodding ostrich plume of Alice 
 
 Bradford Wiles. 
 
 Those lightning bugs of science, with their head 
 lights on behind, 
 
 The writing experts, far and wide we ll scatter, as 
 the winds. 
 
 Chaff scatters. And, victorious, our scratched 
 and tattered files 
 
 Will cheer the nodding ostrich plume of Alice 
 Bradford Wiles. 
 
 Then glory to our holy cause ! And let the 
 
 welkin ring ! 
 We ll clasp our fingers on the hair of every mean 
 
 old thing, 
 
 56 
 
And where the false fronts, switches, bangs, and 
 
 hairpins lie in piles 
 You ll see triumphant wave the plume of Alice 
 
 Bradford Wiles. 
 
 Minerva Fuller-Prunes 
 
 ALL THAT I ASK 
 From Poems of Passion 
 
 [From Ellen Whaler Wheelwright] 
 
 that I ask is but to stand 
 Or sit and hold your burning hand. 
 Ah, love! that would indeed be grand! 
 All that I ask. 
 
 All that I ask is but to hold 
 
 You in embrace that s not too bold 
 Just bold enough, O joy pure gold! 
 All that I ask. 
 
 All that I ask is but to seize 
 
 Your lips, and drain them to the lees. 
 Would that not be, love, just the cheese ?- 
 All that I ask. 
 
 57 
 
WHEN POLACKS WED. 
 
 Rondeau. 
 
 n Polacks wed all Sheol breaks loose; 
 One s larynx suffers like the deuce ; 
 The alphabet goes on a spree, 
 Our eyes get criss-cross as can be. 
 Such quips and cranks the types produce. 
 
 I d like, as Hymen ties this noose, 
 To wish both joy but what s the use? 
 The names are far too much for me 
 
 When Polacks wed. 
 
 Still, let me try. As I deduce, 
 Battro s the gander. War the goose, 
 Hoch, dreimal! then, the zigzag he! 
 And, Hoch! the fair, mellifluous she! 
 But what a strain it is, O Zeus! 
 
 When Polacks wed. 
 Pegasus Shelley 
 
These verses originally appeared in 
 the Chicago Tribune; they are re- 
 published by permission : : : 
 
 59 
 
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