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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34790-8.txt b/34790-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0d2fa9 --- /dev/null +++ b/34790-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1369 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Perverted Proverbs, by +Harry Graham, (AKA Col. D. Streamer) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Perverted Proverbs + A Manual of Immorals for the Many + +Author: Harry Graham, (AKA Col. D. Streamer) + +Release Date: December 30, 2010 [EBook #34790] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERVERTED PROVERBS *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, Carol Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + PERVERTED + PROVERBS + + _A MANUAL OF IMMORALS + FOR THE MANY_ + BY + COL. D. STREAMER + + Author of "Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless + Homes" "Ballads of the Boer War" + "The Baby's Baedeker" + + [Illustration: printer's logo] + + NEW YORK + R. H. RUSSELL + 1903 + + _Copyright, 1903, by Robert Howard Russell_ + Published May, 1903. + + + + + PERVERTED PROVERBS + + + + + _Perverted Proverbs_ + + _Dedicated to + Helen Whitney_ + + + Do you recall those bygone days, + When you received with kindly praise + My bantling book of Rhyme? + Praise undeserved, alas! and yet + How sweet! For, tho' we had not met, + (Ah! what a waste of time!) + I could the more enjoy such mercies + Since I delighted in _your_ verses. + + And when a Poet stoops to smile + On some one of the rank and file, + (Inglorious--if not mute,) + Some groundling bard who craves to climb, + Like me, the dizzy rungs of Rhyme, + To reach the Golden Fruit; + For one in such a situation + The faintest praise is no damnation. + + Parnassus heights must surely pall; + For simpler diet do you call, + Of nectar growing tired? + These verses to your feet I bring, + Drawn from an unassuming spring, + Well-meant--if not inspired; + O charming Poet's charming daughter, + Descend and taste my toast and water! + + For you alone these lines I write, + That, reading them, your brow may light + Beneath its crown of bays; + Your eyes may sparkle like a star, + With friendship, that is dearer far + Than any breath of praise; + The which a lucky man possessing + Can ask no higher human blessing. + + And, though the "salt estranging sea" + Be widely spread 'twixt you and me, + We have what makes amends; + And since I am so glad of you, + Be glad of me a little, too, + Because of being friends. + And, if I earn your approbation, + Accept my humble dedication. + + H. G. + + + + + _Foreword_ + + + The Press may pass my Verses by + With sentiments of indignation, + And say, like Greeks of old, that I + Corrupt the Youthful Generation; + I am unmoved by taunts like these-- + (And so, I think, was Socrates). + + Howe'er the Critics may revile, + I pick no journalistic quarrels, + Quite realizing that my Style + Makes up for any lack of Morals; + For which I feel no shred of shame-- + (And Byron would have felt the same). + + I don't intend a Child to read + These lines, which are not for the Young; + For, if I did, I should indeed + Feel fully worthy to be hung. + (Is "hanged" the perfect tense of "hang"? + Correct me, Mr. Andrew Lang!) + + O Young of Heart, tho' in your prime, + By you these Verses may be seen! + Accept the Moral with the Rhyme, + And try to gather what I mean. + But, if you can't, it won't hurt me! + (And Browning would, I know, agree.) + + Be reassured, I have not got + The style of Stephen Phillips' heroes, + Nor Henry Jones's pow'r of Plot, + Nor wit like Arthur Wing Pinero's! + (If so, I should not waste my time + In writing you this sort of rhyme.) + + I strive to paint things as they Are, + Of Realism the true Apostle; + All flow'ry metaphors I bar, + Nor call the homely thrush a "throstle." + Such synonyms would make me smile. + (And so they would have made Carlyle.) + + My Style may be at times, I own, + A trifle cryptic or abstruse; + In this I do not stand alone, + And need but mention, in excuse, + A thousand world-familiar names, + From Meredith to Henry James. + + From these my fruitless fancy roams + To seek the Ade of Modern Fable, + From Doyle's or Hemans' "Stately Ho(l)mes," + To t'other of The Breakfast Table; + Like Galahad, I wish (in vain) + "My wit were as the wit of Twain!" + + Had I but Whitman's rugged skill, + (And managed to escape the Censor), + The Accuracy of a Mill, + The Reason of a Herbert Spencer, + The literary talents even + Of Sidney Lee or Leslie Stephen. + + The pow'r of Patmore's placid pen, + Or Watson's gift of execration, + The sugar of Le Gallienne, + Or Algernon's Alliteration. + One post there is I'd not be lost in, + --Tho' I might find it most ex-austin'! + + Some day, if I but study hard, + The public, vanquished by my pen'll + Acclaim me as a Minor Bard, + Like Norman Gale or Mrs. Meynell, + And listen to my lyre a-rippling + Imperial banjo-spasms like Kipling. + + Were I a syndicate like K. + Or flippant scholar like Augustine; + Had I the style of Pater, say, + Which ev'ryone would put their trust in, + I'd love (as busy as a squirrel) + To pate, to kipple, and to birrel. + + So don't ignore me. If you should, + 'Twill touch me to the very heart oh! + To be as much misunderstood + As once was Andrea del Sarto; + Unrecognized to toil away, + Like Millet--not, of course, Mill_ais_. + + And, pray, for Morals do not look + In this unique agglomeration, + --This unpretentious little book + Of Infelicitous Quotation. + I deem you foolish if you do, + (And Mr. Russell thinks so, too). + + + + + _"Virtue is Its Own Reward"_ + + + Virtue its own reward? Alas! + And what a poor one as a rule! + Be Virtuous and Life will pass + Like one long term of Sunday-School. + (No prospect, truly, could one find + More unalluring to the mind.) + + You may imagine that it pays + To practise Goodness. Not a bit! + You cease receiving any praise + When people have got used to it; + 'Tis generally understood + You find it _easy_ to be good. + + The Model Child has got to keep + His fingers and his garments white; + In church he may not go to sleep, + Nor ask to stop up late at night. + In fact he must not ever do + A single thing he wishes to. + + He may not paddle in his boots, + Like naughty children, at the Sea; + The sweetness of Forbidden Fruits + Is not, alas! for such as he. + He watches, with pathetic eyes, + His weaker brethren make mud-pies. + + He must not answer back, oh no! + However rude grown-ups may be, + But keep politely silent, tho' + He brim with scathing repartee; + For nothing is considered worse + Than scoring off Mamma or Nurse. + + He must not eat too much at meals, + Nor scatter crumbs upon the floor; + However vacuous he feels, + He may not pass his plate for more; + --Not tho' his ev'ry organ ache + For further slabs of Christmas cake. + + He is enjoined to choose his food + From what is easy to digest; + A choice which in itself is good, + But never what _he_ likes the best. + (At times how madly he must wish + For just _one_ real unwholesome dish!) + + And, when the wretched urchin plays + With other little girls and boys, + He has to show unselfish ways + By giving them his choicest toys; + His ears he lets them freely box, + Or pull his lubricated locks. + + His face is always being washed, + His hair perpetually brushed, + And thus his brighter side is squashed, + His human instincts warped and crushed; + Small wonder that his early years + Are filled with "thoughts too deep for tears." + + He is commanded not to waste + The fleeting hours of childhood's days + By giving way to any taste + For circuses or matinées; + For him the entertainments planned + Are "Lectures on the Holy Land." + + He never reads a story book + By Rider H. or Winston C., + In vain upon his desk you'd look + For tales by Richard Harding D.; + Nor could you find upon his shelf + The works of Rudyard--or myself! + + He always fears that he may do + Some action that is _infra dig._, + And so he lives his short life through + In the most noxious rôle of Prig. + ("Short life" I say, for it's agreed + The Good die very young indeed.) + + Ah me! How sad it is to think + He could have lived like me--or you! + With practice and a taste for drink, + Our joys he might have known, he too! + And shared the pleasure _we_ have had + In being gloriously bad! + + The Naughty Boy gets much delight + From doing what he should not do; + But, as such conduct isn't Right, + He sometimes suffers for it, too. + Yet, what's a spanking to the fun + Of leaving vital things Undone? + + If he's notoriously bad, + But for a day should change his ways, + His parents will be all so glad, + They'll shower him with gifts and praise! + (It pays a connoisseur in crimes + To be a perfect saint at times.) + + Of course there always lies the chance + That he is charged with being ill, + And all his innocent romance + Is ruined by a rhubarb pill. + (Alas! 'Tis not alone the Good + That are so much misunderstood.) + + But, as a rule, when he behaves + (Evincing no malarial signs), + His friends are all his faithful slaves, + Until he once again declines + With easy conscience, more or less, + To undiluted wickedness. + + The Wicked flourish like the bay, + At Cards or Love they always win, + Good Fortune dogs their steps all day, + They fatten while the Good grow thin. + The Righteous Man has much to bear; + The Bad becomes a Bullionaire! + + For, though he be the greatest sham, + Luck favours him his whole life through; + At "Bridge" he always makes a Slam + After declaring "Sans atout"; + With ev'ry deal his fate has planned + A hundred Aces in his hand. + + And it is always just the same; + He somehow manages to win, + By mere good fortune, any game + That he may be competing in. + At Golf no bunker breaks his club, + For him the green provides no "rub." + + At Billiards, too, he flukes away + (With quite unnecessary "side"); + No matter what he tries to play, + For him the pockets open wide; + He never finds both balls in baulk, + Or makes miss-cues for want of chalk. + + He swears; he very likely bets; + He even wears a flaming necktie; + Inhales Egyptian cigarettes + And has a "Mens Inconscia Recti"; + Yet, spite of all, one must confess + That naught succeeds like his excess. + + There's no occasion to be Just, + No need for motives that are fine, + To be Director of a Trust, + Or Manager of a Combine; + Your corner is a public curse, + Perhaps; but it will fill your purse. + + Then stride across the Public's bones, + Crush all opponents under you, + Until you "rise on stepping-stones + Of their dead selves"; and, when you do, + The widow's and the orphan's tears + Shall comfort your declining years! + + But having had your boom in oil, + And made your millions out of it, + Would you propose to cease from toil? + Great Vanderfeller! Not a bit! + You've _got_ to labour, day and night, + Until you die--and serve you right! + + Then, when you stop this frenzied race, + And others in your office sit, + You'll leave the world a better place, + --The better for your leaving it! + For there's a chance perhaps your heir + May spend what you've collected there. + + Myself, how lucky I must be, + That need not fear so gross an end; + Since Fortune has not favoured me + With many million pounds to spend. + (Still, did that fickle Dame relent, + I'd show you how they _should_ be spent!) + + I am not saint enough to feel + My shoulder ripen to a wing, + Nor have I wits enough to steal + His title from the Copper King; + And there's a vasty gulf between + The Man I Am and Might Have Been; + + But tho' at dinner I may take + Too much of Heidsieck (extra dry), + And underneath the table make + My simple couch just where I lie, + My mode of roosting on the floor + Is just a trick and nothing more. + + And when, not Wisely but too Well, + My thirst I have contrived to quench, + The stories I am apt to tell + May be, perhaps, a trifle French; + (For 'tis in anecdote, no doubt, + That what's Bred in the Beaune comes out.) + + It does not render me unfit + To give advice, both wise and right, + Because I do not follow it + Myself as closely as I might; + There's nothing that I wouldn't do + To point the proper road to _you_. + + And this I'm sure of, more or less, + And trust that you will all agree, + The Elements of Happiness + Consist in being--just like Me; + No sinner, nor a saint perhaps, + But--well, the very best of chaps. + + Share the Experience I have had, + Consider all I've known and seen, + And Don't be Good, and Don't be Bad, + But cultivate a Golden Mean. + + * * * * * + + What makes Existence _really_ nice + Is Virtue--with a dash of Vice. + + + + + "_Enough is as Good as a Feast._" + + + What is Enough? An idle dream! + One cannot have enough, I swear, + Of Ices or Meringues-and-Cream, + Nougat or Chocolate Eclairs, + Of Oysters or of Caviar, + Of Prawns or Paté de Foie _Grar_! + + Who would not willingly forsake + Kindred and Home, without a fuss, + For Icing from a Birthday Cake, + Or juicy fat Asparagus, + And journey over countless seas + For New Potatoes and Green Peas? + + They say that a Contented Mind + Is a Continual Feast;--but where + The mental frame, and how to find, + Which can with Turtle Soup compare? + No mind, however full of Ease, + Could be Continual Toasted Cheese. + + For dinner have a sole to eat, + (Some Perrier Jouet, '92,) + An Entrée then (and, with the meat, + A bottle of Lafitte will do), + A quail, a glass of port (just one), + Liqueurs and coffee, and you've done. + + But should you want a hearty meal, + And not this gourmet's lightsome snack, + Fill up with terrapin and teal, + Clam chowder, crabs and canvasback; + With all varieties of sauce, + And diff'rent wines for ev'ry course. + + Your tastes may be of simpler type;-- + A homely glass of "half-and-half," + An onion and a dish of tripe, + Or headpiece of the kindly calf. + (Cruel perhaps, but then, you know, + "_'Faut tout souffrir pour être veau!_") + + 'Tis a mistake to eat too much + Of any dishes but the best; + And you, of course, should never touch + A thing you _know_ you can't digest; + For instance, lobster;--if you _do_, + Well,--I'm amayonnaised at you! + + Let this be your heraldic crest, + A bottle (chargé) of Champagne, + A chicken (gorged) with salad (dress'd), + Below, this motto to explain-- + "Enough is Very Good, may be; + Too Much is Good Enough for Me!" + + + + + "_Don't Buy a Pig in a Poke._" + + + Unscrupulous Pigmongers will + Attempt to wheedle and to coax + The ignorant young housewife till + She purchases her pigs in pokes; + Beasts that have got a Lurid Past, + Or else are far Too Good to Last. + + So, should you not desire to be + The victim of a cruel hoax, + Then promise me, ah! promise me, + You will not purchase pigs in pokes! + ('Twould be an error just as big + To poke your purchase in a pig.) + + Too well I know the bitter cost, + To turn this subject off with jokes; + How many a fortune has been lost + By men who purchased pigs in pokes. + (Ah! think on such when you would talk + With mouths that are replete with pork!) + + And, after dinner, round the fire, + Astride of Grandpa's rugged knee, + Implore your bored but patient sire + To tell you what a Poke may be. + The fact he might disclose to you-- + Which is far more than _I_ can do. + + * * * * * + + The Moral of The Pigs and Pokes + Is not to make your choice too quick. + In purchasing a Book of Jokes, + Pray poke around and take your pick. + Who knows how rich a mental meal + The covers of _this_ book conceal? + + + + + "_Learn to Take Things Easily._" + + + To these few words, it seems to me, + A wealth of sound instruction clings; + O Learn to Take things easily-- + Espeshly Other People's Things; + And Time will make your fingers deft + At what is known as Petty Theft. + + Your precious moments do not waste; + Take Ev'rything that isn't tied! + Who knows but you may have a Taste, + A Gift perhaps, for Homicide,-- + (A Mania which, encouraged, thrives + On Taking Other People's Lives). + + "Fools and Their Money soon must part!" + And you can help this on, may be, + If, in the kindness of your Heart, + You Learn to Take things easily; + And be, with little education, + A Prince of Misappropriation. + + + + + "_A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss._" + + + I never understood, I own, + What anybody (with a soul) + Could mean by offering a Stone + This needless warning not to Roll; + And what inducement there can be + To gather Moss I fail to see. + + I'd sooner gather anything, + Like primroses, or news perhaps, + Or even wool (when suffering + A momentary mental lapse); + But could forego my share of moss, + Nor ever realize the loss. + + 'Tis a botanical disease, + And worthy of remark as such; + Lending a dignity to trees, + To ruins a romantic touch. + A timely adjunct, I've no doubt, + But not worth writing home about. + + Of all the Stones I ever met, + In calm repose upon the ground, + I really never found one yet + With a desire to roll around; + Theirs is a stationary rôle,-- + (A joke,--and feeble on the whole). + + But, if I were a stone, I swear + I'd sooner move and view the World + Than sit and grow the greenest hair + That ever Nature combed and curled. + I see no single saving grace + In being known as "Mossyface!" + + Instead, I might prove useful for + A weapon in the hand of Crime, + A paperweight, a milestone, or + A missile at Election time; + In each capacity I could + Do quite incalculable good. + + When well directed from the Pit, + I might promote a welcome death, + If fortunate enough to hit + Some budding Hamlet or Macbeth, + Who twice each day the playhouse fills,-- + (For further Notice See Small Bills). + + At concerts, too, if you prefer, + I could prevent your growing deaf, + By silencing the amateur + Before she reached that upper F.; + Or else, in lieu of half-a-brick, + Restrain some local Kubelik. + + Then, human stones, take my advice, + (As you should always do, indeed); + This proverb may be very nice, + But don't you pay it any heed, + And, tho' you make the critics cross, + Roll on, and never mind the moss. + + + + + "_After Dinner Sit a While; After + Supper Walk a Mile._" + + + After luncheon sit awhile, + 'Tis an admirable plan; + After dinner walk a mile-- + But make certain that you _can_. + (Were you not this maxim taught;-- + "Good is Wrought by want of Port.") + + After dinner think on this; + Join the ladies with a smile, + And remember that a Miss + Is as good as any mile. + (Thus you may be led to feel + What Amis felt for Amile.) + + Never fear of being shy + At the houses where you dine; + You'll recover by-and-bye, + With the second glass of wine; + And can recognize with bliss + That a Meal is not amiss. + + + + + "_It is Never Too Late to Mend._" + + + Since it can never be too late + To change your life, or else renew it, + Let the unpleasant process wait + Until you are _compelled_ to do it. + The State provides (and gratis too) + Establishments for such as you. + + Remember this, and pluck up heart, + That, be you publican or parson, + Your ev'ry art must have a start, + From petty larceny to arson; + And even in the burglar's trade, + The cracksman is not born, but made. + + So, if in your career of crime, + You fail to carry out some "coup", + Then try again a second time, + And yet again, until you _do_; + And don't despair, or fear the worst, + Because you get found out at first. + + Perhaps the battle will not go, + On all occasions, to the strongest; + You may be fairly certain tho' + That He Laughs Last who laughs the Longest. + So keep a good reserve of laughter, + Which may be found of use hereafter. + + Believe me that, howe'er well meant, + A Good Resolve is always brief; + Don't let your precious hours be spent + In turning over a new leaf. + Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay, + And then are only in the way. + + The Road to--well, a certain spot, + (A Road of very fair dimensions), + Has, so the proverb tells us, got + A parquet-floor of Good Intentions. + Take care, in your desire to please, + You do not add a brick to these. + + For there may come a moment when + You shall be mended willy-nilly, + With many more misguided men, + Whose skill is undermined with skilly. + Till then procrastinate, my friend; + "It _Never_ is Too Late to Mend!" + + + + + "_A Bad Workman Complains of his Tools._" + + + This Pen of mine is simply grand, + I never loved a pen so much; + This Paper (underneath my hand) + Is really a delight to touch; + And never in my life, I think, + Did I make use of finer ink. + + The Subject upon which I write + Is everything that I could choose; + I seldom knew my Wits more bright, + More cosmopolitan my Views; + Nor ever did my Head contain + So surplus a supply of Brain! + + + + + _Potpourri._ + + + There are many more Maxims to which + I would like to accord a front place, + But alas! I have got + To omit a whole lot, + For the lack of available space; + And the rest I am forced to boil down and condense + To the following Essence of Sound without Sense: + + + Now the Pitcher that journeys too oft + To the Well will get broken at last. + But you'll find it a fact + That, by using some tact, + Such a danger as this can be past. + (There's an obvious way, and a simple, you'll own, + Which is, if you're a Pitcher, to Let Well alone.) + + + Half a loafer is never well-bred, + And Self-Praise is a Dangerous Thing. + And the Mice are at play + When the Cat is away, + For a moment, inspecting a King. + (Tho' if Care kills a Cat, as the Proverbs declare, + It is right to suppose that the King will take care.) + + + Don't Halloo till you're out of the Wood, + When a Stitch in Good Time will save nine, + While a Bird in the Hand + Is worth Two, understand, + In the Bush that Needs no Good Wine. + (Tho' the two, if they _Can_ sing but Won't, have been known, + By an accurate aim to be killed with one Stone.) + + + Never Harness the Cart to the Horse; + Since the latter should be _à la carte_. + And Birds of a Feather + Come Flocking Together, + Because they can't well Flock Apart. + (You may cast any Bread on the Waters, I think, + But, unless I'm mistaken, you can't make it Sink.) + + + It is only the Fool who remarks + That there Can't be a Fire without Smoke; + Has he never yet learned + How the gas can be turned + On the best incombustible coke? + (Would you value a man by the checks on his suits, + And forget "_que c'est le premier passbook qui Coutts_?") + + + Now "_De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bo- + num_," is Latin, as ev'ryone owns; + If your domicile be + Near a Mortuaree, + You should always avoid throwing bones. + (I would further remark, if I could,--but I couldn't-- + That People Residing in Glasshouses shouldn't.) + + + You have heard of the Punctual Bird, + Who was First in presenting his Bill; + But I pray you'll be firm, + And remember the Worm + Had to get up much earlier still; + (So that, if you _can't_ rise in the morning, then Don't; + And be certain that Where there's a Will there's a Won't.) + + + You can give a bad name to a Dog, + And hang him by way of excuse; + Whereas Hunger, of course, + Is by far the Best Sauce + For the Gander as well as the Goose. + (But you shouldn't judge anyone just by his looks, + For a Surfeit of Broth ruins too many Cooks.) + + + With the fact that Necessity knows + Nine Points of the Law, you'll agree. + There are just as Good Fish + To be found on a Dish + As you ever could catch in the Sea. + (You should Look ere you Leap on a Weasel Asleep, + And I've also remarked That Still Daughters Run Cheap.) + + + The much trodden-on Lane _will_ Turn, + And a Friend is in Need of a Friend; + But the Wisest of Saws, + Like the Camel's Last Straws, + Or the Longest of Worms, have an end. + So, before out of Patience a Virtue you make, + A decisive farewell of these maxims we'll take. + + + + + _Envoi._ + + _"Don't Look a Gifthorse in the Mouth"_ + + + I knew a man, who lived down South; + He thought this maxim to defy; + He looked a Gifthorse in the Mouth; + The Gifthorse bit him in the Eye! + And, while the steed enjoyed his bite, + My Southern friend mislaid his sight. + + Now, had this foolish man, that day, + Observed the Gifthorse in the _Heel_, + It might have kicked his brains away, + But that's a loss he would not feel; + Because you see (need I explain?) + My Southern friend had got no brain. + + When anyone to you presents + A poodle, or a pocketknife, + A set of Ping-pong instruments, + A banjo or a Lady-wife, + 'Tis churlish, as I understand, + To grumble that they're second-hand. + + And he who termed Ingratitude + As "worser nor a servant's tooth" + Was evidently well imbued + With all the elements of Truth; + (While he who said "Uneasy lies + The tooth that wears a crown" was wise). + + "One must be poor," George Eliot said, + "To know the luxury of giving;" + So too one really should be dead + To realize the joy of living. + (I'd sooner be--I don't know which-- + I'd _like_ to be alive and rich!) + + _This_ book may be a Gifthorse too, + And one you surely ought to prize; + If so, I beg you, read it through + With kindly and uncaptious eyes, + Not grumbling because this particular line doesn't happen to scan, + And this one doesn't rhyme! + + + + + _Aftword._ + + + 'Tis done! We reach the final page, + With feelings of relief, I'm certain; + And there arrives at such a stage, + The moment to ring down the curtain. + (This metaphor is freely taken + From Shakespeare--or perhaps from Bacon.) + + The Book perused, our Future brings + A plethora of blank to-morrows, + When memories of Happier Things + Will be our Sorrow's Crown of Sorrows. + (I trust you recognize this line + As being Tennyson's, not mine.) + + My verses may indeed be few, + But are they not, to quote the poet, + "The sweetest things that ever grew + Beside a human door"? I know it. + (What an _in_human door would be, + Enquire of Wordsworth, please, not me.) + + 'Twas one of my most cherished dreams + To write a Moral Book some day; + What says the Bard? "The best laid schemes + Of Mice and Men gang aft agley!" + (The Bard here mentioned, by the bye, + Is Robbie Burns, of course--not I.) + + And tho' my pen records each thought + As swift as the phonetic Pitman, + Morality is not my "forte," + O Camarados! (_vide_ Whitman) + And, like the Porcupine, I still + Am forced to ply a fretful quill. + + We may be Master of our Fate, + (As Henley was inspired to mention) + Yet am I but the Second Mate + Upon the ss. "Good Intention"; + For me the course direct is lacking-- + I have to do a deal of tacking. + + To seek for Morals here's a task + Of which you well may be despairing; + "What has become of them?" you ask, + They've given us the slip--like Waring. + "Look East!" said Browning once, and I + Would make a similar reply. + + Look East, where in a garret drear, + The Author works, without cessation, + Composing verses for a mere- + ly nominal remuneration; + And, while he has the strength to write 'em, + Will do so still--_ad infinitum_. + + + + + FINIS. + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +The words 'bo-num' and 'mere-ly' were retained hyphenated at the ends of +lines to match the printed edition and maintain the poetical intent of +the author. + +Changed 'Heidsick' to 'Heidsieck.' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Perverted Proverbs, by +Harry Graham, (AKA Col. D. 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D. Streamer) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Perverted Proverbs + A Manual of Immorals for the Many + +Author: Harry Graham, (AKA Col. D. Streamer) + +Release Date: December 30, 2010 [EBook #34790] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERVERTED PROVERBS *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, Carol Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>PERVERTED<br /> +PROVERBS</h1> + +<h3><i>A MANUAL OF IMMORALS<br /> +FOR THE MANY</i></h3> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h2>COL. D. STREAMER</h2> + +<p class="center p2">Author of "Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless<br /> +Homes" "Ballads of the Boer War"<br /> +"The Baby's Baedeker"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a name="19"></a> <img src="images/logo.jpg" + width="150" height="182" alt="Illustration: Printer's Logo" + title="Printer's Logo" /> +</div> + +<h3>NEW YORK<br /> +<small>R. H. RUSSELL</small><br /> +1903</h3> + +<p class="center p4"><i>Copyright, 1903, by Robert Howard Russell</i><br /> +Published May, 1903.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h1 class="p4">PERVERTED PROVERBS</h1> + +<h3 class="p4"><i>Perverted Proverbs</i></h3> +<h5><i>Dedicated to</i></h5> +<h3><i>Helen Whitney</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Do you recall those bygone days,</span> + <span class="i0">When you received with kindly praise</span> + <span class="i2">My bantling book of Rhyme?</span> + <span class="i0">Praise undeserved, alas! and yet</span> + <span class="i0">How sweet! For, tho' we had not met,</span> + <span class="i2">(Ah! what a waste of time!)</span> + <span class="i0">I could the more enjoy such mercies</span> + <span class="i0">Since I delighted in <i>your</i> verses.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And when a Poet stoops to smile</span> + <span class="i0">On some one of the rank and file,</span> + <span class="i2">(Inglorious—if not mute,)</span> + <span class="i0">Some groundling bard who craves to climb,</span> + <span class="i0">Like me, the dizzy rungs of Rhyme,</span> + <span class="i2">To reach the Golden Fruit;</span> + <span class="i0">For one in such a situation</span> + <span class="i0">The faintest praise is no damnation.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Parnassus heights must surely pall;</span> + <span class="i0">For simpler diet do you call,</span> + <span class="i2">Of nectar growing tired?</span> + <span class="i0">These verses to your feet I bring,</span> + <span class="i0">Drawn from an unassuming spring,</span> + <span class="i2">Well-meant—if not inspired;</span> + <span class="i0">O charming Poet's charming daughter,</span> + <span class="i0">Descend and taste my toast and water!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">For you alone these lines I write,</span> + <span class="i0">That, reading them, your brow may light</span> + <span class="i2">Beneath its crown of bays;</span> + <span class="i0">Your eyes may sparkle like a star,</span> + <span class="i0">With friendship, that is dearer far</span> + <span class="i2">Than any breath of praise;</span> + <span class="i0">The which a lucky man possessing</span> + <span class="i0">Can ask no higher human blessing.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And, though the "salt estranging sea"</span> + <span class="i0">Be widely spread 'twixt you and me,</span> + <span class="i2">We have what makes amends;</span> + <span class="i0">And since I am so glad of you,</span> + <span class="i0">Be glad of me a little, too,</span> + <span class="i2">Because of being friends.</span> + <span class="i0">And, if I earn your approbation,</span> + <span class="i0">Accept my humble dedication.</span> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="quotsig">H. G.</p> + +<h3 class="p4"><i>Foreword</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">The Press may pass my Verses by</span> + <span class="i2">With sentiments of indignation,</span> + <span class="i0">And say, like Greeks of old, that I</span> + <span class="i2">Corrupt the Youthful Generation;</span> + <span class="i0">I am unmoved by taunts like these—</span> + <span class="i0">(And so, I think, was Socrates).</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Howe'er the Critics may revile,</span> + <span class="i2">I pick no journalistic quarrels,</span> + <span class="i0">Quite realizing that my Style</span> + <span class="i2">Makes up for any lack of Morals;</span> + <span class="i0">For which I feel no shred of shame—</span> + <span class="i0">(And Byron would have felt the same).</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">I don't intend a Child to read</span> + <span class="i2">These lines, which are not for the Young;</span> + <span class="i0">For, if I did, I should indeed</span> + <span class="i2">Feel fully worthy to be hung.</span> + <span class="i0">(Is "hanged" the perfect tense of "hang"?</span> + <span class="i0">Correct me, Mr. Andrew Lang!)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">O Young of Heart, tho' in your prime,</span> + <span class="i2">By you these Verses may be seen!</span> + <span class="i0">Accept the Moral with the Rhyme,</span> + <span class="i2">And try to gather what I mean.</span> + <span class="i0">But, if you can't, it won't hurt me!</span> + <span class="i0">(And Browning would, I know, agree.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Be reassured, I have not got</span> + <span class="i2">The style of Stephen Phillips' heroes,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor Henry Jones's pow'r of Plot,</span> + <span class="i2">Nor wit like Arthur Wing Pinero's!</span> + <span class="i0">(If so, I should not waste my time</span> + <span class="i0">In writing you this sort of rhyme.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">I strive to paint things as they Are,</span> + <span class="i2">Of Realism the true Apostle;</span> + <span class="i0">All flow'ry metaphors I bar,</span> + <span class="i2">Nor call the homely thrush a "throstle."</span> + <span class="i0">Such synonyms would make me smile.</span> + <span class="i0">(And so they would have made Carlyle.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">My Style may be at times, I own,</span> + <span class="i2">A trifle cryptic or abstruse;</span> + <span class="i0">In this I do not stand alone,</span> + <span class="i2">And need but mention, in excuse,</span> + <span class="i0">A thousand world-familiar names,</span> + <span class="i0">From Meredith to Henry James.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">From these my fruitless fancy roams</span> + <span class="i2">To seek the Ade of Modern Fable,</span> + <span class="i0">From Doyle's or Hemans' "Stately Ho(l)mes,"</span> + <span class="i2">To t'other of The Breakfast Table;</span> + <span class="i0">Like Galahad, I wish (in vain)</span> + <span class="i0">"My wit were as the wit of Twain!"</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Had I but Whitman's rugged skill,</span> + <span class="i2">(And managed to escape the Censor),</span> + <span class="i0">The Accuracy of a Mill,</span> + <span class="i2">The Reason of a Herbert Spencer,</span> + <span class="i0">The literary talents even</span> + <span class="i0">Of Sidney Lee or Leslie Stephen.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The pow'r of Patmore's placid pen,</span> + <span class="i2">Or Watson's gift of execration,</span> + <span class="i0">The sugar of Le Gallienne,</span> + <span class="i2">Or Algernon's Alliteration.</span> + <span class="i0">One post there is I'd not be lost in,</span> + <span class="i0">—Tho' I might find it most ex-austin'!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Some day, if I but study hard,</span> + <span class="i2">The public, vanquished by my pen'll</span> + <span class="i0">Acclaim me as a Minor Bard,</span> + <span class="i2">Like Norman Gale or Mrs. Meynell,</span> + <span class="i0">And listen to my lyre a-rippling</span> + <span class="i0">Imperial banjo-spasms like Kipling.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Were I a syndicate like K.</span> + <span class="i2">Or flippant scholar like Augustine;</span> + <span class="i0">Had I the style of Pater, say,</span> + <span class="i2">Which ev'ryone would put their trust in,</span> + <span class="i0">I'd love (as busy as a squirrel)</span> + <span class="i0">To pate, to kipple, and to birrel.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">So don't ignore me. If you should,</span> + <span class="i2">'Twill touch me to the very heart oh!</span> + <span class="i0">To be as much misunderstood</span> + <span class="i2">As once was Andrea del Sarto;</span> + <span class="i0">Unrecognized to toil away,</span> + <span class="i0">Like Millet—not, of course, Mill<i>ais</i>.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And, pray, for Morals do not look</span> + <span class="i2">In this unique agglomeration,</span> + <span class="i0">—This unpretentious little book</span> + <span class="i2">Of Infelicitous Quotation.</span> + <span class="i0">I deem you foolish if you do,</span> + <span class="i0">(And Mr. Russell thinks so, too).</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4"><i>"Virtue is Its Own Reward"</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Virtue its own reward? Alas!</span> + <span class="i2">And what a poor one as a rule!</span> + <span class="i0">Be Virtuous and Life will pass</span> + <span class="i2">Like one long term of Sunday-School.</span> + <span class="i0">(No prospect, truly, could one find</span> + <span class="i0">More unalluring to the mind.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">You may imagine that it pays</span> + <span class="i2">To practise Goodness. Not a bit!</span> + <span class="i0">You cease receiving any praise</span> + <span class="i2">When people have got used to it;</span> + <span class="i0">'Tis generally understood</span> + <span class="i0">You find it <i>easy</i> to be good.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Model Child has got to keep</span> + <span class="i2">His fingers and his garments white;</span> + <span class="i0">In church he may not go to sleep,</span> + <span class="i2">Nor ask to stop up late at night.</span> + <span class="i0">In fact he must not ever do</span> + <span class="i0">A single thing he wishes to.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He may not paddle in his boots,</span> + <span class="i2">Like naughty children, at the Sea;</span> + <span class="i0">The sweetness of Forbidden Fruits</span> + <span class="i2">Is not, alas! for such as he.</span> + <span class="i0">He watches, with pathetic eyes,</span> + <span class="i0">His weaker brethren make mud-pies.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He must not answer back, oh no!</span> + <span class="i2">However rude grown-ups may be,</span> + <span class="i0">But keep politely silent, tho'</span> + <span class="i2">He brim with scathing repartee;</span> + <span class="i0">For nothing is considered worse</span> + <span class="i0">Than scoring off Mamma or Nurse.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He must not eat too much at meals,</span> + <span class="i2">Nor scatter crumbs upon the floor;</span> + <span class="i0">However vacuous he feels,</span> + <span class="i2">He may not pass his plate for more;</span> + <span class="i0">—Not tho' his ev'ry organ ache</span> + <span class="i0">For further slabs of Christmas cake.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He is enjoined to choose his food</span> + <span class="i2">From what is easy to digest;</span> + <span class="i0">A choice which in itself is good,</span> + <span class="i2">But never what <i>he</i> likes the best.</span> + <span class="i0">(At times how madly he must wish</span> + <span class="i0">For just <i>one</i> real unwholesome dish!)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And, when the wretched urchin plays</span> + <span class="i2">With other little girls and boys,</span> + <span class="i0">He has to show unselfish ways</span> + <span class="i2">By giving them his choicest toys;</span> + <span class="i0">His ears he lets them freely box,</span> + <span class="i0">Or pull his lubricated locks.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">His face is always being washed,</span> + <span class="i2">His hair perpetually brushed,</span> + <span class="i0">And thus his brighter side is squashed,</span> + <span class="i2">His human instincts warped and crushed;</span> + <span class="i0">Small wonder that his early years</span> + <span class="i0">Are filled with "thoughts too deep for tears."</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He is commanded not to waste</span> + <span class="i2">The fleeting hours of childhood's days</span> + <span class="i0">By giving way to any taste</span> + <span class="i2">For circuses or matinées;</span> + <span class="i0">For him the entertainments planned</span> + <span class="i0">Are "Lectures on the Holy Land."</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He never reads a story book</span> + <span class="i2">By Rider H. or Winston C.,</span> + <span class="i0">In vain upon his desk you'd look</span> + <span class="i2">For tales by Richard Harding D.;</span> + <span class="i0">Nor could you find upon his shelf</span> + <span class="i0">The works of Rudyard—or myself!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He always fears that he may do</span> + <span class="i2">Some action that is <i>infra dig.</i>,</span> + <span class="i0">And so he lives his short life through</span> + <span class="i2">In the most noxious rôle of Prig.</span> + <span class="i0">("Short life" I say, for it's agreed</span> + <span class="i0">The Good die very young indeed.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Ah me! How sad it is to think</span> + <span class="i2">He could have lived like me—or you!</span> + <span class="i0">With practice and a taste for drink,</span> + <span class="i2">Our joys he might have known, he too!</span> + <span class="i0">And shared the pleasure <i>we</i> have had</span> + <span class="i0">In being gloriously bad!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Naughty Boy gets much delight</span> + <span class="i2">From doing what he should not do;</span> + <span class="i0">But, as such conduct isn't Right,</span> + <span class="i2">He sometimes suffers for it, too.</span> + <span class="i0">Yet, what's a spanking to the fun</span> + <span class="i0">Of leaving vital things Undone?</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">If he's notoriously bad,</span> + <span class="i2">But for a day should change his ways,</span> + <span class="i0">His parents will be all so glad,</span> + <span class="i2">They'll shower him with gifts and praise!</span> + <span class="i0">(It pays a connoisseur in crimes</span> + <span class="i0">To be a perfect saint at times.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Of course there always lies the chance</span> + <span class="i2">That he is charged with being ill,</span> + <span class="i0">And all his innocent romance</span> + <span class="i2">Is ruined by a rhubarb pill.</span> + <span class="i0">(Alas! 'Tis not alone the Good</span> + <span class="i0">That are so much misunderstood.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">But, as a rule, when he behaves</span> + <span class="i2">(Evincing no malarial signs),</span> + <span class="i0">His friends are all his faithful slaves,</span> + <span class="i2">Until he once again declines</span> + <span class="i0">With easy conscience, more or less,</span> + <span class="i0">To undiluted wickedness.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Wicked flourish like the bay,</span> + <span class="i2">At Cards or Love they always win,</span> + <span class="i0">Good Fortune dogs their steps all day,</span> + <span class="i2">They fatten while the Good grow thin.</span> + <span class="i0">The Righteous Man has much to bear;</span> + <span class="i0">The Bad becomes a Bullionaire!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">For, though he be the greatest sham,</span> + <span class="i2">Luck favours him his whole life through;</span> + <span class="i0">At "Bridge" he always makes a Slam</span> + <span class="i2">After declaring "Sans atout";</span> + <span class="i0">With ev'ry deal his fate has planned</span> + <span class="i0">A hundred Aces in his hand.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And it is always just the same;</span> + <span class="i2">He somehow manages to win,</span> + <span class="i0">By mere good fortune, any game</span> + <span class="i2">That he may be competing in.</span> + <span class="i0">At Golf no bunker breaks his club,</span> + <span class="i0">For him the green provides no "rub."</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">At Billiards, too, he flukes away</span> + <span class="i2">(With quite unnecessary "side");</span> + <span class="i0">No matter what he tries to play,</span> + <span class="i2">For him the pockets open wide;</span> + <span class="i0">He never finds both balls in baulk,</span> + <span class="i0">Or makes miss-cues for want of chalk.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">He swears; he very likely bets;</span> + <span class="i2">He even wears a flaming necktie;</span> + <span class="i0">Inhales Egyptian cigarettes</span> + <span class="i2">And has a "Mens Inconscia Recti";</span> + <span class="i0">Yet, spite of all, one must confess</span> + <span class="i0">That naught succeeds like his excess.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">There's no occasion to be Just,</span> + <span class="i2">No need for motives that are fine,</span> + <span class="i0">To be Director of a Trust,</span> + <span class="i2">Or Manager of a Combine;</span> + <span class="i0">Your corner is a public curse,</span> + <span class="i0">Perhaps; but it will fill your purse.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Then stride across the Public's bones,</span> + <span class="i2">Crush all opponents under you,</span> + <span class="i0">Until you "rise on stepping-stones</span> + <span class="i2">Of their dead selves"; and, when you do,</span> + <span class="i0">The widow's and the orphan's tears</span> + <span class="i0">Shall comfort your declining years!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">But having had your boom in oil,</span> + <span class="i2">And made your millions out of it,</span> + <span class="i0">Would you propose to cease from toil?</span> + <span class="i2">Great Vanderfeller! Not a bit!</span> + <span class="i0">You've <i>got</i> to labour, day and night,</span> + <span class="i0">Until you die—and serve you right!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Then, when you stop this frenzied race,</span> + <span class="i2">And others in your office sit,</span> + <span class="i0">You'll leave the world a better place,</span> + <span class="i2">—The better for your leaving it!</span> + <span class="i0">For there's a chance perhaps your heir</span> + <span class="i0">May spend what you've collected there.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Myself, how lucky I must be,</span> + <span class="i2">That need not fear so gross an end;</span> + <span class="i0">Since Fortune has not favoured me</span> + <span class="i2">With many million pounds to spend.</span> + <span class="i0">(Still, did that fickle Dame relent,</span> + <span class="i0">I'd show you how they <i>should</i> be spent!)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">I am not saint enough to feel</span> + <span class="i2">My shoulder ripen to a wing,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor have I wits enough to steal</span> + <span class="i2">His title from the Copper King;</span> + <span class="i0">And there's a vasty gulf between</span> + <span class="i0">The Man I Am and Might Have Been;</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">But tho' at dinner I may take</span> + <span class="i2">Too much of Heidsieck (extra dry),</span> + <span class="i0">And underneath the table make</span> + <span class="i2">My simple couch just where I lie,</span> + <span class="i0">My mode of roosting on the floor</span> + <span class="i0">Is just a trick and nothing more.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And when, not Wisely but too Well,</span> + <span class="i2">My thirst I have contrived to quench,</span> + <span class="i0">The stories I am apt to tell</span> + <span class="i2">May be, perhaps, a trifle French;</span> + <span class="i0">(For 'tis in anecdote, no doubt,</span> + <span class="i0">That what's Bred in the Beaune comes out.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">It does not render me unfit</span> + <span class="i2">To give advice, both wise and right,</span> + <span class="i0">Because I do not follow it</span> + <span class="i2">Myself as closely as I might;</span> + <span class="i0">There's nothing that I wouldn't do</span> + <span class="i0">To point the proper road to <i>you</i>.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And this I'm sure of, more or less,</span> + <span class="i2">And trust that you will all agree,</span> + <span class="i0">The Elements of Happiness</span> + <span class="i2">Consist in being—just like Me;</span> + <span class="i0">No sinner, nor a saint perhaps,</span> + <span class="i0">But—well, the very best of chaps.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Share the Experience I have had,</span> + <span class="i2">Consider all I've known and seen,</span> + <span class="i0">And Don't be Good, and Don't be Bad,</span> + <span class="i2">But cultivate a Golden Mean.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0"> * * * * * * *</span> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> + <span class="i0">What makes Existence <i>really</i> nice</span> + <span class="i0">Is Virtue—with a dash of Vice.</span> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>Enough is as Good as a Feast.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">What is Enough? An idle dream!</span> + <span class="i2">One cannot have enough, I swear,</span> + <span class="i0">Of Ices or Meringues-and-Cream,</span> + <span class="i2">Nougat or Chocolate Eclairs,</span> + <span class="i0">Of Oysters or of Caviar,</span> + <span class="i0">Of Prawns or Paté de Foie <i>Grar</i>!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Who would not willingly forsake</span> + <span class="i2">Kindred and Home, without a fuss,</span> + <span class="i0">For Icing from a Birthday Cake,</span> + <span class="i2">Or juicy fat Asparagus,</span> + <span class="i0">And journey over countless seas</span> + <span class="i0">For New Potatoes and Green Peas?</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">They say that a Contented Mind</span> + <span class="i2">Is a Continual Feast;—but where</span> + <span class="i0">The mental frame, and how to find,</span> + <span class="i2">Which can with Turtle Soup compare?</span> + <span class="i0">No mind, however full of Ease,</span> + <span class="i0">Could be Continual Toasted Cheese.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">For dinner have a sole to eat,</span> + <span class="i2">(Some Perrier Jouet, '92,)</span> + <span class="i0">An Entrée then (and, with the meat,</span> + <span class="i2">A bottle of Lafitte will do),</span> + <span class="i0">A quail, a glass of port (just one),</span> + <span class="i0">Liqueurs and coffee, and you've done.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">But should you want a hearty meal,</span> + <span class="i2">And not this gourmet's lightsome snack,</span> + <span class="i0">Fill up with terrapin and teal,</span> + <span class="i2">Clam chowder, crabs and canvasback;</span> + <span class="i0">With all varieties of sauce,</span> + <span class="i0">And diff'rent wines for ev'ry course.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Your tastes may be of simpler type;—</span> + <span class="i2">A homely glass of "half-and-half,"</span> + <span class="i0">An onion and a dish of tripe,</span> + <span class="i2">Or headpiece of the kindly calf.</span> + <span class="i0">(Cruel perhaps, but then, you know,</span> + <span class="i0">"'<i>Faut tout souffrir pour être veau!</i>")</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">'Tis a mistake to eat too much</span> + <span class="i2">Of any dishes but the best;</span> + <span class="i0">And you, of course, should never touch</span> + <span class="i2">A thing you <i>know</i> you can't digest;</span> + <span class="i0">For instance, lobster;—if you <i>do</i>,</span> + <span class="i0">Well,—I'm amayonnaised at you!</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Let this be your heraldic crest,</span> + <span class="i2">A bottle (chargé) of Champagne,</span> + <span class="i0">A chicken (gorged) with salad (dress'd),</span> + <span class="i2">Below, this motto to explain—</span> + <span class="i0">"Enough is Very Good, may be;</span> + <span class="i0">Too Much is Good Enough for Me!"</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>Don't Buy a Pig in a Poke.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Unscrupulous Pigmongers will</span> + <span class="i2">Attempt to wheedle and to coax</span> + <span class="i0">The ignorant young housewife till</span> + <span class="i2">She purchases her pigs in pokes;</span> + <span class="i0">Beasts that have got a Lurid Past,</span> + <span class="i0">Or else are far Too Good to Last.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">So, should you not desire to be</span> + <span class="i2">The victim of a cruel hoax,</span> + <span class="i0">Then promise me, ah! promise me,</span> + <span class="i2">You will not purchase pigs in pokes!</span> + <span class="i0">('Twould be an error just as big</span> + <span class="i0">To poke your purchase in a pig.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Too well I know the bitter cost,</span> + <span class="i2">To turn this subject off with jokes;</span> + <span class="i0">How many a fortune has been lost</span> + <span class="i2">By men who purchased pigs in pokes.</span> + <span class="i0">(Ah! think on such when you would talk</span> + <span class="i0">With mouths that are replete with pork!)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And, after dinner, round the fire,</span> + <span class="i2">Astride of Grandpa's rugged knee,</span> + <span class="i0">Implore your bored but patient sire</span> + <span class="i2">To tell you what a Poke may be.</span> + <span class="i0">The fact he might disclose to you—</span> + <span class="i0">Which is far more than <i>I</i> can do.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0"> * * * * * * *</span> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Moral of The Pigs and Pokes</span> + <span class="i2">Is not to make your choice too quick.</span> + <span class="i0">In purchasing a Book of Jokes,</span> + <span class="i2">Pray poke around and take your pick.</span> + <span class="i0">Who knows how rich a mental meal</span> + <span class="i0">The covers of <i>this</i> book conceal?</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>Learn to Take Things Easily.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">To these few words, it seems to me,</span> + <span class="i2">A wealth of sound instruction clings;</span> + <span class="i0">O Learn to Take things easily—</span> + <span class="i2">Espeshly Other People's Things;</span> + <span class="i0">And Time will make your fingers deft</span> + <span class="i0">At what is known as Petty Theft.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Your precious moments do not waste;</span> + <span class="i2">Take Ev'rything that isn't tied!</span> + <span class="i0">Who knows but you may have a Taste,</span> + <span class="i2">A Gift perhaps, for Homicide,—</span> + <span class="i0">(A Mania which, encouraged, thrives</span> + <span class="i0">On Taking Other People's Lives).</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">"Fools and Their Money soon must part!"</span> + <span class="i2">And you can help this on, may be,</span> + <span class="i0">If, in the kindness of your Heart,</span> + <span class="i2">You Learn to Take things easily;</span> + <span class="i0">And be, with little education,</span> + <span class="i0">A Prince of Misappropriation.</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">I never understood, I own,</span> + <span class="i2">What anybody (with a soul)</span> + <span class="i0">Could mean by offering a Stone</span> + <span class="i2">This needless warning not to Roll;</span> + <span class="i0">And what inducement there can be</span> + <span class="i0">To gather Moss I fail to see.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">I'd sooner gather anything,</span> + <span class="i2">Like primroses, or news perhaps,</span> + <span class="i0">Or even wool (when suffering</span> + <span class="i2">A momentary mental lapse);</span> + <span class="i0">But could forego my share of moss,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor ever realize the loss.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">'Tis a botanical disease,</span> + <span class="i2">And worthy of remark as such;</span> + <span class="i0">Lending a dignity to trees,</span> + <span class="i2">To ruins a romantic touch.</span> + <span class="i0">A timely adjunct, I've no doubt,</span> + <span class="i0">But not worth writing home about.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Of all the Stones I ever met,</span> + <span class="i2">In calm repose upon the ground,</span> + <span class="i0">I really never found one yet</span> + <span class="i2">With a desire to roll around;</span> + <span class="i0">Theirs is a stationary rôle,—</span> + <span class="i0">(A joke,—and feeble on the whole).</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">But, if I were a stone, I swear</span> + <span class="i2">I'd sooner move and view the World</span> + <span class="i0">Than sit and grow the greenest hair</span> + <span class="i2">That ever Nature combed and curled.</span> + <span class="i0">I see no single saving grace</span> + <span class="i0">In being known as "Mossyface!"</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Instead, I might prove useful for</span> + <span class="i2">A weapon in the hand of Crime,</span> + <span class="i0">A paperweight, a milestone, or</span> + <span class="i2">A missile at Election time;</span> + <span class="i0">In each capacity I could</span> + <span class="i0">Do quite incalculable good.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">When well directed from the Pit,</span> + <span class="i2">I might promote a welcome death,</span> + <span class="i0">If fortunate enough to hit</span> + <span class="i2">Some budding Hamlet or Macbeth,</span> + <span class="i0">Who twice each day the playhouse fills,—</span> + <span class="i0">(For further Notice See Small Bills).</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">At concerts, too, if you prefer,</span> + <span class="i2">I could prevent your growing deaf,</span> + <span class="i0">By silencing the amateur</span> + <span class="i2">Before she reached that upper F.;</span> + <span class="i0">Or else, in lieu of half-a-brick,</span> + <span class="i0">Restrain some local Kubelik.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Then, human stones, take my advice,</span> + <span class="i2">(As you should always do, indeed);</span> + <span class="i0">This proverb may be very nice,</span> + <span class="i2">But don't you pay it any heed,</span> + <span class="i0">And, tho' you make the critics cross,</span> + <span class="i0">Roll on, and never mind the moss.</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>After Dinner Sit a While; After +Supper Walk a Mile.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">After luncheon sit awhile,</span> + <span class="i2">'Tis an admirable plan;</span> + <span class="i0">After dinner walk a mile—</span> + <span class="i2">But make certain that you <i>can</i>.</span> + <span class="i0">(Were you not this maxim taught;—</span> + <span class="i0">"Good is Wrought by want of Port.")</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">After dinner think on this;</span> + <span class="i2">Join the ladies with a smile,</span> + <span class="i0">And remember that a Miss</span> + <span class="i2">Is as good as any mile.</span> + <span class="i0">(Thus you may be led to feel</span> + <span class="i0">What Amis felt for Amile.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Never fear of being shy</span> + <span class="i2">At the houses where you dine;</span> + <span class="i0">You'll recover by-and-bye,</span> + <span class="i2">With the second glass of wine;</span> + <span class="i0">And can recognize with bliss</span> + <span class="i0">That a Meal is not amiss.</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>It is Never Too Late to Mend.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Since it can never be too late</span> + <span class="i2">To change your life, or else renew it,</span> + <span class="i0">Let the unpleasant process wait</span> + <span class="i2">Until you are <i>compelled</i> to do it.</span> + <span class="i0">The State provides (and gratis too)</span> + <span class="i0">Establishments for such as you.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Remember this, and pluck up heart,</span> + <span class="i2">That, be you publican or parson,</span> + <span class="i0">Your ev'ry art must have a start,</span> + <span class="i2">From petty larceny to arson;</span> + <span class="i0">And even in the burglar's trade,</span> + <span class="i0">The cracksman is not born, but made.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">So, if in your career of crime,</span> + <span class="i2">You fail to carry out some "coup",</span> + <span class="i0">Then try again a second time,</span> + <span class="i2">And yet again, until you <i>do</i>;</span> + <span class="i0">And don't despair, or fear the worst,</span> + <span class="i0">Because you get found out at first.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Perhaps the battle will not go,</span> + <span class="i2">On all occasions, to the strongest;</span> + <span class="i0">You may be fairly certain tho'</span> + <span class="i2">That He Laughs Last who laughs the Longest.</span> + <span class="i0">So keep a good reserve of laughter,</span> + <span class="i0">Which may be found of use hereafter.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Believe me that, howe'er well meant,</span> + <span class="i2">A Good Resolve is always brief;</span> + <span class="i0">Don't let your precious hours be spent</span> + <span class="i2">In turning over a new leaf.</span> + <span class="i0">Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay,</span> + <span class="i0">And then are only in the way.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Road to—well, a certain spot,</span> + <span class="i2">(A Road of very fair dimensions),</span> + <span class="i0">Has, so the proverb tells us, got</span> + <span class="i2">A parquet-floor of Good Intentions.</span> + <span class="i0">Take care, in your desire to please,</span> + <span class="i0">You do not add a brick to these.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">For there may come a moment when</span> + <span class="i2">You shall be mended willy-nilly,</span> + <span class="i0">With many more misguided men,</span> + <span class="i2">Whose skill is undermined with skilly.</span> + <span class="i0">Till then procrastinate, my friend;</span> + <span class="i0">"It <i>Never</i> is Too Late to Mend!"</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">"<i>A Bad Workman Complains of his +Tools.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">This Pen of mine is simply grand,</span> + <span class="i2">I never loved a pen so much;</span> + <span class="i0">This Paper (underneath my hand)</span> + <span class="i2">Is really a delight to touch;</span> + <span class="i0">And never in my life, I think,</span> + <span class="i0">Did I make use of finer ink.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Subject upon which I write</span> + <span class="i2">Is everything that I could choose;</span> + <span class="i0">I seldom knew my Wits more bright,</span> + <span class="i2">More cosmopolitan my Views;</span> + <span class="i0">Nor ever did my Head contain</span> + <span class="i0">So surplus a supply of Brain!</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4"><i>Potpourri.</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">There are many more Maxims to which</span> + <span class="i2">I would like to accord a front place,</span> + <span class="i0">But alas! I have got</span> + <span class="i0">To omit a whole lot,</span> + <span class="i2">For the lack of available space;</span> + <span class="i0">And the rest I am forced to boil down and + condense</span> + <span class="i0">To the following Essence of Sound without + Sense:</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Now the Pitcher that journeys too oft</span> + <span class="i2">To the Well will get broken at last.</span> + <span class="i0">But you'll find it a fact</span> + <span class="i0">That, by using some tact,</span> + <span class="i2">Such a danger as this can be past.</span> + <span class="i0">(There's an obvious way, and a simple, you'll + own,</span> + <span class="i0">Which is, if you're a Pitcher, to Let Well + alone.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Half a loafer is never well-bred,</span> + <span class="i2">And Self-Praise is a Dangerous Thing.</span> + <span class="i0">And the Mice are at play</span> + <span class="i0">When the Cat is away,</span> + <span class="i2">For a moment, inspecting a King.</span> + <span class="i0">(Tho' if Care kills a Cat, as the Proverbs + declare,</span> + <span class="i0">It is right to suppose that the King will take + care.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Don't Halloo till you're out of the Wood,</span> + <span class="i2">When a Stitch in Good Time will save nine,</span> + <span class="i0">While a Bird in the Hand</span> + <span class="i0">Is worth Two, understand,</span> + <span class="i2">In the Bush that Needs no Good Wine.</span> + <span class="i0">(Tho' the two, if they <i>Can</i> sing but Won't, + have been known,</span> + <span class="i0">By an accurate aim to be killed with one Stone.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Never Harness the Cart to the Horse;</span> + <span class="i2">Since the latter should be <i>à la carte</i>.</span> + <span class="i0">And Birds of a Feather</span> + <span class="i0">Come Flocking Together,</span> + <span class="i2">Because they can't well Flock Apart.</span> + <span class="i0">(You may cast any Bread on the Waters, I think,</span> + <span class="i0">But, unless I'm mistaken, you can't make it + Sink.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">It is only the Fool who remarks</span> + <span class="i2">That there Can't be a Fire without Smoke;</span> + <span class="i0">Has he never yet learned</span> + <span class="i0">How the gas can be turned</span> + <span class="i2">On the best incombustible coke?</span> + <span class="i0">(Would you value a man by the checks on his + suits,</span> + <span class="i0">And forget "<i>que c'est le premier passbook qui + Coutts</i>?")</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">Now "<i>De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bo-</i></span> + <span class="i2"><i>num</i>," is Latin, as ev'ryone owns;</span> + <span class="i0">If your domicile be</span> + <span class="i0">Near a Mortuaree,</span> + <span class="i2">You should always avoid throwing bones.</span> + <span class="i0">(I would further remark, if I could,—but I + couldn't—</span> + <span class="i0">That People Residing in Glasshouses shouldn't.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">You have heard of the Punctual Bird,</span> + <span class="i2">Who was First in presenting his Bill;</span> + <span class="i0">But I pray you'll be firm,</span> + <span class="i0">And remember the Worm</span> + <span class="i2">Had to get up much earlier still;</span> + <span class="i0">(So that, if you <i>can't</i> rise in the morning, + then Don't;</span> + <span class="i0">And be certain that Where there's a Will there's a + Won't.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">You can give a bad name to a Dog,</span> + <span class="i2">And hang him by way of excuse;</span> + <span class="i0">Whereas Hunger, of course,</span> + <span class="i0">Is by far the Best Sauce</span> + <span class="i2">For the Gander as well as the Goose.</span> + <span class="i0">(But you shouldn't judge anyone just by his looks,</span> + <span class="i0">For a Surfeit of Broth ruins too many Cooks.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">With the fact that Necessity knows</span> + <span class="i2">Nine Points of the Law, you'll agree.</span> + <span class="i0">There are just as Good Fish</span> + <span class="i0">To be found on a Dish</span> + <span class="i2">As you ever could catch in the Sea.</span> + <span class="i0">(You should Look ere you Leap on a Weasel Asleep,</span> + <span class="i0">And I've also remarked That Still Daughters Run + Cheap.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">The much trodden-on Lane <i>will</i> Turn,</span> + <span class="i2">And a Friend is in Need of a Friend;</span> + <span class="i0">But the Wisest of Saws,</span> + <span class="i0">Like the Camel's Last Straws,</span> + <span class="i2">Or the Longest of Worms, have an end.</span> + <span class="i0">So, before out of Patience a Virtue you make,</span> + <span class="i0">A decisive farewell of these maxims we'll take.</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4"><i>Envoi.</i></h3> + +<p class="center"><i>"Don't Look a Gifthorse in the Mouth"</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">I knew a man, who lived down South;</span> + <span class="i2">He thought this maxim to defy;</span> + <span class="i0">He looked a Gifthorse in the Mouth;</span> + <span class="i2">The Gifthorse bit him in the Eye!</span> + <span class="i0">And, while the steed enjoyed his bite,</span> + <span class="i0">My Southern friend mislaid his sight.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Now, had this foolish man, that day,</span> + <span class="i2">Observed the Gifthorse in the <i>Heel</i>,</span> + <span class="i0">It might have kicked his brains away,</span> + <span class="i2">But that's a loss he would not feel;</span> + <span class="i0">Because you see (need I explain?)</span> + <span class="i0">My Southern friend had got no brain.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">When anyone to you presents</span> + <span class="i2">A poodle, or a pocketknife,</span> + <span class="i0">A set of Ping-pong instruments,</span> + <span class="i2">A banjo or a Lady-wife,</span> + <span class="i0">'Tis churlish, as I understand,</span> + <span class="i0">To grumble that they're second-hand.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And he who termed Ingratitude</span> + <span class="i2">As "worser nor a servant's tooth"</span> + <span class="i0">Was evidently well imbued</span> + <span class="i2">With all the elements of Truth;</span> + <span class="i0">(While he who said "Uneasy lies</span> + <span class="i0">The tooth that wears a crown" was wise).</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">"One must be poor," George Eliot said,</span> + <span class="i2">"To know the luxury of giving;"</span> + <span class="i0">So too one really should be dead</span> + <span class="i2">To realize the joy of living.</span> + <span class="i0">(I'd sooner be—I don't know which—</span> + <span class="i0">I'd <i>like</i> to be alive and rich!)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0"><i>This</i> book may be a Gifthorse too,</span> + <span class="i2">And one you surely ought to prize;</span> + <span class="i0">If so, I beg you, read it through</span> + <span class="i2">With kindly and uncaptious eyes,</span> + <span class="i0">Not grumbling because this particular line doesn't + happen to scan,</span> + <span class="i0">And this one doesn't rhyme!</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4"><i>Aftword.</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i1">'Tis done! We reach the final page,</span> + <span class="i2">With feelings of relief, I'm certain;</span> + <span class="i0">And there arrives at such a stage,</span> + <span class="i2">The moment to ring down the curtain.</span> + <span class="i0">(This metaphor is freely taken</span> + <span class="i0">From Shakespeare—or perhaps from Bacon.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">The Book perused, our Future brings</span> + <span class="i2">A plethora of blank to-morrows,</span> + <span class="i0">When memories of Happier Things</span> + <span class="i2">Will be our Sorrow's Crown of Sorrows.</span> + <span class="i0">(I trust you recognize this line</span> + <span class="i0">As being Tennyson's, not mine.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">My verses may indeed be few,</span> + <span class="i2">But are they not, to quote the poet,</span> + <span class="i0">"The sweetest things that ever grew</span> + <span class="i2">Beside a human door"? I know it.</span> + <span class="i0">(What an <i>in</i>human door would be,</span> + <span class="i0">Enquire of Wordsworth, please, not me.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">'Twas one of my most cherished dreams</span> + <span class="i2">To write a Moral Book some day;</span> + <span class="i0">What says the Bard? "The best laid schemes</span> + <span class="i2">Of Mice and Men gang aft agley!"</span> + <span class="i0">(The Bard here mentioned, by the bye,</span> + <span class="i0">Is Robbie Burns, of course—not I.)</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">And tho' my pen records each thought</span> + <span class="i2">As swift as the phonetic Pitman,</span> + <span class="i0">Morality is not my "forte,"</span> + <span class="i2">O Camarados! (<i>vide</i> Whitman)</span> + <span class="i0">And, like the Porcupine, I still</span> + <span class="i0">Am forced to ply a fretful quill.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">We may be Master of our Fate,</span> + <span class="i2">(As Henley was inspired to mention)</span> + <span class="i0">Yet am I but the Second Mate</span> + <span class="i2">Upon the ss. "Good Intention";</span> + <span class="i0">For me the course direct is lacking—</span> + <span class="i0">I have to do a deal of tacking.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">To seek for Morals here's a task</span> + <span class="i2">Of which you well may be despairing;</span> + <span class="i0">"What has become of them?" you ask,</span> + <span class="i2">They've given us the slip—like Waring.</span> + <span class="i0">"Look East!" said Browning once, and I</span> + <span class="i0">Would make a similar reply.</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Look East, where in a garret drear,</span> + <span class="i2">The Author works, without cessation,</span> + <span class="i0">Composing verses for a mere-</span> + <span class="i2">ly nominal remuneration;</span> + <span class="i0">And, while he has the strength to write 'em,</span> + <span class="i0">Will do so still—<i>ad infinitum</i>.</span> + </div> +</div> + +<h3 class="p4">FINIS.</h3> + +<p class="p4"></p> + +<div class='tnote'> <h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>The words 'bo-num' and 'mere-ly' were retained hyphenated at the ends +of lines to match the printed edition and maintain the poetical intent +of the author.</p> +<p>Changed 'Heidsick' to 'Heidsieck.'</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Perverted Proverbs, by +Harry Graham, (AKA Col. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Perverted Proverbs + A Manual of Immorals for the Many + +Author: Harry Graham, (AKA Col. D. Streamer) + +Release Date: December 30, 2010 [EBook #34790] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERVERTED PROVERBS *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, Carol Brown and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + PERVERTED + PROVERBS + + _A MANUAL OF IMMORALS + FOR THE MANY_ + BY + COL. D. STREAMER + + Author of "Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless + Homes" "Ballads of the Boer War" + "The Baby's Baedeker" + + [Illustration: printer's logo] + + NEW YORK + R. H. RUSSELL + 1903 + + _Copyright, 1903, by Robert Howard Russell_ + Published May, 1903. + + + + + PERVERTED PROVERBS + + + + + _Perverted Proverbs_ + + _Dedicated to + Helen Whitney_ + + + Do you recall those bygone days, + When you received with kindly praise + My bantling book of Rhyme? + Praise undeserved, alas! and yet + How sweet! For, tho' we had not met, + (Ah! what a waste of time!) + I could the more enjoy such mercies + Since I delighted in _your_ verses. + + And when a Poet stoops to smile + On some one of the rank and file, + (Inglorious--if not mute,) + Some groundling bard who craves to climb, + Like me, the dizzy rungs of Rhyme, + To reach the Golden Fruit; + For one in such a situation + The faintest praise is no damnation. + + Parnassus heights must surely pall; + For simpler diet do you call, + Of nectar growing tired? + These verses to your feet I bring, + Drawn from an unassuming spring, + Well-meant--if not inspired; + O charming Poet's charming daughter, + Descend and taste my toast and water! + + For you alone these lines I write, + That, reading them, your brow may light + Beneath its crown of bays; + Your eyes may sparkle like a star, + With friendship, that is dearer far + Than any breath of praise; + The which a lucky man possessing + Can ask no higher human blessing. + + And, though the "salt estranging sea" + Be widely spread 'twixt you and me, + We have what makes amends; + And since I am so glad of you, + Be glad of me a little, too, + Because of being friends. + And, if I earn your approbation, + Accept my humble dedication. + + H. G. + + + + + _Foreword_ + + + The Press may pass my Verses by + With sentiments of indignation, + And say, like Greeks of old, that I + Corrupt the Youthful Generation; + I am unmoved by taunts like these-- + (And so, I think, was Socrates). + + Howe'er the Critics may revile, + I pick no journalistic quarrels, + Quite realizing that my Style + Makes up for any lack of Morals; + For which I feel no shred of shame-- + (And Byron would have felt the same). + + I don't intend a Child to read + These lines, which are not for the Young; + For, if I did, I should indeed + Feel fully worthy to be hung. + (Is "hanged" the perfect tense of "hang"? + Correct me, Mr. Andrew Lang!) + + O Young of Heart, tho' in your prime, + By you these Verses may be seen! + Accept the Moral with the Rhyme, + And try to gather what I mean. + But, if you can't, it won't hurt me! + (And Browning would, I know, agree.) + + Be reassured, I have not got + The style of Stephen Phillips' heroes, + Nor Henry Jones's pow'r of Plot, + Nor wit like Arthur Wing Pinero's! + (If so, I should not waste my time + In writing you this sort of rhyme.) + + I strive to paint things as they Are, + Of Realism the true Apostle; + All flow'ry metaphors I bar, + Nor call the homely thrush a "throstle." + Such synonyms would make me smile. + (And so they would have made Carlyle.) + + My Style may be at times, I own, + A trifle cryptic or abstruse; + In this I do not stand alone, + And need but mention, in excuse, + A thousand world-familiar names, + From Meredith to Henry James. + + From these my fruitless fancy roams + To seek the Ade of Modern Fable, + From Doyle's or Hemans' "Stately Ho(l)mes," + To t'other of The Breakfast Table; + Like Galahad, I wish (in vain) + "My wit were as the wit of Twain!" + + Had I but Whitman's rugged skill, + (And managed to escape the Censor), + The Accuracy of a Mill, + The Reason of a Herbert Spencer, + The literary talents even + Of Sidney Lee or Leslie Stephen. + + The pow'r of Patmore's placid pen, + Or Watson's gift of execration, + The sugar of Le Gallienne, + Or Algernon's Alliteration. + One post there is I'd not be lost in, + --Tho' I might find it most ex-austin'! + + Some day, if I but study hard, + The public, vanquished by my pen'll + Acclaim me as a Minor Bard, + Like Norman Gale or Mrs. Meynell, + And listen to my lyre a-rippling + Imperial banjo-spasms like Kipling. + + Were I a syndicate like K. + Or flippant scholar like Augustine; + Had I the style of Pater, say, + Which ev'ryone would put their trust in, + I'd love (as busy as a squirrel) + To pate, to kipple, and to birrel. + + So don't ignore me. If you should, + 'Twill touch me to the very heart oh! + To be as much misunderstood + As once was Andrea del Sarto; + Unrecognized to toil away, + Like Millet--not, of course, Mill_ais_. + + And, pray, for Morals do not look + In this unique agglomeration, + --This unpretentious little book + Of Infelicitous Quotation. + I deem you foolish if you do, + (And Mr. Russell thinks so, too). + + + + + _"Virtue is Its Own Reward"_ + + + Virtue its own reward? Alas! + And what a poor one as a rule! + Be Virtuous and Life will pass + Like one long term of Sunday-School. + (No prospect, truly, could one find + More unalluring to the mind.) + + You may imagine that it pays + To practise Goodness. Not a bit! + You cease receiving any praise + When people have got used to it; + 'Tis generally understood + You find it _easy_ to be good. + + The Model Child has got to keep + His fingers and his garments white; + In church he may not go to sleep, + Nor ask to stop up late at night. + In fact he must not ever do + A single thing he wishes to. + + He may not paddle in his boots, + Like naughty children, at the Sea; + The sweetness of Forbidden Fruits + Is not, alas! for such as he. + He watches, with pathetic eyes, + His weaker brethren make mud-pies. + + He must not answer back, oh no! + However rude grown-ups may be, + But keep politely silent, tho' + He brim with scathing repartee; + For nothing is considered worse + Than scoring off Mamma or Nurse. + + He must not eat too much at meals, + Nor scatter crumbs upon the floor; + However vacuous he feels, + He may not pass his plate for more; + --Not tho' his ev'ry organ ache + For further slabs of Christmas cake. + + He is enjoined to choose his food + From what is easy to digest; + A choice which in itself is good, + But never what _he_ likes the best. + (At times how madly he must wish + For just _one_ real unwholesome dish!) + + And, when the wretched urchin plays + With other little girls and boys, + He has to show unselfish ways + By giving them his choicest toys; + His ears he lets them freely box, + Or pull his lubricated locks. + + His face is always being washed, + His hair perpetually brushed, + And thus his brighter side is squashed, + His human instincts warped and crushed; + Small wonder that his early years + Are filled with "thoughts too deep for tears." + + He is commanded not to waste + The fleeting hours of childhood's days + By giving way to any taste + For circuses or matinees; + For him the entertainments planned + Are "Lectures on the Holy Land." + + He never reads a story book + By Rider H. or Winston C., + In vain upon his desk you'd look + For tales by Richard Harding D.; + Nor could you find upon his shelf + The works of Rudyard--or myself! + + He always fears that he may do + Some action that is _infra dig._, + And so he lives his short life through + In the most noxious role of Prig. + ("Short life" I say, for it's agreed + The Good die very young indeed.) + + Ah me! How sad it is to think + He could have lived like me--or you! + With practice and a taste for drink, + Our joys he might have known, he too! + And shared the pleasure _we_ have had + In being gloriously bad! + + The Naughty Boy gets much delight + From doing what he should not do; + But, as such conduct isn't Right, + He sometimes suffers for it, too. + Yet, what's a spanking to the fun + Of leaving vital things Undone? + + If he's notoriously bad, + But for a day should change his ways, + His parents will be all so glad, + They'll shower him with gifts and praise! + (It pays a connoisseur in crimes + To be a perfect saint at times.) + + Of course there always lies the chance + That he is charged with being ill, + And all his innocent romance + Is ruined by a rhubarb pill. + (Alas! 'Tis not alone the Good + That are so much misunderstood.) + + But, as a rule, when he behaves + (Evincing no malarial signs), + His friends are all his faithful slaves, + Until he once again declines + With easy conscience, more or less, + To undiluted wickedness. + + The Wicked flourish like the bay, + At Cards or Love they always win, + Good Fortune dogs their steps all day, + They fatten while the Good grow thin. + The Righteous Man has much to bear; + The Bad becomes a Bullionaire! + + For, though he be the greatest sham, + Luck favours him his whole life through; + At "Bridge" he always makes a Slam + After declaring "Sans atout"; + With ev'ry deal his fate has planned + A hundred Aces in his hand. + + And it is always just the same; + He somehow manages to win, + By mere good fortune, any game + That he may be competing in. + At Golf no bunker breaks his club, + For him the green provides no "rub." + + At Billiards, too, he flukes away + (With quite unnecessary "side"); + No matter what he tries to play, + For him the pockets open wide; + He never finds both balls in baulk, + Or makes miss-cues for want of chalk. + + He swears; he very likely bets; + He even wears a flaming necktie; + Inhales Egyptian cigarettes + And has a "Mens Inconscia Recti"; + Yet, spite of all, one must confess + That naught succeeds like his excess. + + There's no occasion to be Just, + No need for motives that are fine, + To be Director of a Trust, + Or Manager of a Combine; + Your corner is a public curse, + Perhaps; but it will fill your purse. + + Then stride across the Public's bones, + Crush all opponents under you, + Until you "rise on stepping-stones + Of their dead selves"; and, when you do, + The widow's and the orphan's tears + Shall comfort your declining years! + + But having had your boom in oil, + And made your millions out of it, + Would you propose to cease from toil? + Great Vanderfeller! Not a bit! + You've _got_ to labour, day and night, + Until you die--and serve you right! + + Then, when you stop this frenzied race, + And others in your office sit, + You'll leave the world a better place, + --The better for your leaving it! + For there's a chance perhaps your heir + May spend what you've collected there. + + Myself, how lucky I must be, + That need not fear so gross an end; + Since Fortune has not favoured me + With many million pounds to spend. + (Still, did that fickle Dame relent, + I'd show you how they _should_ be spent!) + + I am not saint enough to feel + My shoulder ripen to a wing, + Nor have I wits enough to steal + His title from the Copper King; + And there's a vasty gulf between + The Man I Am and Might Have Been; + + But tho' at dinner I may take + Too much of Heidsieck (extra dry), + And underneath the table make + My simple couch just where I lie, + My mode of roosting on the floor + Is just a trick and nothing more. + + And when, not Wisely but too Well, + My thirst I have contrived to quench, + The stories I am apt to tell + May be, perhaps, a trifle French; + (For 'tis in anecdote, no doubt, + That what's Bred in the Beaune comes out.) + + It does not render me unfit + To give advice, both wise and right, + Because I do not follow it + Myself as closely as I might; + There's nothing that I wouldn't do + To point the proper road to _you_. + + And this I'm sure of, more or less, + And trust that you will all agree, + The Elements of Happiness + Consist in being--just like Me; + No sinner, nor a saint perhaps, + But--well, the very best of chaps. + + Share the Experience I have had, + Consider all I've known and seen, + And Don't be Good, and Don't be Bad, + But cultivate a Golden Mean. + + * * * * * + + What makes Existence _really_ nice + Is Virtue--with a dash of Vice. + + + + + "_Enough is as Good as a Feast._" + + + What is Enough? An idle dream! + One cannot have enough, I swear, + Of Ices or Meringues-and-Cream, + Nougat or Chocolate Eclairs, + Of Oysters or of Caviar, + Of Prawns or Pate de Foie _Grar_! + + Who would not willingly forsake + Kindred and Home, without a fuss, + For Icing from a Birthday Cake, + Or juicy fat Asparagus, + And journey over countless seas + For New Potatoes and Green Peas? + + They say that a Contented Mind + Is a Continual Feast;--but where + The mental frame, and how to find, + Which can with Turtle Soup compare? + No mind, however full of Ease, + Could be Continual Toasted Cheese. + + For dinner have a sole to eat, + (Some Perrier Jouet, '92,) + An Entree then (and, with the meat, + A bottle of Lafitte will do), + A quail, a glass of port (just one), + Liqueurs and coffee, and you've done. + + But should you want a hearty meal, + And not this gourmet's lightsome snack, + Fill up with terrapin and teal, + Clam chowder, crabs and canvasback; + With all varieties of sauce, + And diff'rent wines for ev'ry course. + + Your tastes may be of simpler type;-- + A homely glass of "half-and-half," + An onion and a dish of tripe, + Or headpiece of the kindly calf. + (Cruel perhaps, but then, you know, + "_'Faut tout souffrir pour etre veau!_") + + 'Tis a mistake to eat too much + Of any dishes but the best; + And you, of course, should never touch + A thing you _know_ you can't digest; + For instance, lobster;--if you _do_, + Well,--I'm amayonnaised at you! + + Let this be your heraldic crest, + A bottle (charge) of Champagne, + A chicken (gorged) with salad (dress'd), + Below, this motto to explain-- + "Enough is Very Good, may be; + Too Much is Good Enough for Me!" + + + + + "_Don't Buy a Pig in a Poke._" + + + Unscrupulous Pigmongers will + Attempt to wheedle and to coax + The ignorant young housewife till + She purchases her pigs in pokes; + Beasts that have got a Lurid Past, + Or else are far Too Good to Last. + + So, should you not desire to be + The victim of a cruel hoax, + Then promise me, ah! promise me, + You will not purchase pigs in pokes! + ('Twould be an error just as big + To poke your purchase in a pig.) + + Too well I know the bitter cost, + To turn this subject off with jokes; + How many a fortune has been lost + By men who purchased pigs in pokes. + (Ah! think on such when you would talk + With mouths that are replete with pork!) + + And, after dinner, round the fire, + Astride of Grandpa's rugged knee, + Implore your bored but patient sire + To tell you what a Poke may be. + The fact he might disclose to you-- + Which is far more than _I_ can do. + + * * * * * + + The Moral of The Pigs and Pokes + Is not to make your choice too quick. + In purchasing a Book of Jokes, + Pray poke around and take your pick. + Who knows how rich a mental meal + The covers of _this_ book conceal? + + + + + "_Learn to Take Things Easily._" + + + To these few words, it seems to me, + A wealth of sound instruction clings; + O Learn to Take things easily-- + Espeshly Other People's Things; + And Time will make your fingers deft + At what is known as Petty Theft. + + Your precious moments do not waste; + Take Ev'rything that isn't tied! + Who knows but you may have a Taste, + A Gift perhaps, for Homicide,-- + (A Mania which, encouraged, thrives + On Taking Other People's Lives). + + "Fools and Their Money soon must part!" + And you can help this on, may be, + If, in the kindness of your Heart, + You Learn to Take things easily; + And be, with little education, + A Prince of Misappropriation. + + + + + "_A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss._" + + + I never understood, I own, + What anybody (with a soul) + Could mean by offering a Stone + This needless warning not to Roll; + And what inducement there can be + To gather Moss I fail to see. + + I'd sooner gather anything, + Like primroses, or news perhaps, + Or even wool (when suffering + A momentary mental lapse); + But could forego my share of moss, + Nor ever realize the loss. + + 'Tis a botanical disease, + And worthy of remark as such; + Lending a dignity to trees, + To ruins a romantic touch. + A timely adjunct, I've no doubt, + But not worth writing home about. + + Of all the Stones I ever met, + In calm repose upon the ground, + I really never found one yet + With a desire to roll around; + Theirs is a stationary role,-- + (A joke,--and feeble on the whole). + + But, if I were a stone, I swear + I'd sooner move and view the World + Than sit and grow the greenest hair + That ever Nature combed and curled. + I see no single saving grace + In being known as "Mossyface!" + + Instead, I might prove useful for + A weapon in the hand of Crime, + A paperweight, a milestone, or + A missile at Election time; + In each capacity I could + Do quite incalculable good. + + When well directed from the Pit, + I might promote a welcome death, + If fortunate enough to hit + Some budding Hamlet or Macbeth, + Who twice each day the playhouse fills,-- + (For further Notice See Small Bills). + + At concerts, too, if you prefer, + I could prevent your growing deaf, + By silencing the amateur + Before she reached that upper F.; + Or else, in lieu of half-a-brick, + Restrain some local Kubelik. + + Then, human stones, take my advice, + (As you should always do, indeed); + This proverb may be very nice, + But don't you pay it any heed, + And, tho' you make the critics cross, + Roll on, and never mind the moss. + + + + + "_After Dinner Sit a While; After + Supper Walk a Mile._" + + + After luncheon sit awhile, + 'Tis an admirable plan; + After dinner walk a mile-- + But make certain that you _can_. + (Were you not this maxim taught;-- + "Good is Wrought by want of Port.") + + After dinner think on this; + Join the ladies with a smile, + And remember that a Miss + Is as good as any mile. + (Thus you may be led to feel + What Amis felt for Amile.) + + Never fear of being shy + At the houses where you dine; + You'll recover by-and-bye, + With the second glass of wine; + And can recognize with bliss + That a Meal is not amiss. + + + + + "_It is Never Too Late to Mend._" + + + Since it can never be too late + To change your life, or else renew it, + Let the unpleasant process wait + Until you are _compelled_ to do it. + The State provides (and gratis too) + Establishments for such as you. + + Remember this, and pluck up heart, + That, be you publican or parson, + Your ev'ry art must have a start, + From petty larceny to arson; + And even in the burglar's trade, + The cracksman is not born, but made. + + So, if in your career of crime, + You fail to carry out some "coup", + Then try again a second time, + And yet again, until you _do_; + And don't despair, or fear the worst, + Because you get found out at first. + + Perhaps the battle will not go, + On all occasions, to the strongest; + You may be fairly certain tho' + That He Laughs Last who laughs the Longest. + So keep a good reserve of laughter, + Which may be found of use hereafter. + + Believe me that, howe'er well meant, + A Good Resolve is always brief; + Don't let your precious hours be spent + In turning over a new leaf. + Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay, + And then are only in the way. + + The Road to--well, a certain spot, + (A Road of very fair dimensions), + Has, so the proverb tells us, got + A parquet-floor of Good Intentions. + Take care, in your desire to please, + You do not add a brick to these. + + For there may come a moment when + You shall be mended willy-nilly, + With many more misguided men, + Whose skill is undermined with skilly. + Till then procrastinate, my friend; + "It _Never_ is Too Late to Mend!" + + + + + "_A Bad Workman Complains of his Tools._" + + + This Pen of mine is simply grand, + I never loved a pen so much; + This Paper (underneath my hand) + Is really a delight to touch; + And never in my life, I think, + Did I make use of finer ink. + + The Subject upon which I write + Is everything that I could choose; + I seldom knew my Wits more bright, + More cosmopolitan my Views; + Nor ever did my Head contain + So surplus a supply of Brain! + + + + + _Potpourri._ + + + There are many more Maxims to which + I would like to accord a front place, + But alas! I have got + To omit a whole lot, + For the lack of available space; + And the rest I am forced to boil down and condense + To the following Essence of Sound without Sense: + + + Now the Pitcher that journeys too oft + To the Well will get broken at last. + But you'll find it a fact + That, by using some tact, + Such a danger as this can be past. + (There's an obvious way, and a simple, you'll own, + Which is, if you're a Pitcher, to Let Well alone.) + + + Half a loafer is never well-bred, + And Self-Praise is a Dangerous Thing. + And the Mice are at play + When the Cat is away, + For a moment, inspecting a King. + (Tho' if Care kills a Cat, as the Proverbs declare, + It is right to suppose that the King will take care.) + + + Don't Halloo till you're out of the Wood, + When a Stitch in Good Time will save nine, + While a Bird in the Hand + Is worth Two, understand, + In the Bush that Needs no Good Wine. + (Tho' the two, if they _Can_ sing but Won't, have been known, + By an accurate aim to be killed with one Stone.) + + + Never Harness the Cart to the Horse; + Since the latter should be _a la carte_. + And Birds of a Feather + Come Flocking Together, + Because they can't well Flock Apart. + (You may cast any Bread on the Waters, I think, + But, unless I'm mistaken, you can't make it Sink.) + + + It is only the Fool who remarks + That there Can't be a Fire without Smoke; + Has he never yet learned + How the gas can be turned + On the best incombustible coke? + (Would you value a man by the checks on his suits, + And forget "_que c'est le premier passbook qui Coutts_?") + + + Now "_De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bo- + num_," is Latin, as ev'ryone owns; + If your domicile be + Near a Mortuaree, + You should always avoid throwing bones. + (I would further remark, if I could,--but I couldn't-- + That People Residing in Glasshouses shouldn't.) + + + You have heard of the Punctual Bird, + Who was First in presenting his Bill; + But I pray you'll be firm, + And remember the Worm + Had to get up much earlier still; + (So that, if you _can't_ rise in the morning, then Don't; + And be certain that Where there's a Will there's a Won't.) + + + You can give a bad name to a Dog, + And hang him by way of excuse; + Whereas Hunger, of course, + Is by far the Best Sauce + For the Gander as well as the Goose. + (But you shouldn't judge anyone just by his looks, + For a Surfeit of Broth ruins too many Cooks.) + + + With the fact that Necessity knows + Nine Points of the Law, you'll agree. + There are just as Good Fish + To be found on a Dish + As you ever could catch in the Sea. + (You should Look ere you Leap on a Weasel Asleep, + And I've also remarked That Still Daughters Run Cheap.) + + + The much trodden-on Lane _will_ Turn, + And a Friend is in Need of a Friend; + But the Wisest of Saws, + Like the Camel's Last Straws, + Or the Longest of Worms, have an end. + So, before out of Patience a Virtue you make, + A decisive farewell of these maxims we'll take. + + + + + _Envoi._ + + _"Don't Look a Gifthorse in the Mouth"_ + + + I knew a man, who lived down South; + He thought this maxim to defy; + He looked a Gifthorse in the Mouth; + The Gifthorse bit him in the Eye! + And, while the steed enjoyed his bite, + My Southern friend mislaid his sight. + + Now, had this foolish man, that day, + Observed the Gifthorse in the _Heel_, + It might have kicked his brains away, + But that's a loss he would not feel; + Because you see (need I explain?) + My Southern friend had got no brain. + + When anyone to you presents + A poodle, or a pocketknife, + A set of Ping-pong instruments, + A banjo or a Lady-wife, + 'Tis churlish, as I understand, + To grumble that they're second-hand. + + And he who termed Ingratitude + As "worser nor a servant's tooth" + Was evidently well imbued + With all the elements of Truth; + (While he who said "Uneasy lies + The tooth that wears a crown" was wise). + + "One must be poor," George Eliot said, + "To know the luxury of giving;" + So too one really should be dead + To realize the joy of living. + (I'd sooner be--I don't know which-- + I'd _like_ to be alive and rich!) + + _This_ book may be a Gifthorse too, + And one you surely ought to prize; + If so, I beg you, read it through + With kindly and uncaptious eyes, + Not grumbling because this particular line doesn't happen to scan, + And this one doesn't rhyme! + + + + + _Aftword._ + + + 'Tis done! We reach the final page, + With feelings of relief, I'm certain; + And there arrives at such a stage, + The moment to ring down the curtain. + (This metaphor is freely taken + From Shakespeare--or perhaps from Bacon.) + + The Book perused, our Future brings + A plethora of blank to-morrows, + When memories of Happier Things + Will be our Sorrow's Crown of Sorrows. + (I trust you recognize this line + As being Tennyson's, not mine.) + + My verses may indeed be few, + But are they not, to quote the poet, + "The sweetest things that ever grew + Beside a human door"? I know it. + (What an _in_human door would be, + Enquire of Wordsworth, please, not me.) + + 'Twas one of my most cherished dreams + To write a Moral Book some day; + What says the Bard? "The best laid schemes + Of Mice and Men gang aft agley!" + (The Bard here mentioned, by the bye, + Is Robbie Burns, of course--not I.) + + And tho' my pen records each thought + As swift as the phonetic Pitman, + Morality is not my "forte," + O Camarados! (_vide_ Whitman) + And, like the Porcupine, I still + Am forced to ply a fretful quill. + + We may be Master of our Fate, + (As Henley was inspired to mention) + Yet am I but the Second Mate + Upon the ss. "Good Intention"; + For me the course direct is lacking-- + I have to do a deal of tacking. + + To seek for Morals here's a task + Of which you well may be despairing; + "What has become of them?" you ask, + They've given us the slip--like Waring. + "Look East!" said Browning once, and I + Would make a similar reply. + + Look East, where in a garret drear, + The Author works, without cessation, + Composing verses for a mere- + ly nominal remuneration; + And, while he has the strength to write 'em, + Will do so still--_ad infinitum_. + + + + + FINIS. + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +The words 'bo-num' and 'mere-ly' were retained hyphenated at the ends of +lines to match the printed edition and maintain the poetical intent of +the author. + +Changed 'Heidsick' to 'Heidsieck.' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Perverted Proverbs, by +Harry Graham, (AKA Col. D. 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