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diff --git a/40560.txt b/40560.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 044cc48..0000000 --- a/40560.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4069 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bee's Bayonet, by Edwin Alfred Watrous - -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: The Bee's Bayonet - -Author: Edwin Alfred Watrous - -Release Date: August 22, 2012 [EBook #40560] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEE'S BAYONET *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - THE BEE'S BAYONET - (A LITTLE HONEY AND A LITTLE STING) - --CAMOUFLAGE IN WORD PAINTING-- - - BY - EDWIN ALFRED WATROUS - _Author of "The Fooliam"_ - - BOSTON - RICHARD G. BADGER - THE GORHAM PRESS - - - COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY EDWIN ALFRED WATROUS - - All Rights Reserved - - - Made in the United States of America - - The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. - - - Dedicated to - - THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - CIVILIZATION'S CRUSADER. - - - - To Thee, My Native Land, AMERICA! - My heart with pride is filled: my lips exult - Because Thou art my Home--my Fatherland. - Beneath the Constellation of the States, - Set in the firmament of fadeless blue, - I bare my head and hail the Stars and Stripes, - Proud Emblem of our Unity and Might. - My Country calls! I give what I possess,-- - All! _All_ I say! and giving thus, regret - That my poor contribution to thy needs, - In hours of peril when dark war-clouds loom, - Is such a paltry thing - When measured by the debt of gratitude - I owe for LIBERTY. - All that I am and have belongs to Thee. - Upon thy Altar Fires, - Where Freedom glows and glorifies Mankind, - I consecrate - My flood-tide strength, my substance--life itself! - And rate not this as sacrifice - That gives me pleasure to repay - In this small way - Thy boon and bounty, priceless LIBERTY. - - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PROEM -BEHOLD A MAN! -THE JULOGY -ENGLAND -PREPAREDNESS -THE FUGITIVE KISS -NEW MEXICAN NATIONAL ANTHEM -LOVE -STRONGARM'S WATERLOO -THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE -WAR -SONG OF THE SAMSONS -SIX DAYS -A PROTEST -A PRAYER -SINCE THE LITTLE ONE CAME -RUN ALONG, LITTLE GIRL! -A RETROSPECT -THE EAGLE SCREAMS -THE SERVICE STAR -SOME DAY -THE CRUISE OF THE SEA SERPENT -AMERICA -LIFE AND LOVE -LIFE IN DEATH -GERMANY -ITALY -MARY IS MERRY NO MORE -I SHOT AN ARROW -FIXING THE BLAME -LOVE'S RECOMPENSE -ADAM'S ALE -RUSSIA -BELGIUM -OUR FRIENDS ACROSS THE STREET -EPITAPHS -THE CONQUEST OF THE SUN -OWED TO A ROACH -THE MOODS OF THE WINDS -THE TOXIC TIPPET -TWENTY-THIRD PSALM -FRIENDSHIP -PARAMOUNT PROBLEMS -A REUNION -THE CRUISE OF THE SQUIRREL -JINGLES -THE WEIGHT OF LOVE -DO IT! -AMENITIES -"DANSER SUR UN VULCAN" -AT THE BULGING UDDER TIME -VAGARIES -A SHATTERED ROMANCE -THE MILKY WAY -THE LOGOTHETE -THE PRICE OF PEACE -MEN HAD HORNS THEN -SUB ROSA -WHITMANESQUE -AN APEOLOGY -THE BUG -WAKE, MY LOVE! -FIRST PSALM -NOT PEACE, BUT REVENGE! -HEREDITY -THE CALL OF THE HOMESTEAD -DECIMAL POINTS -BELLES-LETTRES -SANDY, THE PIPER -"BEN BOLT" -EXCELSIOR -HER AND HIM -THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIVING -THE SIXTH OF APRIL -BENEATH A CLOUD -THE COLUMBIAD -HE'S ALL RIGHT, BUT--! -NATURE'S STUDIO -PICARDY -AMERICA'S PRAYER -EPILOGUE - - - - -PROEM - - - If you can find, within, a single line - To give you pleasure, then the pleasure's mine; - But if you fail and whine, or _josh_ like Billings, - You might (I say you _might_!) get back your shillings. - But better yet! Bestow this Book of Verses - On some friend-foe you love with hate and curses, - And your revenge will be attained thereafter - For, when he reads it, he will die with laughter. - And, Cheerful Reader, if this work contains - A soporific for your bulging brains - So that you'll _rave about it_ to your neighbors, - I'll feel repaid for all rebuffs and labors. - Though "Wisdom sometimes borrows, sometimes lends," - You'll borrow trouble lending this to friends; - But earn my thanks if, when you've praised or shown it, - You'll sit upon the lid and never loan it: - For ev'ry copy sold, thru friends or slapbacks, - Just puts Mo'lasses on my buckwheat flapjacks. - And, Critic Friend, who halts Ambition's flight - And ties the can to Aspiration's kite, - Pray recollect that when _you_ plied the pen - And had some stuff accepted now and then, - Your tales, O! Henry, did not prove inviting - Or else you'd be no Cynic but still writing. - - - - - - -THE BEE'S BAYONET - - - - - -BEHOLD A MAN! - - - There stands a MAN! unyielding and defiant, - A master LEADER, bold and self-reliant. - He seeks no conquest but his lance is set - Against the ruthless Despot's parapet. - Alert and conscious of his strength, his thrust - Is sure and timely, for his cause is just. - Invincible, he rallies to his cause - Those who love Justice and respect the laws. - To skulking traitors and to spying foes - He shows no mercy, but his heart o'erflows - For those oppressed, who live, nay! who exist - Where arrogance and tyranny persist: - But, tho distressed by all this human grief, - He weeps not idly, but _compels_ relief: - And those he serves by act or speech or pen, - One Hundred Million _freemen_, shout, AMEN! - "Safe for Democracy the world must be, - And all its bondaged peoples shall be free!" - So spake the MAN: America thus voiced - Its ultimatum, and the Earth rejoiced! - Intensely human, cast from mortal clay - In Nature's mould, one epoch-making day, - Behold a MAN! he seems a higher sort, - Refined with purest gold from God's Retort - And filled with skill and wisdom, Heaven-sent: - God bless and keep our peerless PRESIDENT! - - - - - -THE JULOGY - - - To those who never heard my Songs before, - And those _who have_, and _want to nevermore_, - This Rhapsody, with all its pithy phrases, - Has passed the Censors with the highest praises. - Released by favor of the Board's caprice, - It takes its proper place--a masterpiece! - Soft pedal, please! The Knockers are outclassed, - And Genius finds its recompense at last! - Whene'er I read about this war-time pelf - It makes me sick: I can't contain myself! - The profits on the _die_-stuffs sent to France - Make Croesus' wealth a trifling circumstance; - And what the Farmers get for mules and wheat - Makes fortunes hitherto quite obsolete. - In by-gone days the Bards were praised and pensioned - Who now are at the Front--and rarely mentioned: - And all these hardships they endure while men - _Who write big checks_, thus scandalize the pen. - The Writers should throw off their yokes and collars - And drill their brains to cultivate the dollars. - The talents they possess are strictly mental - And can't be utilized for food and rental. - Their thoughts are capital, but who'll invest - In Sonnet Stock without some _interest_? - Or who'd take stock in Poem Plants? Alack! - He who invests expects the yellowback. - But here I'm talking _money_: what a joke - For one to thus discourse who's always broke! - Since "money talks" we'll suffer it to speak,-- - "I am the thing that countless millions seek; - Greed's inspiration, Evil's very root, - The Nemesis of those in my pursuit. - Kings pay me homage, pawn their crowns to me - And, deathless, I enslave their progeny. - Men famed for noble deeds, who court my smile, - Ofttimes surrender probity to guile: - Who, needy, follows my uncertain path, - I may elude and favor him who hath,-- - For I have wings, and lightning speeds my flight,-- - Wealthy to-day, a pauper overnight! - The Ticker tells the tale from day to day: - Brings joy to some, to others dire dismay." - - This Work is copyrighted just to show - To what low depths the Pirate Press will go. - They borrow thunder from the Vulcan forge, - Then draw the fire and put the smut on George. - Each song or verse, it seems to me, should be - Distinguished by originality - If nothing else (the matter may be sloppy,-- - But that's no matter if there's ample copy) - So that the Author's face could be unmasked - And recognized without a question asked; - Or, so identify Calliope - By strident notes of high-toned quality; - Or thus detect some Poet's "fist" and style - By I. O. U.'s unhonored yet awhile. - The Pirates thus would cease perforce their trade, - And Bacon would not be confused with Ade. - In all my songs I do the work myself, - And draw no inspiration from the Shelf. - Perhaps my lines would be more read, if cribbed, - But George and I, you know, have never fibbed, - And what is more, I think my lines are sweeter - Than those of Dante, with infernal meter; - And more heroic, and not half so sad - As Homer's couplets in the _Ill_iad; - And far more musical and much prettier - Than those by Tennyson or by Whittier. - Each bar is known to me, its licensee, - And ev'ry note has had my scrutiny: - I also watch my pauses, moods and tenses, - And have no words with fair amanuenses. - If you could see my workshop (do not ask it!) - You'd find more "carbons" in my paper-basket, - More rough, unpolished diamonds there immured - Than you, Dear Reader, ever have endured. - I have no Jewish blood, not e'en a strain: - That's what I lack! If ever born again - I'd requisition Hebrew sire and dam, - Something akin, methinks, to Abraham, - And take these "jewels," doomed unseen to flash, - Gloss o'er their flaws, and turn them into cash. - Here's where I doff my bonnet to the Jew! - Tho' sore oppressed they're still the Chosen Few: - A _few_ in numbers but a mighty host - When reckoned by the things that count the most,-- - I mean _achievements_, won by toilsome stages - In spite of persecutions thru the Ages. - - I see these Davids watching o'er their flocks - In Palestine. (To-day they watch their stocks - And clip the coupons from their bonds, you see, - Just as they sheared the lambs in Galilee.) - _There_ milk and honey in abundance vied - To keep the Simple Simons satisfied; - But _here_ to luxuries the Josephs cling, - And milk the honey from most everything. - Time was when you were treated with disdain - But now the tune is quite a changed refrain, - And Gentiles everywhere take special pains - To pay respectful tribute to your brains! - Behold your ancient hills and rugged rocks; - Your fruitful valleys with their golden shocks - Of Grain that, grouped around the stately dates, - Seem to defy the _threshing_ that awaits! - Here olives ripen 'neath the summer skies - And yield rich oil,--first Standard Oil supplies; - 'Twas here the mighty Samson filled with awe - The Philistines and flayed them with his jaw; - (No man before, or since, thus courted fame, - For woman holds these records in _her_ name.) - And here wise Solomon refused the vote - In statecraft matters to the Petticoat; - But when the Referendum was installed - The wise old King's objection was Recalled. - And then there's David caring for his sheep, - And big Goliath (_rocking_ him to sleep). - There Japheth, Shem and Ham are; Ham tabooed - By Moses in his Treatises on Food; - And Jehu with his pair of chestnut colts - Trotting the highway down like thunderbolts. - If Jehu _reined_ to-day he'd swap his stable - For high-power Auto, with a foreign label, - And hold the record for the Shore Road trip - From Tyre to Sidon at a lightning clip,-- - And make his whiskers, driven by the breeze, - Look like a storm-tossed frigate on the seas. - There's Jacob dreaming, seeing more than Esau, - And giving him the double-cross and hee-haw; - Obtaining Esau's birthright (Silly Dupe!) - For three brass spheroids and a bowl of soup. - He traded for it--didn't have to buy it! - 'Cause Brother Hairy, glutton, wouldn't diet. - But "chickens come back home to roost," forsooth, - And Jacob in his dotage learned this truth, - When Leah's sons, of ordinary clay, - Put Rachel's Joseph in the consomme. - - As Financiers the palm has been bestowed, - In panegyric, melody and ode, - On Jacob's sons. The caravans, that passed - Thru burning sands, from cities far and vast, - Into their land that teemed with grain and gold, - Were richly laden. Thus they bought and sold, - Exchanging corn and cattle, hides and honey - For finest silks and linens, gems and money,-- - Until, thru bargain-insight, skill and daring, - They cornered all the fabrics used for wearing, - And then proceeded, with discerning lust, - To hump themselves and form a Camel Trust. - The Traders who had plied this Cargo Route - Could never, in their deals, get cash to boot - From Jacob's sons. Sometimes a fleece or skin, - Of little size and worth, would be thrown in, - But shekels--No! And so the nomad Sheik - In quest of easy picking; Turk and Greek; - The wily Fellah from the distant Nile - Whose gaudy gewgaw "gems" reflect his guile; - The sleepy Peddlers from the Land of Nod, - Who still shekinah on ancestral sod; - And all the Wise Men from the Eastern marts - Who plan their ventures by the Astral charts, - Plotted and vowed, by Imps and Endor Witches, - To wrest from Jacobs Brothers all their riches. - So, working now with Bulls, anon with Bears; - Rigging the market to advance their wares - Or to depress the House of Jacobs' shares, - It looked as if the plotters might make good - Against the unsuspecting Brotherhood. - But patiently the Brethren stood their ground, - Unmindful of the rumors passed around, - Or baits to tempt Cupidity thrown out, - That throttle Judgment and put Sense to rout,-- - Until the market, unsupported, broke: - Then, feigning sleep, they suddenly awoke - And took possession of the Stock Exchange. - Like beaten curs or mongrels with the mange - The Plotters cringed. The _Shorts_ in wild dismay - To cover ran, but Zounds! they had to pay - Four prices to the Brethren who controlled - The entire issue of the short stock sold. - And thus the Brethren made a tidy sum, - Keeping their standing in Financialdom. - Keen businessmen, they sold or bought as well, - But never showed _anxiety_ to sell. - - So Jacob's Sons became, as was their bent, - The mighty Merchants of the Orient. - No goose that ever layed a golden egg - Would needs have come to one of them to beg - For life or respite. "Nay! Lay on, Good Goose! - We'll shield thee and thy gander from abuse!" - Long-headed and kind-hearted, in such cases - Their noses were not lopped to spite their faces. - Too wise they were: they had too good a teacher - To make the nose too prominent a feature! - While yet the goose was itching for the nest - They egged her on and Quack! she did the rest. - A goose she would appear to give so much - To those who had--but Life is ever such. - But Jacob's Sons like Isaac, sturdy Oak, - Made no complaint but bore their golden yolk, - And, thrifty men, in many baskets stored - The golden ovals and increased their hoard. - And so their nests were feathered, as we know, - But cautious men they were, who didn't crow. - And so we see them on the filmy screens, - Matching their talents 'gainst the Philistines: - And looking close, we notice that the Brothers - Have bigger _stacks_ before them than the others. - - And then there's Job, the Paradox, who toils - To show good humor when beset by boils; - And Jinxy Jonah, ducked and rudely whaled, - Because he had no passport when he sailed. - (Whene'er I see the Ocean Mammal spout - Methinks it's habit--_spewing Jonah out_.) - Delilah's "next"! Tonsorial Adept-- - A cutting up while headstrong Samson slept. - Shear nonsense--that man's vigor could be sapped - Because he had a haircut when he napped, - Or lose his nerve, e'en at the yawning grave, - Tho' just escaping by the closest shave. - With Samson's case a multitude compare, - For men miss greatness ofttimes by a hair. - 'Twas his conceit that made him lose his nerve, - As long-haired, whiskered men, bereft, deserve. - The facts are these: that Samson used to wear - A wig with ringlets, 'cause his head was bare. - One night, in playful mood, Delilah stole - Up to his cot and touched the poor old soul - For his toupee. He woke, chagrined, and fled - Because his capillary roots were dead. - What transformation! Thus the Man of Might - Became a pussyfooter overnight, - And went to writing verses from that minute - Finding his strength, not _on_ his head, but in it. - - Of all your rulers, Roman, Jew or Fezzer, - The first or most pronounced is Nebu'nezzar. - (_Too long_ this monstrous name has been derided, - And so the _chad_, for rhythm, is elided.) - "Neb" is enough, for short, and apropos - Of Shadrach, Meshack and Abednego, - The King waxed wroth because these three live wires - Passed thru his melting pots and furnace fires - Without a burn: remarkable endurance! - Because protected by good Fire Insurance. - He paid the price for arson ere he died, - Was kept lit up and rightly classified - Among the beasts: and now that all is over - 'Tis safe to say he did not live in clover, - But roamed the pastures, when he lost his pull, - And grazed himself to death: he was _some_ bull. - - Then next we come to Ruth, the Moabite: - Her husband Chilion (not her!) one night - Blew out the gas, and Ruth was thus bereft; - But Naomi, her Ma-in-Law, was left - To comfort her: and jolly well she did it! - For Ruth's great grief soon ceased or else she hid it. - Then to Naomi's Land the two repaired, - Their love enhanced by sorrows they had shared. - And so the elder of the widowed twain - Set out to find, for Ruth, another swain; - And all her schemes, 'tis said, succeeded so as - To marry Ruth to wealthy kinsman Boaz. - Unselfish? No! _She_ was too old to wed, - So Ruth agreed to give her board and bed, - Trusting to Boaz not to spoil her plan - Who swallowed hook and line like any man. - The attic room, or one just off the hall, - Was where Naomi nightly had to crawl; - And all her meals, unleavened bread and 'taters, - Were eaten in the kitchen with the waiters,-- - For Boaz, when the honeymoon was spent, - Tightened his purse-strings--wouldn't spend a cent! - And Naomi as welcome was, I think, - As hungry roaches in the kitchen sink. - This is the only case,--I know no other! - Where widowed wife abided husband's mother; - Or, where a woman, in such circumstance, - Would give her son's relict another chance. - - There's Baal and those exalting Gods of brass; - And Balaam, Prophet: but we'll let him pass! - And John the Baptist, man who lost his head - To fair Salome, tho she cut him dead. - There's Absalom the Vain, whose hair was long, - Who, in the final parting, got in wrong: - And Pharaoh, with chariots and fighters - Pursuing Moses and the Israeliters; - Who, half-seas over, when the King dropped in, - Punished the latter for his divers sin, - And rescued on the Red Sea bar his folk, - Athirst for freedom from the Ptolemy yoke. - - While yet the rushes bent beneath the blast - Of Red Sea winds, a prodigy was cast. - (From common _mold_, perhaps, but 'tis enough - To know that he was made of proper stuff.) - And little did the Tempest wot his noise - Was silence likened to the bawling boy's. - The Earth breathed on the shape and gave it speech, - Or something vocally akin, a screech. - Thus Moses had his coming out--and lo! - He rushed into the arms of Fairy O - (Daughter of Pharaoh, the mighty King) - Who bore him to the Palace 'neath her wing. - Fed on the Milk of Kindness to begin, - With Medica Materia thrown in, - He grew until appointed, by decree, - To Little Egypt, Princess, the M.D. - Thus Doctor Moses hung his shingle out, - And soon his fame was heralded about. - To doctors since, no fame like his doth cling: - No Specialist: he doctored everything! - He analyzed and stopped the human leak; - (His patience was rewarded, so to speak) - He charged his people to eschew the swine, - And made the Ten Commandments seem benign. - Not only as Physician did he rate, - But as a Surgeon: he could amputate! - He cut off Pharaoh in his pursuit - And, by this operation, gained repute. - He set his people right and made no bones - Of driving lepers from the Safety Zones; - He gave them tablets for their moral healing, - Knowing their pulses without even feeling. - His praises now resound from every lip - Because he saved the Jews from Phar'oh's grippe. - Still 'long the Nile the pink-winged curlews flock - Where Moses took his henchmen out of hock; - The minions of AEolus hurtle on, - Leaving a trail of foam the waves upon,-- - Stopping anon, where restless driftwood crushes - The lotus pads that hover near the rushes, - To chant a requiem and breathe a prayer - Over the spot that cradled Moses there. - If modern doctors would obey the rule - Of common sense prescribed by Moses' School; - If they would note our pulses and our looks - Instead of feeling of our pocket-books - And judging circulation by the latter, - We'd sometimes know, perhaps, just what's the matter. - What doctor now would diagnosis make - And call it simple, old-time belly-ache, - Charging a trifling fee to cure the pain? - Ah, no! those days will not return again! - No more, alas! will green-fruit cramps delight us, - For colic now is styled appendicitis. - By leaps and bounds have grown the "trifling fees"; - "Five hundred!" now, succeeds "One Dollar, please!" - And germs, in league with doctors, have their station - At vital points to force inoculation, - So that our Systems pay a pretty price - For ev'ry nostrum, ev'ry fake device - Known to the School of Quacks: and so we suffer - Imposed upon by patentee and duffer. - O, for a Moses! That's our crying need-- - To cure Physicians of unbridled greed - And probe, no matter where it hurts, the cause - Of Doctors' strange immunity from laws. - O! for an instrument--an act or sermon-- - Of Moses' kind--to cut the germ from German! - And lead them from the Wilderness of Vice - Whose hearts were warm but now have turned to ice! - - All these and many more increase the lustre - Distinguishing this brilliant Jewish cluster. - And Abraham? We save him for the last, - Tho first in line, renowned Iconoclast. - Of all the Israelites, the men of mark, - Who else compares with this grand Patriarch? - And who besides, of all the racial roots, - Developed half the lusty leaves and shoots, - Strong limbs and branches, virile seed? _some_ trunk! - The Ark, with all this luggage, would have sunk! - And so 'twere well the Deluge didst o'erwhelm - The Earth, ere this, with Noah at the helm, - Else to preserve the chosen and elite - Of Israel's line would needs have taxed a fleet. - - I love these ancient tribesmen who illumine - The Archives of the Past: they were so human! - Their frailties were but habits of the Race - Since Father Adam set the human pace - Hitched up with Eve who, chafing at the bit, - Did well her part or bit, in spite of it. - But all their mortal weaknesses were nil - Compared with virtues that their Records fill; - And good or bad, or medium or fair, - No Tribe excelled their morals anywhere. - They freely gave their tithes, but did it pay - To advertise their wealth? a give away! - And so their pockets have been worn and frayed - By frequent contributions they have made - To Charity and Church. I hope and pray - They've saved a little for a rainy day! - I think they have! for Money talked,--confessed - That Hebrews were the ones he liked the best, - Because they never slighted or abused him, - And always were so careful how they used him. - - And so, O Sons of Abraham, I say - You've come into your own and come to stay! - The Promised Land is yours, but what is more, - The Earth and Seas and Skies with all their store. - You wandered from Judea, but why care? - Because your home is here as well as there; - And we would miss you just as much, I vum, - As those who wait you in Capernaum; - For Broadway would despair and sackcloth don - If you should leave New York for Ascalon. - - No more, thank God! will Infidels profane - Jerusalem. For centuries the stain - Of Turkish rule has laid its unclean hand - Upon the Altars of the Holy Land. - But now the Prophet's promise is fulfilled, - And Jews and Gentiles are rejoiced and thrilled - As Men of Allenby, God's Sword, restore - The Holy City: _yours_ forevermore. - - - - -ENGLAND - - - O, Mighty Atlas, thou hast borne the load - Of hapless peoples smarting from the goad - Of Tyranny, until thy giant strength - Seems overtaxed and doomed to break at length. - Unless thy vim endures with steadfast force; - Unless thy Ship of State keeps on its course; - Unless thou gird thy loins and stand astride, - Colossus-like, the struggles that betide-- - While all the Furies strive, the Turk and Hun, - To sap thy power--undo what thou hast done-- - Of what avail will all thy efforts be - Against the tottering walls of Tyranny? - And to what purpose will have lived thy men - Who won imposing fame with sword or pen? - And what, I pray, will all thy thousands slain - Avail thy Empire if they've died in vain? - - - - -PREPAREDNESS - - - The Ostrich has his wings, but not for flight; - He flies _on foot_ when danger is in sight; - His mate lays eggs upon the desert reaches - And "sands" them over when the leopard screeches. - The eggs, thus mounded, fall an easy prey - To feline foragers who slink that way. - The Ostrich, thus, guards not his nest: instead - He hides, in burning sands, his shameless head - And lets his monoplane and rudder be - Stripped of their plumage by an enemy. - - Ostriches should Carry - Their Eggs in a Basket - And use their Feathers - For Dusting over the Desert. - - The Squirrel is quite a different kind of fowl: - He works while others sleep, the sly old owl! - And stores up food, against the rainy day, - In secret nooks, from forest thieves away. - When winter comes, or when besieged by foes, - Securely housed he feasts and thumbs his nose - And ridicules starvation: he's immune! - While others, shiftless, sing another tune. - The Squirrel, you see, is much misfortune spared - In times of stress because he is prepared. - - Improvident Nuts - Should Tear a Leaf - From the Squirrel's Diary. - - A Heifer on the Railroad Crossing stood - Chewing Contentment's Cud, as heifers should,-- - When, rushing madly, "late again," there came - The Noonday Mail. The Heifer was to blame - For choosing her position, I would say, - Because the Engine had the Right of Whey. - The Cow was unprepared! Her switching tail - Failed signally to flag the Noonday Mail. - But why keep beefing over milk that's spilled? - She heeded not the sign and thus was killed. - - Heifers with Unprotected - Flanks should not Invite - Rear-guard Actions. - - The Busy Bee improves the shining hours - And gathers honey from the fragrant flowers. - When Winter comes, forsaking field and rill, - He _hivernates_, but lives in clover still. - While Famine stalks without, his Home, _Sweet_ Home - Is stored with tempting food from floor to dome. - - He never lacks, nor has to buy, but cells - His surplus food gleaned from the flower-fringed dells. - A thrifty fellow is the Busy Bee - And fortified against Emergency. - - A Bee's Ears - Contain no Wax - And he Saves his Combings - Against the Baldness of Old Age. - - The Mule is well equipped but lacks the _mind_; - His strategy is in his heels, behind. - If pointed wrong, his practice is not dreaded, - But kick he will, no matter how he's headed. - With foresight lacking, hindsight to the fore, - He'll be just simple Mule forevermore; - Without the range or sight he'll blaze away - And thwart his purpose with his brazen bray. - If well-directed effort were his cult - No fortress could withstand his catapult. - - A Mule should Conserve - His Ammunition and - Not Shoot-off his Mouth. - - The Burglar, have you noticed? never troubles - To look for petty loot in obscure hovels. - He packs his kit and steals adown the road - To Gaspard Moneybags' renowned abode. - He knows the house-plan ("inside" dope, no - doubt) - And when he's _in_, old Moneybags is _out_. - But Jimmy does not dent the window-sash; - He enters _thru the door_ and gets the cash. - Prepared? Well, yes! He knew just where to look, - For Nora hung the key upon the hook. - - Team-work is - The Handmaiden - Of Efficiency. - - It pays to be Prepared, you see, and so - The Snail in Armored Car goes safe, tho' slow; - And Alligators in their Coats of Mail - Withstand assaults where those, defenceless, fail. - The Tortoise totes his Caripace around - And dwells in safety where his foes abound; - While Wasps, with poisoned javelins, defend - Successfully their offspring to the _end_. - A Sheep with ramparts has no thought of fear, - But guards his buttress when his foes appear, - And any Skunk can frighten and harass - An Army with Asphyxiating Gas. - - - - -THE FUGITIVE KISS - - - How I loved her! There on the gate we'd lean, - (The dear, old gate that never gave away - The loving nothings we were wont to say) - From day to day, - And sometimes after dark; - She was my Angel-Sweetheart, just sixteen. - - But I was shy! And while I longed to taste - The nectar of her lips, I was afraid - To draw her to my breast and kiss the Maid: - But I essayed! - And this is what I drew-- - "There's Papa with the bulldog, so make haste!" - - What could I do? The "bark" was flecked with foam, - And old man Jones was meaner than a cur; - So there I stood 'twixt fear, and love of her - And didn't stir - Until they came: and then - I kissed them _all_ Good-bye and _beat it home_. - - - - -_NEW_ MEXICAN NATIONAL ANTHEM - - - My Country vast and grand, - Sweet Montezuma Land, - My Stingaree. - Land of the Knife and Gun, - Villa and Scorpion; - Land of the Evil One - I weep for thee! - - Smallpox and Rattlesnakes - Lurk in thy Cactus brakes, - And Yellow Jack. - Spiders and Centipedes - Gloat o'er thy murd'rous deeds: - To cure thy crying needs, - Call Diaz back. - - Tarantula and Flies - Poison your lands and skies: - Behold your graves! - Carranza's waving beard - By Pancho's Band is feared, - And will be till he's sheared - Or dyes or shaves. - - Horned Toads and Vampire Bats, - Gilas and Mountain Cats, - Where'er you go! - - Buzzards and Vultures reign - Over a million slain; - And Mescal is the bane - Of Mexico. - - O, Land of Chili con - Carne and Obregon, - Let murders cease! - Keep Freedom's fires aglow - Where La Frijoles grow; - Throw up your Sombrero - And Keep the Peace! - - - - -LOVE - - -I - - Love is the Mecca of our Heart's Desire: - We worship at its shrine and feel its thrill; - Burning our Hopes upon its Altar Fire - Till Passion be consumed, but not until. - - -II - - Then Love assumes a calmer mood, when spent-- - His quiver empty and his bow unstrung-- - And peers into the pleasing Past, content - To live, unmoved, his memories among. - - - - -STRONGARM'S WATERLOO - - - _Some_ drive! From tee to green in one: par, three! - That's putting proper English on, you see! - And, Goodness Golfus! See the ball roll up - To easy putting distance from the cup. - Who is this man? Professional, no doubt! - He'll "card" a thirty-seven going out; - And if he gets the "breaks" he'll make, methinks, - A new low record for the Piedmont Links. - See with what confidence he wends his way - The Fairway thru to make his hole out play! - The Gallery, expectant, follows thru - To see the Champion go down in _two_. - Then to the ball he makes his last address, - (The ball was peeved at what he said, I guess) - And pulls his gooseneck back a foot or so - Before he hits the sphere the fateful blow. - Alas for human frailty! See it flit - Across the green into the sandy pit! - The sighing winds, in protest, moaned Beware! - While he invoked the Deity in prayer. - And then he played his third, but topped the sphere, - The Rubber Rogue responding with a leer. - - A halo hung around the Stranger's head - It seemed: but, nay! 'twas brimstone fire instead, - For what he said, in type is not displayed - Except on fire-proof paper, I'm afraid. - - Four! Five! Six! But still far from the goal! - The Player loses all his self-control - And breaks the "goose" in twain: then hark the din, - When Caddie trails the ball and _kicks it in_! - - Far from the scene of strife the Club House becks - The weary Golfers on their inward treks; - And close beside, beneath the porch's shade, - The Nineteenth hole dispenses lemonade - And other cheering drinks, within the law; - But little ice that cuts: who cares a straw? - - - - -THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE - - - Yes! I've done my bit, as you fellows would say, - If serving one's country deserves any praise: - Two years at the front, then an arm shot away! - And this is my "cross" in reward for those days. - But I can do more! While there's blood in my veins - I'll give the last drop, while the hoof of the Hun - Polluted and cloven in Alsace remains: - Until France is free we must fight: every one! - - Of course I'll go back to the trenches again: - My wound is fast healing and soon will be sound; - Six chevrons have I, but I'll fight with the men - Who fill up the shell-holes like moles in the ground. - I'll charge with the Boys when they hurdle the top, - The Tri-color lashed to my half-useless arm, - With pistol or sword in my hand, till I drop: - For Freedom is menaced: Go sound the alarm! - - France needs every son, be they crippled or strong, - To rid our fair land of the murderous horde: - So flock to the Colors, Brave Boys: come along! - And fight till the Glory of France is restored! - Our women are outraged, our children enslaved; - Up, Frenchmen! and strike till the last dying breath! - We can _never_ turn back, so be it engraved - On our spears and escutcheons,--_Vengeance or Death_! - - - - -WAR - - - Down by the village runs the stream - Once placid, now a raging flood: - Behold it, by the day's last gleam - Gorged with the dead and dyed with blood. - - The Chapel bell has tolled its last; - The trees are bare, tho this be Spring: - Death's shroud is on the village cast, - And Ruin reigns o'er everything. - - A grist of carnage clogs the Mill, - And shells have razed the quondam homes: - Fresh graves the trampled vineyards fill, - Whose cellars are but catacombs. - - Beyond the village, Refugees - Stand, herded, cowed by fear and grief, - Or, _gassed_, implore on bended knees - For death, despairing of relief. - - With bayonets and faces set - The Grenadiers, by L'Aiglon led, - Present a gruesome parapet,-- - Thus, _still defending_, tho they're dead. - - - - -SONG OF THE SAMSONS - - - We are Samsons, Biff! Boom! Bang! - Here to pot the Potsdam Gang. - If Bad Bill is found in Metz, - We'll not vouch for what he gets! - If in Essen he is caught, - Good Night! Kultur, Him und Gott! - Shades of Bismarck! Watch him faint - When he finds his Empire _ain't_! - - To our Sweethearts we said "Knit," - We must go and do our Bit! - How d'ye do, Pierrot? Pierrette? - We are friends of Lafayette! - Wait until our Drive begins,-- - Bill, you'll suffer for your sins! - Sick 'em, Prince! We'll tie the fuse - Onto Frederich Wilhelm's shoes. - - When we occupy Cologne-- - Phew! How big and strong you've grown! - We will paint each shop and lodge - With bright red in camouflage! - Then to Carlsbad we will swing; - Need the baths like everything! - Frauleins leave your fears behind; - We don't war on womankind! - - We are filled with fire and zeal: - Watch us pick the locks to Kiel! - We are coming to our own - In Lorraine across the Rhone! - When our Flocks of Eaglets fly-- - Dunder! Blitzen! Bill, Good-bye! - Beaks of Steel and Claws of Lead-- - Sun eclipsed! The Geezer's dead. - - CHORUS - - O, you U Boats, - That for U! - We slipped thru you; - How d'y' do? - Hindenberg? Ach, let him rant! - He won't stop us _'cause he can't_! - Zepps and Taubs are falling down; - Butcher Bill will lose his crown; - Watch your step, you Horrid Hun, - You can't _goosestep_ when you _run_! - - Hooray for the crimson, white and blue! - 'Rah for Old Glory! _Chapeau bas vous!_ - 'Rah for the Tri-Color! We're at home - In _la belle_ France by the _eau de_ Somme; - Hooray for our Allies true and brave! - We'll all sweep thru like a tidal wave - Over the _top_ in a mighty Drive-- - And never stop while the HUNDS survive! - - - - -SIX DAYS - - - O, the comfort we feel - When we finish a meal - Consisting of rice cakes and whey; - Because beyond question - There's no indigestion - At the end of a Meatless day. - - When the "buck" dough doth rise - From y'East to the skies - And hot griddled pancakes--oh, say! - With sausages frying - There's no use denying - Your welcome, O Wheatless day. - - When the house is afrost - Without fuel: its cost - Is more than we're able to pay: - With our hearts all aglow - We can thaw ice or snow - Making light of a Heatless day. - - When there's discord with wife - There's a shadow on life - That once was so sunny and gay; - But billing and cooing - Subordinate stewing - At the end of a Sweetless day! - - When will beefsteak and ham - Not be sold by the gram? - How long will these high prices stay? - When the bad Profiteers - Show contrition and tears - At the dawn of a Cheatless day. - - When our Soldiers in France - Do their Indian dance - And scalp all the Huns in the fray, - The Kaiser will holler, - With rope for a collar, - At the end of his Ruthless day! - - - - -A PROTEST - - - While now 'tis meet to eat fish, eggs and maize, - _Vice_ meat and wheat whene'er we dine or sup, - So be it! but this protest I would raise-- - In spite of warnings--veal keeps bobbing up! - - - - -A PRAYER - - - O Sun and Skies, that Hoover o'er our Fields - Where Grains implanted lie, and Silos stand,-- - Pour out thy Warmth and Rains till Hunger yields - Thruout the World to our blest _Fodder_land! - - - - -SINCE THE LITTLE ONE CAME - - - I seem to have taken a new lease on life - Since the little one came; - I've lost the old grouch, and I say to my wife, - Do you think I'm to blame - Because I have changed in my feelings towards you - Since the Little One came? - The furnace, 'tis true, gave me something to do, - But I think it a shame - That some tiny tie like the Little One here - (How is Snooks for a name?) - Was not sooner left on our doorstep, my dear! - - The Store takes my time, but a very small part,-- - It's all over at four! - I've cut Clancy's out and have made a new start; - All my cronies are sore! - But what do I care? I have mended my ways, - So I rush from the Store - And hasten back home where the Little One plays - On the rugged hall floor, - And pick him up quick (O, how pretty he looks!) - Without shutting the door; - So anxious I am to caress little _Snooks_. - - The chafing-dish chafes and the Joy-car is sore; - We have given them up! - The Two-step and Bridge are tabooed evermore; - There is Joy in our Cup! - We've cut out the movies and dining about - For our own modest sup; - And billiards and golfing, I've cut them both out! - As I did to the Hup. - With playthings and drum (and a ruppy, tup, tup!) - Loaded up like a Krupp, - I beat it to Snooky,--our _English Bull Pup_. - - - - -RUN ALONG, LITTLE GIRL! - - - Run along, Little Girl! for it's bed-time now: - Your Dollies are sleepy and poor old Bow-wow - Is weary and lonesome, curled up in a heap-- - 'Twould take little rocking to put him to sleep! - Your Teddy Bear's growling: or is it a snore? - Perhaps he objects to his bed on the floor? - So pick up your treasures and when prayers are said-- - Run along, Little Girl, and climb in to bed! - - Run along, Little Girl! The Sandman is here; - You've crowded too much into one day, I fear! - Poor, little, tired Girlie, you've worked at your play - Till the bloom of your cheeks has faded away. - To-morrow, again, you can sit by the fire - And dress all your Dollies in gala attire. - Say, Good Night! to your thimble, needle and seams; - Run along, Little Girl, and sweet be your dreams! - - Run along, Little Girl, and cover up tight! - There's nothing to harm you, no spooks in the night - Nor Bogeymen glaring when you are awake; - For they're _bad_ little girls that Bogeymen take. - - To-morrow Bow-wow can be hitched to your sled - And draw you to Grandma's to see Piggie fed; - No harm can befall you when Mother is near; - Run along, Little Girl, and God bless you, Dear! - - - - -A RETROSPECT - - - Picture a Home with love aglow and laughter - Reverberating from each joist and rafter; - A sweet-faced Mother kissing you "Good Night"! - With "Go to sleep! lest Santa Claus take fright - And dashes by--leaving no books or toys - For naughty, wide-eyed, little girls and boys." - Then see her tip-toe down the stairs, and trim - The tree--a toy on ev'ry outstretched limb; - The rocking-horse and wagon at the base, - And candy-stockings in the big fireplace: - For thus we retrospect to show, no other - Would scheme and work and "fabricate" like Mother - To make our Christmas Day a grand fruition, - And keep the secret of its sweet tradition. - - - - -THE EAGLE SCREAMS - - - We have arrived! America is First! - Here Freedom cradled; here its paean burst - Upon the ears of nations, near and far - Till Light of Freedom is the Guiding Star - Thruout the world; though Thraldom still obscures - The Guiding Star where Tyranny endures. - 'Twas ever thus till Boston's "Reb" array - Upset King George's teapot in the Bay, - And Pegasus, whom we Revere, astride - His high-bred hobby, warned the countryside. - Before that time the Briton played the game - Of _pour la tea_ or Golf (its proper name). - With confidence and brassie nerve, methinks, - Until they struck a Bunker on our links - That thwarted all their prowess--'pon my soul! - And left them groggy at the nineteenth hole. - But still they puttered 'round and drank our rum - Till Washington's avenging time had come; - When, with his army, steeled at Valley Forge, - He, George the First, uncrowned the other George, - And all the "red-breasts," from our eyries shooed - Where now the Bird of Freedom guards his brood. - - - - -THE SERVICE STAR - - - The stars are agleam in their azurine field, - Diffusing effulgence afar; - But magnitude, lustre and fixedness yield - To the glorious Service Star. - - In aureate setting, a pendant aglare, - Is the radiant Service Star; - That blazes with fire like a rare solitaire, - A gift to the Valkyr of War. - - Protect thou our treasure, O, Valkyr! Restore - Our Jewel so priceless! and bar - From Valhalla's Dungeons, where Death's torrents pour, - Our sanctified Service Star! - - - - -SOME DAY - - - Some day when the war is ended - And we sail from France away, - With sorrow and longings blended, - Back home to America; - And we live once more in Blighty - A thousand years in a day, - In the Land of God Almighty - Where the Old Folks watch and pray: - Some day, when we hit the pillow - Again on a box-spring bed, - As snug as an armadillo - With his shell-protected head; - When bugles refrain from tooting, - And noises of battle stop; - When victory ends recruiting, - Or charging Over the Top: - _Some_ day! when we're thru with fighting - And the beaten Hun retreats; - When the Cooties cease from biting - And we sleep between the sheets! - - - - -THE CRUISE OF THE SEA SERPENT - - - And now behold the Merchant Submarine! - Only its peeking periscope is seen, - But what a cyclorama it reveals - To those below! Thru surging seas it steals - And vies with dolphins, porpoises and sharks - To keep apace with brigantines and barks; - And, tho itself unseen, it's proud to show - To what low depths a submarine can go. - The Cyclops sees as well by night as day; - Its father, Neptune, gives it right of way: - Amphibious, it rides the Ocean's crest, - Or in its sunken Gardens takes its rest. - This new-type boat we designate as It - Because no other pronoun seems to fit. - No water-laden craft could be a He, - Nor one unspoken could be rated She. - The Germans call it _unter_: O. U. Cargo! - They aim to close the bar on the embargo. - Beneath the waves no lurching doth it feel - But speeds its course upon an even keel. - With duplex engines and a double crew, - (It's "manned" by mermaids when it's hid from view). - It scoffs at dangers, tho they lurk around, - And shuts its _eye_ to perils that abound. - There's scant spare space, but still its ribs enfold - A priceless cargo in its shallow hold. - Past hostile ships into a neutral haven, - It comes up smiling with all flags a wavin'. - - But now these "Cargo Craft" throw off disguise - And cut our neutral throats: it's no surprise - That dastards, who as "scraps of paper" rate - Their solemn Treaties, would thus lie in wait - And murder innocents without emotion, - Making a shambles of the outraged Ocean. - Now lashed to fury, see the waves rebel - And sweep these Prussian Pirates down to Hell! - No longer neutral the Avenging Sword - Is in our hands to smite the Hun-hound horde. - The God of Joshua, in righteous wrath - Will, in its flight thru empyrean path, - Command the Sun to stop: it is His will! - Till _Kultur_ be effaced--and not until. - - - - -AMERICA - - - America, Crusader in the Cause - Of Liberty, before thy shrine we pause - And offer grateful prayer that thou art Right - In making demonstration of thy Might. - Without a thought of Conquest doth thou draw - Thine honored sword for Liberty and Law, - That Nations of a common tongue, tho weak, - May gain the Peace with Freedom that they seek; - And occupy again, when battles cease, - Their places in the Firmament of Peace. - Fight on! Defender of the Cause! till Truth - Shall banish Tyranny and Wars forsooth, - And throttle _Kultur_ and its godless School, - Till Teutons, purged, obey the Golden Rule! - - - - -LIFE AND LOVE - - - Life is the Echo of the Buried Past; - A Soul reclaimed, an Atom born anew: - Its fire burns on, tho flickering at the last, - And finds its grand fulfillment, Love, in you. - - - - -LIFE IN DEATH - - - Why should we dread the Messenger of Death? - Who comes as friend when sufferings beset, - And gives surcease of pain with final breath - So that Life leaves, rejoiced, without regret. - - - - -GERMANY - - - O, Hun, from what low beast didst thou descend? - That thou shouldst have the lust to kill and rend; - The bestial passion to enjoy the groans - Of suffering victims, while you crunch their bones - Or gouge their eyes, that mutely plead in vain - For quick oblivion and ease from pain? - Of ponderous cast and savage mien, what teat, - With Hatred filled and Passion's fiery heat, - Reared thee more wolf than man? ill-bred,--a curse - To thine own kind, and to the Universe! - - - - -ITALY - - - Italians, hold! Rienzi pleads again - Against the Tyrants: hold if ye be men! - Let not the foe despoil your fertile lands - Or wrest historic treasures from your hands! - Guard well your daughters! Shield your budding sons! - Lest they be maimed or murdered by the Huns. - Soldiers of Italy, would ye be slaves - To Teuton hordes? Behold the sacred graves - Of Garibaldi and your martyred dead - Who made ye Freemen! Wouldst be slaves instead? - The Alpine Passes that were yours are lost; - Your Northern Rivers have been reached and crossed; - Hold, Romans, hold! Halt further Teuton gains, - And drive their looting legions from your plains! - Hold! Men of Italy! Your wall of steel - Can save fair Venice from the Despot's heel: - Hold! Every man! for Honor, Country, Home-- - And for the Glory of Eternal Rome! - - - - -MARY IS MERRY NO MORE - - - The Lamb that accompanied Mary - Without aid of cudgel or rope, - Was raised by her sire Elder Berry, - And washed with dioxygen soap. - - Its fleece, like the linen-spread table, - Was snow-white: the lambkin was prized - And kept from the sheep in the stable - Who never were deodorized. - - The lamb had a yearning for knowledge, - And schoolward would follow the lass - Till she was admitted to college, - A graduate out of his class. - - Then sheep-eyes were made by the teacher, - And Mary was quick to decide - 'Twixt him and the poor, woolly creature - Who made lambentations and died. - - She married her Teacher,--a lesson! - Dyspeptic and old, he's a fright! - Her thoughts fail of fitting expression, - So she lams her own kids just for spite. - She looks at her spouse with deep loathing, - And sighs for her dead quadruped, - And wishes the "wolf in sheep's clothing"-- - - Her husband, were dead in his stead. - Alas, lass! You've forded the ferry; - Your tombstone was graven for two; - The lamb, chiseled there, stands for Mary, - And the _Old English_ MARY for yew. - The lamb reached the end of his tether - When Mary ascended on High, - But surely, in spite of the wether, - They'll meet in the Sweet Bye-and-Bye. - - - - -I SHOT AN ARROW - - - I shot an arrow: how it sang! - It was a poisoned arrow! - And when it turned, a boomerang, - It chilled me to the marrow. - - I know not where the arrow struck, - And care but little whether - It came straight back or ran amuck - Upon the near-by heather. - - But _this_ I know; however fast - The arrow homeward scurried, - My getaway was unsurpassed-- - For, Goodness, how I hurried! - - - - -FIXING THE BLAME - - - The almost-King of Verdun, still uncrowned, - Wearied of _driving_, walked the ramparts 'round - To see his father, Mr. William Kaiser, - Who was to him an Oracle and wiser. - "O Sire! Inform me! Tell your first-born son, - Who caused the War, and why it was begun? - Who slipped the leash, and what was the excuse - For turning Europe's rabid War Dogs loose? - Did you? Or was it Cousin George, or Nick - Who stacked the cards and played the dirty trick? - Or was it Joe, or Ferdinand, or Grey - Who sawed the bridge and pulled the props away?" - - "My Son, I swear by all the periscopes - And Zeppelins to which I pin my hopes; - By all the Ocean Sharks and Bats a-sky, - By Gott-in-Himmel! As I hope to die, - _I'm_ not to blame! I didn't use the spurs, - Or try to overwork Geographers! - I fought for Peace, and ne'er defiance hurled, - Altho' the Fatherland _should_ rule the world. - But here's the truth: a secret I'll disclose! - A stranger 'twas who made us come to blows! - It happened thus: a mighty Nimrod came - From Afric wilds, where he had played the game - Until his cudgel bore a hundred nicks, - (A record this for all Prodigious Sticks) - To Germany. No pussyfoot was his, - But there was courage in his Nobel phiz; - And in his stride were energy and grace - Enough to make the goose-step commonplace. - I took him to my Palace, as my guest, - And poured libations from the cellar's _best_, - (He was a _certified_ non-drinker--See? - So just accord this proper secrecy!) - And then arranged to hold a Grand Review - Of all my Armies and Reservists too. - 'De-lighted!' said my guest, and nothing more, - As we reviewed my legions corps by corps; - But this blunt comment signified his zeal, - And so I mobilized my fleet at Kiel; - And on my Royal Yacht, my guest and I - Watched the maneuvres as my ships passed by. - 'De-lighted, Bill!' the Hardy Hunter shouted-- - 'With such a fleet I'd have the whole world routed; - And with your armies I would soon disperse - The Fighting Units of the Universe!' - Such praise was pleasing to my ears, altho - My Wasps and Devil-fish I didn't show: - I deemed it best to _meld_ this 'hundred aces' - When all my ships and men were in their places. - Had he seen _these_, I knew he would advise - The conquest of the Earth and Seas and Skies: - But, Shades of Bismarck! _that_, you understand - Might prove a strain upon the Fatherland. - And so I kept the Peace, but thought about - The many martial plans we figured out; - And how the cost of my Frontier Defences - Compared with his proposed campaign expenses. - You see, Mein Heir, this man was full of guile - And caused the War: this Bey of Oyster Isle. - He hypnotized me: put it in my mind - To be the Potentate of all Mankind! - So blame me not! The fault I must disown, - And put the guilt on Theodore alone! - Whatever comes anon, I'm not whipped yet! - And with it all, I have but one regret-- - That _he_ was not impressed to lead my drive - To Petersburg to take the Czar alive; - And then, a Marshal, ordered to Paree - To capture it and bring it back to me; - Then take my fleet, the English Channel over - And put King George to rout and bombard Dover; - And then supplant the Sultan, take his Fez - And lead my peerless Forces to Suez. - While _you_ have failed, and Hindenburg and Mack, - _He_ never fizzles when he makes attack. - See what I've missed! for, _see what he has done_! - And yet his vast campaign is just begun. - He leads his Legions, Bull Moose, Calf and Cow - To capture a Convention _even now_." - - * * * * * - - An orderly approached the Royal Pair - Just at this stage and left despatches there. - He stood at close attention, hand to head, - While this absorbing cablegram was read-- - "Outflanked and captured; resignation tendered; - Mooses dehorned and all the herd surrendered! - Am looking for another job already,-- - Would take the German Presidency--Teddy." - - * * * * * - - The Kaiser turned, looked at the Prince and wept, - While noxious gases o'er the bulwarks crept. - - - - -LOVE'S RECOMPENSE - - - "Do you really, truly love me, with a love that mocks at Fate?" - Cried the rustic, buxom maiden to her lover at the gate; - "Yes, my Pet! And when Dame Fortune smiles upon us we will wed; - I will strew your path with roses: Bear me witness, Gods o'erhead!" - Thus he spake unto his sweetheart, under Heaven's starry blue, - And the angels, smiling on him, heard his vow to "e'er be true." - Then he placed his arms around her--kissed her: they were in a trance! - And two _soles_ toward Heav'n were lifted as the bulldog grabbed his - pants. - - - - -ADAM'S ALE - - - Come, Comrades, gather 'round the festal board - And quaff the sparkling Water from the gourd! - _This_ is the drink that Adam's Tribe imbibed - Before the Wines of Gath were diatribed. - (Methinks some other brand was drunk by Cain - The day that Abel ruthlessly was slain.) - And won, against all other potions there, - The First White Ribbon at the Gaza Fair. - You'll never know, until you take a sip - Its power to soothe, and cool the fevered lip. - Had Noah _stuck to_ water he would shine - As undisputed Master of the Brine. - The Water-wagon that he launched, at first - Steered Noah straight but didn't cure his thirst: - So when he _spoke_ the Ararat Cafe - He soon fell off,--his rudder washed away. - But wallward turn the picture you're beholding - And hang more cheerful paintings on the moulding! - Behold a _watercolor_ of eclat! - This, fair Rebecca had the skill to _draw_: - She stands beside the well and plies the sweep, - While sweat and blushes o'er her features creep. - Such grace and poise, such strength and skill, - Such sweeping gestures and unbending will - Are indices of Abstinence complete; - (We can't abstain from loving you, Petite!) - Upon her head she rests the dripping urn - And goes straight home: she doesn't _dare_ to turn! - Don't stumble, Miss! Or suffer teasing boys - To cause derangement of your equipoise! - But keep your head and waver not at all - Lest you be deluged by the waterfall! - So daily to the pool Rebecca strayed - And drank the water, when she didn't wade: - And thus her framework waxed like iron; I trust - 'Twas ne'er assailed or undermined by rust. - So, fill the gourd and pass it to your friend! - It's Safety First and safety to the end. - No headaches lurk within, no tinge of sorrow, - No dark forebodings or remorse to-morrow! - And furthermore, it isn't hard to take: - If you've not tried it, _do_, for Mercy's sake! - Behold the Oaken Bucket, hanging high, - By Bards and Singers lauded to the sky. - It never touched, in all its useful days, - A thing but water. Here fair Psyche plays - Beside the spring that mirrors all her graces. - (Would you object to _water in_ such cases?) - Now mark the fate befalling Jack and Jill - Because they slipped and let the water spill; - And see poor Tantalus for water crying, - Thus punished for his sins,--athirst and dying! - And note this "Titian," called "The Drunkard's Fate," - In which the crimson hues predominate. - He holds the lamp-post in his close embrace - And has a package from Pat Murphy's place - To carry home. His eyes are red and dim, - So close the bar and turn the hose on him! - This drink was ever priceless, yet it's free; - The Source and Fountain of Sobriety; - And so we offer without bar or price - Enough of THIS to put your thirst on ice. - So drink to WATER, while the billows swell: - The World wants Prohibition--and all's WELL! - - - - -RUSSIA - - - Canst Thou, in all this babel, build aright - Freedom's Palladium? The long, black night - That, ages thru, hath dimmed your yearning eyes - And dulled your minds, still hovers o'er your skies. - A rift there was, disclosing to your view - The Dawn of Day, but then the darkness grew - Yet more intense, as if the Sun rebelled - At such a cheerless greeting and withheld - Its Light. And now again Night reigns supreme, - But just beyond the Day is all agleam. - - - - -BELGIUM - - - Sad-eyed and weary, Thou must suffer more, - Until thy supermen have paid the score - For outraged daughters, murdered sons and wives; - For ravaged homesteads, and brave soldiers' lives. - Be not dismayed! Altho your Cup of Woe - Is full to overflowing from the blow; - Tho Justice seems indifferent to your prayer, - And ruin stalks about you everywhere. - The day of reckoning is near at hand, - When Justice will restore your pillaged Land, - And Vengeance will unsheath its righteous blade - And flay the Teutons till your score is paid. - - - - -OUR FRIENDS ACROSS THE STREET - -(To S. and W. A.) - - - When we're tired of reading essays, - Tho they be a mental treat; - When we're bored by social callers, - Be they ever so elite; - When we crave some relaxation - Or the Foursome's incomplete, - We S. O. S. or telephone - To our Friends across the Street. - - When our larder needs renewing - Or our ice succumbs to heat; - When the signs of Drought are brewing - 'Cause our "stock" is incomplete; - And our chairs are insufficient - When we have some guests to seat, - Why, we just go out and borrow - From our Friends across the Street. - - When we're worried or in trouble, - And our projects meet defeat; - When our prospects seem quite hopeless,-- - Life seems bitter that was sweet; - When we lose our nerve and falter - 'Cause the rough way wounds our feet, - We can always find sweet comfort - In our Friends across the Street. - - When we end, at last, our journey - And the saintly Peter greet, - Or descend to Realms Infernal - Where the Goats, rejected, bleat, - We would never feel contented, - Whether mixed with Chaff or Wheat, - If we couldn't be together - With our Friends across the Street. - - - - -EPITAPHS - - - I left this Vale of Tears to gain repose, - And change, for Harp and Wings, my worldly clothes; - There's no redress, so if I _fall_ from grace - I'll be quite cool enough for _either_ place. - - Wed - Bled - Fled - Dead - Nufsed - - Go not the way I went, O Mortal Man! - But follow out a more successful plan, - Lest you, as I am now, remorseful be - For imitating U. S. Currency. - - For forty cents an hour I slaved - At Delpont's Powder Mills; - And all the money that I saved - Scarce paid my funeral bills. - - Erected to our father is this stone: - He couldn't leave the whiskey flask alone; - To Spirit World he vanished from our sight; - We hope he's very snug, and _know_ he's tight. - - Above the clouds I sojourn now, - The twinkling stars between, - Because I tried to figure how - To cook with gasolene. - - I'm _dead_ all right, but not quite _all right_ dead, - For schemes of vengeance hurtle thru my head; - My wife eloped, a cheating chicken she; - Forsook her nest, and then flew back to me - With all her brood: I love her as I useter - But I'm a-laying for that other Rooster. - - I followed Father with the rake - The day he scythed the clover; - So _green_, he cut _me_, by mistake - And my heydays were over. - - Here sleeps, at last, our little baby Yorick! - _We_ couldn't make him _without paregoric_. - - I'm not averse to being dead, - But this I do despise,-- - To have a tombstone at my head - Inscribed with blooming lies: - "A faithful spouse, a parent kind; - Alas, too soon he went!" - - But this is all they had in mind-- - To get my last red cent. - - Assembled here my Wife is, Helen Nation: - 'Twas gasoline that caused the separation, - Which shows how very short the mortal lease is,-- - I think 'twas lucky to have saved the pieces! - - Here let me rest without a sigh or tear, - I've learned my lesson--not to interfere! - If I could live my mortal life agin - I'd be a pussyfoot and not butt in. - - My Mother, famous for her pies - Lies buried 'neath this shaft; - I wonder if, in Paradise, - She still pursues her craft? - She'll be too much engrossed, 'twould seem, - In picking on the lyre - To give attention to a scheme - To bake without a fire. - But if perchance she had the dough - And couldn't make it rise, - I'm sure she'd know just where to go - To look for _heat_ supplies. - - He called me "Liar!" Like a flash - My honor I defended, - Until his razor cut a gash - So deep, that I was ended. - If I could live my life again - I'd not invite an issue - But say, when villified, Amen! - And thus preserve my tissue. - - - - -THE CONQUEST OF THE SUN - - - The Morning Sun, with golden dart, - Crept to Milady's bed; - And as he drew the screens apart - A halo crowned her head. - - Such radiance he'd never viewed; - Enraptured, he surveyed - Her virgin charms: beatitude! - He stooped and kissed the maid. - - Entranced because her splendor seemed - To dazzle as it shone, - He conjured all his wiles and beamed - Her burning cheeks upon. - - And then she woke, Milady fair, - Enchanted by his art, - To find, 'midst fires a slumb'ring there, - His dart had pierced her heart. - - And so the Morning Sun can gain - Milady when he tries, - But Midnight Sons must lose, 'tis plain, - Because they're late to rise. - - - - -OWED TO A ROACH - - - O, Thou, who thru the sink doth blithely go; - (O, Little Roach, how could you _sink_ so low?) - Who pipeth all your kin from kitchens near - Wherever crumbs of comfort may appear; - Who layeth siege, in mural cracks or trenches, - Where grease spots lure or rampant be the stenches; - Who hideth in the dough when bread is rising,-- - I ask you to a Feast, of my devising,-- - To eat these _powders_, 'round the plumbing placed, - Until your glutted carcass be effaced. - O, Little Roach, if you would selfish be - And not "ring in" your whole fool family, - We'd tolerate you: nay, a pet would make you - If you'd not scamper all our pie and cake thru! - - - - -THE MOODS OF THE WINDS - - - O, Breezes of Spring! - How they rollick and ring - With delight as they sing - Like birds on the wing. - - O, Zephyrs of May! - With your balm and bouquet; - How you gladden the day - Like Fairies at play. - - O, Winds of the Fall! - How they thrill and enthrall, - How they hurtle and call - With shrill caterwaul. - - O, Winter's bleak Breath! - How it freezes and saith - To the ice-vested wraith, - "Thou'rt shrouded in Death." - - - - -THE TOXIC TIPPET - - - 'Tis said that Mary, she of Reader note, - Was wrapped up in her lamb--her lambskin coat-- - E'en after his demise, beatified. - He served her well, and for his mistress dyed. - - Then Mary died, and took angelic form, - Because the lambskin (used to keep her warm) - Gave her the anthrax: what a cruel blow - To be thus snatched above from furbelow! - - - - -TWENTY-THIRD PSALM - - - My Shepherd careth for His flock: - Beneath a cloudless sky - In pastures green, by spring-cleft rock, - In luxury I lie. - - He brings contentment to my soul - And leads me to the Light, - By which I see the Heav'nly goal - From dismal depths of Night. - - Though Poverty attend my way - And sorrow fills my heart, - Thy Guidance will disaster stay, - So good and pure Thou art! - - Thou, in the presence of my foes, - Bestoweth favors rare, - And giveth pleasure and repose - In answer to my prayer. - - To such a Shepherd I will give - My everlasting love, - And glory in the Hope--to live - With Him, at last, Above. - - - - -FRIENDSHIP - - - True Friends are rare: who counts them by the score - Is blest indeed, for we have, seldom, more. - If we possess just one real, _trusting_ friend - Who shares our troubles, loyal to the end; - Who, when we fall, will help us to our feet; - Who finds with us contentment most complete; - Whose pocket-book and heart are open thrown - Whether we need affection or a loan, - And makes no record of the favor done, - But gives, with equal pleasure, either one-- - That's Friendship _true_! If I had twenty such, - With all their purses open to my touch, - And each disposed to "stake" me and forget - The circumstance and measure of the debt, - I'd soon be on the road to ease and plenty, - But wish I had _such_ friendships _more than twenty_. - - - - -PARAMOUNT PROBLEMS - - - Shall Women vote? Shall Demon Rum survive - Or be, thru Woman Suffrage, flayed alive? - These are the questions that engross the nation: - Shall Women vote or be kept on probation? - Are they not gentle, honest, sweet and kind? - A single missing virtue we can't find, - And yet we say--"Stay home and can the cherries! - You're far too frail and fine for statecraft worries! - The Sacred Home for you! Just 'tend your chicks! - You'd soil your hands to mix in Politics! - And then there's scrubbing, cooking and a few - Odd jobs besides: you couldn't ballot _too_!" - But how absurd! Fair Woman, in her wrath, - Will make our future course a thorny path: - Unless we meet her fairly in these matters, - She'll tear our senseless arguments to tatters, - And rule _both_ Home and State to suit herself, - Putting deceitful _man_ upon the shelf. - As sure as death or taxes, day or night, - She'll have the _vote_ without, or _with_ a fight; - And those of us who counsel Peace, as best, - Should not oppose and put her to the test; - And when she _gets_ the vote, by force or gift, - The clouds obscuring Temperance will lift; - For all the Wets will vanish, ev'ry one! - Evaporate like mists before the sun. - True, Women drink; it's foolish to deny it! - But not as men do--as a steady diet; - They'll take a punch, or sip a little claret, - But when it comes to liquor--they can't bear it. - And so we ask again--shall Women vote? - Shall men surrender to the petticoat - And give up all their freedom and their tipples - Just to return to Lacteal Life and Nipples? - The War is on! Nebraska bids defiance - To Rum Dispensers and the Booze Alliance: - Hereafter all our barley, wheat and corn - Will be quite unresponsive to the _horn_. - The _essence_ of the grain will be tabooed - And ev'ry seed accounted for as _food_. - No more will Barleycorn assail our vitals - Or be the Leader in our Song Recitals: - No more will Liquor check our ardent thirst, - And so we'll go from bad, perhaps, to worst. - If we must _eat_, perforce, and never rum it, - What will befall the man who has to gum it; - Whose teeth are absent and who food eschews, - Drawing his daily nourishment from booze; - Who can't obtain a single drop of gin - To comfort and sustain the man within? - Pleading for drinks, unheeded he'll grow wheezy, - But he'll improve his breath if he'll Speak Easy. - The Drunkard's fate would be a dreadful warning, - Who, having "opened" Riley's place each morning - Found, one cold dawn, the foot-rail gone and read-- - "Soft Drinks for Sale" where Schnapps was sold instead. - Picture his sorrow! See him pallid grow - When told the facts: a spectacle of woe! - Back to his wife he slinks: he couldn't face her! - Because he missed his usual "morning bracer." - The Place is sold: it's now a candy store - Where Schnapps will be dispensed _with_ evermore. - Good-bye, Old Demijohn; Decanters, too! - His life will empty be--and so are you! - Where once the Canteen flourished 'neath our flag, - Now Prohibition flags the soldier's jag; - And where Josephus keeps his arid log - The water-pitcher has succeeded grog. - Some Commonwealths already have the pluck - To ban, humanely, those who _chase the duck_; - And other States have punished Rum enough - To have compassion on the _boot-leg_ stuff. - Thus Prohibition grows: but so does wheat - And corn and rye: I wonder which will beat? - But what of Woman? Where's her rightful freedom? - They ought to have the vote, because we need 'em - To purge our land of drunkenness and crime - And save our striplings from the slough and slime. - Why _shouldn't_ Women vote? Perhaps they may! - Should Drunkards or Illiterates say nay? - Could citizens of foreign birth refuse - To give our Native Daughters what they choose? - Our Native Sons with chivalry invoke - Fair play for women,--freedom from the yoke; - And shouldn't other Freemen rise in flocks - To help our Women win the Ballot Box? - The trouble lies, not _here_, but with the Bosses - Who trade in graft and deal in _double crosses_. - The sooner we eliminate this class - The quicker will _full freedom_ come to pass. - But watch the Anti! Make her hold her tongue, - Or duck her in the pond, the geese among; - Or lock her in the booth, without a mirror, - Where she can't see herself and we can't hear her. - Thus, neck and neck, these two great questions lead: - Will men be equal to their Country's need? - If one Reform upon the other waits, - Speed Equal Suffrage to the White House gates, - - And Prohibition (Farewell, Dear old Liquor!) - Will follow as the tape pursues the ticker! - But if, perchance, the Dry's should get a trimmin', - _Smile_, if you please,--but don't _prohibit_ Women! - - - - -A REUNION - - - Once more, Good Friends, we're gathered 'round the board - To feel the joys of fellowship restored. - There's nothing like them! _Friends_ can't be replaced, - Nor thoughts of them from Memory be effaced! - Of course we form _new_ friendships, but I feel - That these, like _old_ ones, are not staunch and real. - It takes long years to _prove_ our friends, you know,-- - Those who are steadfast in our weal or woe. - So here's to you, Miss Prim! and you, Miss Prude! - We wouldn't have you different if we could! - Two Roses rare you are, and sweet; I ween - You were not doomed to bloom and blush unseen. - I've seen your cheeks suffused with crimson hues; - (Dame Nature's _make-up_ is the rouge you use!) - I've seen your lips in saucy challenge perked; - (But for your protests, they'd be overworked!) - I've seen your eyes with mischief filled and tears; - (But I could never _pity_ you, My Dears!) - I've seen your breasts with agitation heave; - (Your _hearts_ must be affected, I believe!) - I've seen your shapely forms pass in review - Before my lonely couch, in dreams of you,-- - And what I haven't seen, some little bird - Has told me all about. Upon my word, - If what he says be true, what I have _heard_ - To what I've seen, methinks, would be preferred. - Then here's to Friendship! What more potent force - Doth link mankind together? Love, of course, - Doth fetter us betimes, but Time must say - Whom we shall cherish, whom to cast away. - When Love and Friendship, heart and hand, are bound, - What more of Joy can compass us around? - So, Friends and Sweethearts, Comrades tried and true, - We pledge our love and loyalty to you! - - - - -THE CRUISE OF THE SQUIRREL - - - Somewhere, sometime, I've heard it said, or read - That Fools butt in where Angels fear to tread. - A single "Angel" with a Pack of Fools - Is not enough to change established rules; - And so, I think, the "Angel" in this case - Should bear, alone, the onus and disgrace,-- - For Angels should know better than to swoop - Upon the Dove of Peace and fowl her coop. - The Good Ship Squirrel has left our shores behind - To measure human breath 'gainst Ocean Wind. - "Laden with Nuts" her clearance shows. Four Bells! - She's off! to fight for Peace with all those shells. - No Port, however, figures in her quest, - Her "papers" show,--and this is manifest! - - The Dove of Peace, perched on the mizzen-top, - Hath disappointments sticking in her crop. - The peaceful bird is shy and very frail; - Can't stand the weight of salt upon her tail; - The War has made her nervous, and the roar - Of many cannon made the poor bird soar. - - Up springs a storm! The Dove's white feathers show, - While Nuts are cracking on the deck below. - And then an iceberg looms against the sky, - But still the Dove is far too proud to fly; - But when, anon, a periscope appears - The Bird of Peace is overcome by fears, - And "beats it" to the iceberg's crystal crest, - Where she prepares to build her neutral nest. - - The Submarine atop the billows now, - Stands by the Squirrel until she dips her bow - And sinks beneath the waves; then looks above - And takes a parting broadside at the Dove. - The "Angel" then, in Neptune's sky-machine - Ascendeth in a blaze of gasoline; - The Dove, marooned, broods over many things, - Nestling her poor _cold feet_ beneath her wings. - - * * * * * - - Regenerate, the Angel has returned - From empyrean Flight, to Earth, and learned - (I think Saint Peter gave him sound advice!) - To keep the Pacifistic Germ on ice - Until a Luther, if there still remains - One decent man where Wilhelm Caesar reigns, - Denounces all the crimes of Germany, - And proselytes to crush Autocracy. - - - - -JINGLES - - - Little Bo Peep - Went fast to sleep; - Losing her sheep. - There were ninety and nine of these lambkins that fled - When poor, little Bo was asleep in her bed; - And when they returned they were _mutton_ instead. - O, what a stew! - 'Twixt me and yew - What could Bo do? - - O! Jack and Jill - Went up the hill, - Their pail to fill. - The water was _running_: they didn't pursue, - But filled up their growler with Double X Brew, - And Jill, in a measure, was full, and Jack too. - Both had a thirst: - Jack's was the worst: - He tumbled first. - - Horner boy Jack - Had the right knack; - Cornered the snack. - His fortune grew fast from that one Christmas plum; - His profits on 'Change showed a marvelous sum, - Till he soon had Financialdom under his thumb. - O! what a wiz! - Jack knew his biz: - All now is his. - - Good old King Cole, - "Merry old Soul," - Knew how to _bowl_. - No high-balls were spared at his nocturnal spread, - And the fumes of the liquor would strike in his head - Till, knocked off his pins, he was set up in bed. - Jackass or king - Will have his fling: - Naughty, Old Thing. - - Old Lady Drew - Lived in a shoe: - Children there too. - Their home was too cramped for a dozen or more, - But others have suffered from tight shoes before, - So the latch-string was always hung out on the door. - To upper skies - Good old sole flies, - With all her ties. - - The Drews and Jack Horner lived on the same street: - Jack gambled with Hymen and Drew Marguerite, - And love for his sole-mate affected his feet. - There ne'er was a "comeback" to poor Jack and Jill; - The King followed after them going "down hill," - And Bo, left alone, is a sheepish maid still. - - - - -THE WEIGHT OF LOVE - - - I was sitting in the parlor - With my Sweetheart on my knee, - And the fireplace lights and shadows - Silhouetted her and me. - - Heavy grew she towards the morning, - When the gold-fringed sunbeams leap: - _She_ was wide awake as ever - But my leg was fast asleep. - - Flesh is weak and so I shifted - My loved load, as best I could, - From the numb knee to the other; - From the leg of flesh to wood. - - Then I felt my Sweetheart shiver, - And I realized her state - When she drew a white-ash sliver - From the leg _articulate_. - - - - -DO IT! - - - Dare to do it! - You'll not rue it - If you save some Human Craft - From the rocks where fierce gales blew it, - Using Kindness for a raft. - - O, dare to do! - Be kind and true - To the friends you make thru life; - Then High Heaven will reward you - With immunity from strife. - - If a Lion - Were a dyin', - Would you go into his lair - And attempt to soothe his cryin'? - Do it! Do it, if you _dare_! - - - - -AMENITIES - - - The Parson tied the Hymen knot - That made two halves a whole; - The while a speculating what - Would be his marriage toll. - - The Groom, when he had kissed the Bride, - Was taken with the chills: - Her icy lips could not abide - Osculatory thrills. - - But soon his fever was effaced; - His hand obeyed his will, - And in the Parson's palm he placed - A soiled One Dollar Bill. - - "Anathema!" the preacher cried,-- - "Thou reptile of the Earth!" - The Groom replied--"Then take the Bride! - I think it's all she's worth!" - - - - -"DANSER SUR UN VULCAN" - - - Now goeth forth the Swell elite, - With patent leathers on his feet; - With collar spotless, cuffs to suit, - In truth bon-ton, from hat to boot. - - A bootblack, with an eye to biz, - With dirty hands and ugly phiz, - Beholds him as he goes, and throws - Banana peels beneath his toes. - - Along the pave Adonis trips; - He steps upon the peel, and slips - Into the juicy gutter: - His eyes are filled with fire and ire, - But water, muck and mire conspire - To drown the words he'd utter. - - -L'ENVOI - - Go where you will, the stars will _shine_, - And so will Tony, I opine: - But O! the stars Adonis spied - When he went "out," a sewerside. - - - - -AT THE BULGING UDDER TIME - - - Years have passed since I, an urchin, - Drove the Cow, so sleek and prime, - Down the path, where crows were perchin' - At the Bulging Udder Time. - - Those were days well worth one's living, - When I watched, with joy sublime, - What the generous Cow was giving - At the Bulging Udder Time. - - Later on, when we grew older, - Father gave us each a dime-- - Me and Bill--to milk and _hold_ her, - At the Bulging Udder Time: - - But, alas! we came to grieving: - Bill was kicked and smeared with grime, - And the Cow boo-booed on leaving-- - "Come around some _udder_ time!" - - - - -VAGARIES - - - The husky Corn has pushed ahead with silken locks atop; - O, Brother, ain't it shocking? - And Colonels are expecting quite a bumper Bourbon crop-- - Saloonward they are flocking! - But when they strip the ears and find the wasteful worms surrounding, - 'Twill make the "moonshine" dimmer; - For ev'ry still has coils of worms illicitly abounding - Where sour-mash mixtures simmer. - The hillside Stills their fragrance breathe, and wood birds are a - sounding; - My jug is in the hollow: - So fill it up, but watch your step and Secret Service hounding! - The scent is sweet to follow. - - The Cotton Bolls are bursting forth with weevils in the sepals; - Come, Dinah, get to picking! - And rush the staple to the mart to clothe the naked peoples! - Or you will get a licking! - The baleful Gins are all prepared to do the fibre-squeezing: - Get busy, Massa Willie! - And set the weevils back a bit, and save the folks from freezing! - It's getting powerful chilly! - You Pickaninnies hustle now, and do the proper bagging! - The possum's cooking, Honey! - And when the work is thru we'll do our banjo stunts, and ragging - And get our "Cakewalk" money. - - - - -A SHATTERED ROMANCE - - - My heart is aflame with a love that enslaves - My passion for thee is afire; - My soul is athirst for the love that it craves, - And you are the one I admire. - - Pray speak, Dear! and say your affections are mine, - And all the sweet charms you possess; - Then I will surrender my wishes to thine - And be but thy slave, I confess. - - When she answered, at length, I felt very sure - I'd pleaded my cause quite enough; - "You're the one man on earth I _couldn't endure_, - So cut out that comedy stuff!" - - - - -THE MILKY WAY - - - I went to school, like any lad, - And learned to read and write: - With pencil, books and writing-pad - I grew quite erudite. - - Promoted soon, my Teacher thought - I would some day, be great; - And so painstakingly he taught - Me how to conjugate. - - And talked to me about the Moon, - Of Venus, Saturn, Mars, - Till I was rated, very soon, - Authority on Stars. - - A graduate, I searched the skies - For orbs unknown before, - Determined that I'd specialize - In Astronomic lore: - - But how to buy a telescope - And all the charts required? - An _attick_ was my only hope - Of all the things desired: - - And so I compromised and bought - Binoculars and case, - And ev'ry night the Stars I sought - At Daly's Burlesque Place. - - The one, bright, meteoric Flame - In all that stellar group, - Soon _fell for me_; then took my name - And quit the Burlesque Troupe. - - But I'm eclipsed! the Satellite - That twinkles in the crib, - Keeps Mother _pinning_, day and night, - A didy or a bib. - - - - -THE LOGOTHETE - - - "Beware the dog!" Beware the Logothete! - The Octoped with elephantine feet: - (I mean by this--with the _big understanding_; - The Byzantine Pup of Theodore's branding.) - A thousand years chained to Hellespont's brink, - He never once whimpered or lapped up a drink. - Hydrophobia? No! just aphasia, - 'Cause he couldn't cross over to Asia. - - The old Logothete is the Watch Dog of State: - He feeds upon figures (he'll cipher an eight!) - And starts ev'ry meal with a twelve or sixteen, - Then multiplies units to munch on between. - Voracity thus as an integer stands - For his diurnal gorge on multiplicands. - Numerical strength makes the Logothete thrive, - And fractions he dotes on--just eats 'em alive! - - He lashes his tail by Marmora's flood, - But eats from the hand of Sultan Ahmud; - A collar of gold, set with aquamarines, - Makes him the envy of Justin's near-queens; - His Kennel-Kiosque (the hyphen's germane!) - Rivals the harems of Constantine's reign. - Innocuous? No! nor yet desuetude, - For he daily absorbs whole columns of food. - - His teeth are as sharp as the Damaskeene blade - That severed the chains on the Macedon maid; - And as keen as the knife avenging the dame - Who was sold to the Sheik in Mesopotame. - But the point that I make--no whimper or yelp - Had ever been voiced by this Logothete whelp - Until Archaeologists, searching the grounds, - Unearthed dogmatisms and bitumen sounds - Of the highest known pitch, resembling a whine - Or unrav'ling snarls of the Octopedine. - And thus they've exploded the silence complete - Tradition ascribes to the old Logothete[1]-- - And so, in unleashing this Byzantine Pup, - They merit grave censure for _digging things up_. - -[1] From _Logos_ (word) and _Thete_ (Theodore)--The word of Theodore. - - - - -THE PRICE OF PEACE - - - There's music in the Eagle's shriek; - There's ditto in the Lion's roar, - But discord marks the Bolshevik - Because the Bear doth growl no more. - - The Dogs of War are out of tune,-- - No harmony doth move the critters: - Unless they cease their fighting soon - The wounded whelps will have no litters. - - Jerusalem! the Turk is spent! - The bagpipes took his breath, I think. - The Crescent now is badly bent, - And Allah's cause is on the blink. - - The Bulgar too has shot his bolt, - And soon will quit--the poor pariah! - For now there's rumor of revolt - In Ananias and Sofia. - - The Hun is playing with the Slav-- - The Kremlin Mouse and Potsdam Cat; - But Cossack, too, can smear the salve, - And 'twixt them twain doth Peace fall flat. - - Some day the Dove of Peace will swoop - With long, befigured _bill_, and put it - Against the Vulture-Kultur coop - And make the Prussian Junkers _foot it_. - - - - -MEN HAD HORNS THEN - - - Newspaper Item, Athens, Pa., July 29: The archaeologists who - are traversing the Susquehanna River Valley, visiting sites of - Indian villages and digging up aborigines and other relics, are - said to have made a most astounding discovery on the Murray - farm, near here, in finding the bones of sixty-eight - pre-historic men. The average height of these men when their - skeletons were assembled was seven feet, while many were much - taller. Additional evidence of their gigantic size is found in - the massive stone battle axes in their graves. The average age - of these men is said to have been from thirty to forty. Another - amazing point of this discovery is the allegation that - "perfectly formed skulls were found from which horns grew - straight out from the head." - - The Homestead of Satan, they say, has been found - Near Athens, P. A., in a hole in the ground; - And people are flocking from Athens and Sayre - To view the remains of their ancestors there. - - When Satan established himself in this zone - He found it distasteful to live all alone; - So he went to Towanda in quest of a bride, - And then tilled the soil till his seed multiplied. - - So scores of young Devils at Murray's were born - That measured five cubits between hoof and horn. - Each one was equipped with a tail and two wings, - And _asbestos garments_ at Nick's Sulphur Springs. - - And that's why you find all their skeletons here - In good preservation: but isn't it queer - That Devils at Athens, the place of their birth, - Were the sole legatees of Hell upon Earth? - - But Devils, like men, reach the ends of their ropes, - And have disappointments and unfulfilled hopes,-- - So Satan discovered, too late we are told, - The climate at Murray's was too beastly cold. - - His imps all contracted pneumonia and died; - So he buried them here in the Pit, side by side, - Near Athens, P. A., by the River Chemung, - Where they've been unmolested till now, and unsung. - - And there their bones bleached, in the Sulphuric Pits, - Until Archaeologists came with their kits - And made excavations, not thinking of harm, - But raising the devil at Rube Murray's Farm. - - Now Satan's _exposed_ and his ossified get, - (A few yet remain in the flesh, I regret!) - And Murray of Athens is living, I wot - On skeletons dug from this Hell-enic spot. - - - - -SUB ROSA - - - The Busy Bee, to gather honey, goes - Touching the clover bloom and then the rose; - An easy prey, the clover blossom yields - Its treasures garnered from the fragrant fields; - But all the sweetness that the rose adorns, - Protected is from theft by jealous thorns. - The Bee, ergo, in quest the flowers among, - Gets sometimes honey and gets sometimes _stung_. - - - - -WHITMANESQUE - - - The snow is falling on the hemlock boughs: - Courage, Comrade, Spring will come again! - The birds are leaving the evergreen trees, - And that's why they are not deciduous. - O, Winter! I shake thy icy hand, - And, shaking, shovel the beautiful snow: - But what shall I do with such an abundance? - It is already piled high in my neighbor's yard, - And he is watching me from his attic window. - And yet more snow! How pure you seem tho' falling! - - - - -AN APEOLOGY - - - This is the Ape, made famous, you'll agree, - By Darwin's Evolution Theory. - His destiny fulfilled, he rests at ease - With tribal Apes, Baboons and Chimpanzees; - Preferring, so, to recreation find, - Than with his tailless counterpart, Mankind, - A doubtful branch of his posterity: - And makes a _monkey_, thus, of you and me. - - - - -THE BUG - - - This is the Bug, unable to resist - The blandishments of Entomologist. - He soon succumbs to net or trap or pin - And fills his place the _cabinet_ within. - A volume then explains his habits, source, - And all his secrets and his aims of course; - Which leads me to conclude, when facts are dug, - The Man of Science is the biggest "Bug." - - - - -WAKE, MY LOVE! - - - Darling, I my vigil keep - Close beside you, while you sleep. - Let the Dream of Love abide! - Cupid will not be denied; - For he whispers to you now, - And prints kisses on your brow; - While his velvet finger tips - Hush the protest on your lips. - Wake, My Love! And do not chide - Cupid pleading by your side! - - Darkness lingers in the skies - Till the light of your bright eyes - Adds new brilliance to the sun: - Not till then is Day begun! - Ope your lips and speak one word-- - Sweetest cadence ever heard! - Loose your tresses! Let them rest - On your snowy, virgin breast, - And entwine these roses rare - In the ringlets nestling there. - - Wake, My Love! The sunbeams shed - Golden treasures on your head; - While AEolus woos your cheeks, - And exacts the kiss he seeks. - Love, aquiver, draws his bow - - And demands that sleep must go; - For a jealous elf is he - Who will brook no rivalry. - So let Love a Kingdom make - In his Heart for Thee: Awake! - - - - -FIRST PSALM - - - Happy indeed is he who goes - The Straight and Narrow Way, - And heedeth not the lure of those - Who from His precepts stray. - - With joy observeth he the acts - The Master doth proclaim, - And, day or night, no fervor lacks - To bless His holy name. - - And he shall be a fruitful tree - Deep-rooted in the Truth; - And not a leaf shall withered be - Nor fruitage cease, forsooth. - - But those who follow not the Course - The Master hath decreed, - Shall shrivel and decay, perforce, - And barren be their seed. - - It follows then, that those who sin - Must turn again to clay, - While righteous men are gathered in - On Resurrection Day. - - For God rewards the Pure in Heart - And knoweth all their needs; - While those who from his ways depart - Shall be like broken reeds. - - - - -_NOT_ PEACE, BUT REVENGE! - - - Peace? do you say? When my homestead is razed, - And Death stalks the fields where my cattle once grazed; - And the Dear One is dead - Whom I courted and wed, - The Joy of my Life when the hearthstone fires blazed. - - Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wife - And the brave little son, who gave up his life - That she might escape - From the murder or rape - Of helmeted hordes in the unequal strife! - - Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your shoes! - Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse. - He was true to his Land, - So you cut off his hand - And left him but slav'ry or famine to choose. - - Peace? My wounds cry aloud: Never! I say - Till your legions are killed or driven away - And my country is free: - But, stay! What's that to me, - Since all my own Loved Ones lie murdered to-day? - - No!! _Not_ Peace, but REVENGE! Here is my gun-- - Surrendered? O, No! for its work is not done: - When my bayonet's sting - Smites the heart of your King, - And your hell-hounds are flayed,--_then_ Peace will be _won_! - - - - -HEREDITY - - - I see her creeping 'long the nursery floor,-- - A dainty, blue-eyed Babe, scarce old enough - To realize 'tis _she_ whom I adore,-- - She is a priceless diamond in the rough. - - Again I see her playing with a host - Of noisy, kindergarten girls and boys; - She seems to me the fairest and the most - Refined: a _pure gold_ girl without alloys. - - And thus from stage to stage I watch the maid - As she develops like the budding rose, - And then, Ah me! I'm jealously afraid - That she admires me less than other beaux. - - And then, anon, I see her on the knee - Of Willie Jones: I think she shouldn't oughter! - But then my Courtship Days come back to me-- - _Just like her Ma!_ She is my only Daughter! - - - - -THE CALL OF THE HOMESTEAD - - - There's a dear, little spot, near my Hoosier hometown, - Where the mortgage runs up as the buildings run down, - That I love to return to, a restful retreat, - Just to slush around there with the mud on my feet. - - There's the forked, wormy apple-tree, dead to the bark, - And the sickle and grindstone, brought out of the Ark; - And the Shed, where I fled, with my illicit pipe, - To assuage stomach-aches when green apples were "ripe." - - There's the collar and churn, _worn_ by Dash day by day, - And the chain that prevented his running away; - And the yoke for the oxen--Haw, Buck! and Gee, Bride! - And the Troth for the Squealers the hen-house beside. - - There's the Dovecote, unroofed, and the sweep by the well, - And the ooze in the barnyard and natural-gas smell: - There's the hayrake and silo; the tin weathervane, - And the two, moss-grown graves where the Old Folks were lain. - - And the milk-stools are there, and the cowpath and stile; - And a few hardy scarecrows remain yet awhile; - And the taxes, unpaid, still appear on the book - Of the County Collector, Nathaniel U. Crook. - - So I keep coming back, to my old Hoosier shack, - To inhale the sweet mildew of hay in the stack, - And to drink from the spring where the bull-frogs abound - That protect the young cowslips that grow all around. - - Now the mortgage is due and the int'rest unpaid, - And I can't get a cent for the place, I'm afraid; - But I love to return here, at vacation time, - Just to revel again in the mud and the slime. - - - - -DECIMAL POINTS - - - The Paleface undertook, with sword and gun, - To civilize the Redskins one by one; - And Lo attempted, with his bow and arrow, - To sap the Paleface of his very marrow. - As fast as one, on either side, was slain - Another took his place to fight again; - Thus both the warring tribes said--"What's the use?" - And straightway called a halt and signed a truce. - - Then Paleface planned and dug--and _well_ of course-- - A pit for Lo, without resort to force; - And Lo, in turn, a counter plan invented - To clear the forests where the Paleface tented. - And so the Paleface, from his fullness, gave - A cask of Laughing Water to each Brave; - And Lo, whose giving was an artful knack, - Took up the scent and sent tobacco back. - So, Time discloses how each plan availed; - Which won, at last, and which, in order, failed, - For now in _Peace_ the Paleface moves about, - While Lo and Laughing Water _fight it out_. - - He was the first to fly--Darius Green! - But Green had trouble with his _crude_ machine - And failed to make a mark for lofty flying, - And so he just _dropped out_ and gave up trying. - - The Pickaninny to the bayou goes - And caches on the bank his homespun clothes; - Then headlong leaps into the pool below - Where Imps of Darkness destined are to go. - An alligator sees the urchin dive - And, Holy Moses! swallows him alive, - Not thinking that the Afric _strength_, thus caged, - Would prove his match and master when engaged: - But so it did! for Fate evolved a plan - To snatch the "charcoal" from the saurian; - And as the latter spewed and lashed his tail, - (A tale like Jonah wrestling with the whale) - The lad escaped; of course he had to shout some! - So overjoyed was he at such an _outcome_. - - When Aaron Burr decided to invite - His hated rival to a pistol fight, - He knew, of course, because his aim was wicked, - That his opponent, in advance, was licked. - And thus the scheme of Providence began - To canonize the Hamiltonian. - - Had Mary tied her lambkin in the barn, - There might have been a different kind of yarn. - She could have said "I leave you" with the bull, - Or "I'll return anon," and pulled the wool; - - The lamb could have replied--"What's all this for? - I'll meet you, Mary, in the abattoir!" - But No! They had to make the sheep the goat - And tie a siren bell around his throat, - And make him go to school. "Kids," as a rule, - Would rather _much_ be killed than go to school. - - Had Nero played on burning Rome the hose - Instead of fiddling while the blazes rose, - He might have been, in Fame's Retort, a hero, - Firemano Primo Volunteero Nero. - But quite another part this Caesar played, - The part of Arson in red robes arrayed. - He watched the fire, in all its flares and phases, - Quite unconcerned, but fiddled on like blazes. - But Nero didn't finish what he started - Because, while Rome still burned, his E string parted. - Tho Julius Caesar's Wars our lives inspire - This Caesar wouldn't even fight a fire; - Nor would he lead the Roman Legions, tho - He was reputed skillful with the bow; - Perhaps the smoke-screen from the burning city - Was planned to hide the discords of his ditty; - And when at last this King is placed on trial, - This verdict will prevail,--his work was viol. - - Had Antony been less a Marc and kept - His armor on while Cleopatra slept, - He might have been a Conqueror of note - Instead of Captor of a Petticoat; - And, traitor to his country, judged to be - A Soldier less than Slave to Lingerie. - Some Commentators--and I blush with shame-- - Contend that "Cle" and Sheba were the same: - If this contention's true, as I surmise, - It follows that King Solomon was wise; - And so was Sheba when she left his regions - By camel-carriage for the Roman Legions,-- - Leaving the King, with all his wives and breeders, - To pine for her among the stately cedars. - I'm not quite sure, but who's the bigger dunce? - The King? Or Marc, who got in wrong _but once_? - - The oldtime Reader taught us self-reliance - (But this refers to school-days--not to Science!) - And pointed out, in no uncertain style, - Examples we should follow or revile. - Old Rover, for example, was to me - The highest standard of true loyalty. - He used to hang around the playground gate - And there for Bones, his Master, sit and wait, - Though Bones, poor dunce, each day when school was over, - Was kept and spanked, but waited still old Rover. - - The Reader states that Rover, too, was fleet, - And never knew the anguish of de feet; - And had a face so honest, ear so quick, - That he could steal a bone and dodge a stick. - That's all the Reader says, but I believe - He grew too diabetic to retrieve, - And so was cast aside--the poor old brute! - Because the mange affected his hirsute; - Was driven from the confines of his birth - Because not prized: Great Scott! a Kennelworth: - And so, a rover still, thus doomed to flea - Far from his home and consanguinity; - But, cast adrift in sinking bark, O, Setter! - Than wienerwursts or sausages is better! - - There was a time when Henry Clay awoke - To see his fame and name go up in smoke. - His reputation only went this far, - That he was featured as a choice cigar. - Before that day, when his renown was ripe, - He also was distinguished as a pipe. - Eliminating all attempts at joking, - He was thus honored then, and still is smo-King. - - Had Eve, a woman of unusual birth, - Who had the love of ev'ry man on earth, - Been given what the modern wife receives, - Fine frocks and hats instead of wreaths and leaves; - A mansion, bank-account and car or carriage, - Hers would have been the first ideal marriage. - But selfish Adam took her to a cavern - (Our present bridal parties seek a tavern.) - And made her wash and sew and hem and haw - With fitting meekness 'cause his word was law. - First Lady of the Land, she should have had 'em-- - All creature comforts but the stingy Adam. - Faithful to husband, she should have instead - Broken her marriage vows upon his head. - No wonder she was tempted: if she fell - 'Twas circumstantial, else she wouldn't tell. - - - - -BELLES-LETTRES - - - Hear the perfume of the belles, - Social belles! - What a loud auroma, a monopoly in smells! - How they stinkle, stinkle, stinkle, - When the corsage bursts in sight! - While the powder in each wrinkle - And the gewgaw gems that twinkle - Make them ugly in the light; - Reeking scent, scent, scent, - When they're upright, prone or bent - While the sachet begs for freedom, and the musk, revolting, yells - On the belles, belles, belles, belles, - Belles, belles, belles, - On the weary, bleary, smeary Social Belles. - - Hear the monstrous Schoolhouse bells, - Direful bells! - What a dirge of irony their ting-a-ling expels! - Like the chanticleer at morn, - How they torture us, and warn - We must hurry or be canned - At call of roll. - How they peel their tunics and - Whoop 'er up, with tireless tongues, to beat the band; - What a toll! - - O, you blatant, brazen shells! - You ringers for Mephisto, from superheated hells, - With your knells! - Truth compels - That we voice our joy with yells - 'Cause you're hung and bound in cells - While we're swearing and despairing, - O, you bells, bells, bells, - Wicked bells, bells, bells, bells, - Bells, bells, bells, - O, you rocking, mocking, shocking Schoolhouse bells! - - - - -SANDY, THE PIPER - - - Do ye know me mon Sandy,--Sandy the Piper? - 'E's 'ome on a leave, with 'is chin shot away! - They wouldn't a 'armed 'im, but some blooming sniper - Just slipped 'im a slug from a roof in Bombay. - - 'Ow did it all 'appen? Well, just one battalion - Was left in the Barracks: the rest 'ad been sent - To guard the new Viceroy, with Major MacCallion: - It was dubbed the "'Ot Scotch," this 12th Regiment. - - The Colonel was sick with a Jungle disorder, - And 'arf of the time was well out of 'is 'ead; - And when the Sepoys, from the 'Yderbad Border - Revolted and rushed us, the Colonel was dead. - - So Sandy and men were besieged and near choking, - And most the battalion was killed or 'ad fell, - While the fiends in the street, like devils a stoking, - Were firing this 'ell 'ole with bullet and shell. - - 'Twas 'ere that me Sandy broke out thru a window, - Disguised as a Rajah, with turban and sword; - And so, quite unnoticed (they thought him a Indoo!) - 'E soon joined the ranks of the mutinous 'orde. - - And then 'e 'arrangued 'em ('e knew all their jargon!) - And urged 'em to scatter and uphold the law; - But 'ere 'e was thru 'e was sick of 'is bargain - When a bloody bomb-bullet 'alf shattered 'is jaw. - - So Sandy's back 'ome, but his features are altered: - What a close shave 'e 'ad! 'is face is a sight! - But when duty called 'e was there and ne'er faltered: - With toot, shoot or Hoot, Mon! 'e mixed in the fight. - - 'Is goatee is gone, with the chin where 'e grew it: - 'E was once very bonnie when 'e was a lad; - And 'is bagpipe would charm me: my, 'ow 'e blew it! - When 'e marched with 'is squad, a playing like mad. - - And I makes o'er 'im still, tho Sandy's not pretty, - But a 'ero 'e is in Northlands and South: - A gude wife I've been, tho I think it a pity - That Sandy was given to _shoot off 'is mouth_. - - - - -"BEN BOLT" - - - Ben Franklin was a Jester of the sort - That fused, with wit, rare wisdom in retort; - And, on his mettle, tempered by a smile - His irony could hold them _all_ awhile. - King Louis' Court to impotence made plea - Before the onslaughts of his repartee. - His well-aimed jibes were quite as hard to dodge - As meteors agleam with persiflage. - His oily tongue worked on a swinging swivel, - For he _spat out_ his thoughts and didn't drivel. - The Quakers, in his absence, had attacks - Of blues, because they missed his almanacs; - And Frenchmen soon began to understand - And praise his jokes (in England contraband). - He said to Louis, "Sire, the skies are down; - I wouldn't give a Fillip for your crown." - And added, "Nay, I wouldn't give a sou! - There's just one Philip, but sixteen of you!" - He had no fear, you see, of raining Kings, - And, with umbrella raised, enjoyed his flings. - Such pointed puns _disfavor_ oft beget, - But Louis laughed and so did Lafayette. - Tho galley slave, like creatures of his type, - He broke his chains, when Freedom's plans were ripe, - And put the U. S. A. upon the chart, - Allied to France, thru diplomatic art. - To-day Ben Bolt, who clipped the lion's claws, - For lightning work gets thunderous applause. - The thunderbolts obeyed at his command, - And currents, insubordinate, were canned. - He kept the Upper Regions on the string - And shocked the Lower World like everything. - All praise to Franklin, Diplomatic Star! - He went where he was sent, but not _too far_: - And tho he flew his mortal kite so high, - Poor Richard's name illuminates the sky. - - - - -EXCELSIOR - - - The bale consigned to O. U. Crook, - Upholsterer--marked, USE NO HOOK, - Was not curled hair or even moss, - Nor yet a mixture or a cross, - Excelsior! - - "This Davenport was made to wear; - Fine leather and best camel hair!" - Said Crook (a patent skin all right, - But all the "hair" was out of sight). - Excelsior! - - And so Crook sold the lounge or couch - To some poor Boob with gold-filled pouch; - And also sold an easy chair - (The Easy Mark was stuffed for fair.) - Excelsior! - - And thus he plied his artful trade - (A better Craftsman ne'er was made) - Until the shavings, dyed and curled, - Resembled hair for all the world. - Excelsior! - - O, baleful occupation his! - The way he made his mattresses - Would make a lounging layman sick. - He sold for cash and gave no tick tick-- - Excelsior! - - A mark-down sale Crook staged in time-- - "Such bed-rock prices are a crime," - "I get my hair by camel-train": - But all his "hair" was cut in Maine-- - Excelsior! - - And then a fire occurred at length - To bolster Crook's financial strength: - The _glue_ that mocked the incensed air - Mistaken was for burning hair; - Excelsior! - - Beware the pine-tree's fibrous heart! - But this gave Crook his fiscal start, - And now a tall, pine shaft is seen - Above Crook's grave; 'tis evergreen-- - Excelsior! - - - - -HER AND HIM - -HER - - - To-day's her birthday: I'll not say which one,-- - But I have known her twenty years or more - When courtship days were joyously begun, - And she had reached her sixteenth year, before. - - And so her age is no concern of mine: - She may have dropped a birthday now and then, - But surely she's improved with age like wine: - I wouldn't wish her in her _teens_ again. - - And she's my Pal! O, yes, we love, of course! - But feel, besides, the joy of comradeship - That finds expression at Love's very source - In language of the heart--not of the lip. - - And so she is my everlasting pride: - To Beauty's very pinnacle she's grown! - Thru life we'll seek our pleasures side by side; - Her heart athrob with love for me alone. - - - -HIM - - O, yes! we're splendid friends, Old Jack and I: - He's growing grave and wrinkles now appear - Where once the smiles his cheeks were wont to ply. - He's losing all his energy, I fear. - - I married him some twenty years ago - When dancing was a chief delight of his; - But now alone I trip the Terpsic toe, - For poor, old Jack has got the rheumatiz. - - He's aging fast: I see it every day! - He's fat and short of breath, yet how he snores! - His few remaining hairs are saffron-grey, - For nicotine keeps oozing from his pores. - - He seems so childish, but I humor him - Altho my friends declare I'm such a dunce. - Wrinkled, rheumatic; bare of brains and vim-- - Good-bye, Old Jack! You were a good one _once_! - - - - -THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIVING - - - We bivouac here and barely get acquainted - Until the furlough ends; then we are sainted, - Whether our acts deserve rebuke or praise. - When we are _dead_ the recollection stays - Of virtues only: vices are excused, - But to the _living_ pardon is refused. - And yet, alive, I'd rather be unsung, - Than any Saint the catacombs among. - Tho critics flay me and the censors sneer, - 'Twere better so, than praises on my bier. - And so we walk life's slender rope till, bing! - We slip and fall or someone cuts the string. - Ambition lures us, but the pinkest peach - Is always just beyond us, out of reach: - And when, at last, we think we are in line - To cross the threshold, lo! the Full House sign. - We never quite obtain the golden urn - Tho rainbows beckon every way we turn. - Who ever found, I ask you, all he sought? - Our best endeavors ofttimes come to naught: - And yet we trudge along, loath to confess - We're only groping in a wilderness; - Plodding the sands that burn our feet, and hurt; - Seeking the Promised Land, our just desert. - Had Caesar reached the zenith of his life - When Brutus cut his friendship with the knife? - The ladder broke and he was headlong flung - While setting foot upon the topmost rung. - Thus picture Caesar giving up the ghost - Just when he reached the pinnacle, almost! - Did Bonaparte receive his proper due? - He _got_ it, but too late, at Waterloo. - He played with fire, aroused the seething crater, - And now, with Nick, inhabits the Equator. - So we conclude, delving the lines between, - He might as well have clung to Josephine. - Tho Tell's renown illumes the Alpine sky - Whose target was the Apple of his eye, - As much distinction, and applause to boot, - Should be bestowed on William's steady _shoot_: - More praise to him, than the Toxopholite, - Who held the apple but eschewed a bite! - The _worst_ of us hath goodness in his breast; - The _best_ of us but fails, put to the test,-- - So, in arrears, we strive to pay the price - For Fortune's frowns or Fate's disastrous dice - Until we're bankrupt or too spent to wrest - Long hoped-for treasure from Mad Mammon's chest. - Tho life hath ups and downs, the weeping willow - Our ends shapes better than the downy pillow. - It takes stern measures to incline the bantling, - In right direction, without switch or scantling. - The optimist with farthings in his pouch, - Gets more enjoyment than the wealthy Grouch; - Thus cheerfulness, a product underrated, - In every household should be cultivated. - Give me the man who, tho in direst straits, - Will thumb his sharp proboscis at the Fates; - Who'll take the flimsy fire escape, or dive - Into the net, glad to get out alive; - Who, tho the skies be unpropitious, crowds - His way along, unmindful of the clouds; - Who never quits, in life's unequal bout, - But keeps on fighting till he's counted out. - - - - -THE SIXTH OF APRIL - - - Awake, Americans! Awake! Awake! - 'Tis April Sixth! A _year_ of War and yet - The Hun lines hold: Louvain is unavenged. - Be Thou our Guide, O God of Joshua! - Thru battles yet unstaged, and Comfort when, - From War's Inferno comes the phantom file, - The endless, ghastly file of martyred dead. - - Daughters of Belgium, thy vestal tears - Make _womanhood_ still more an honored name; - And Germany, when Reason reappears, - Must dearly pay for her revolting shame! - - Awake, Americans! Our task is grim; - For Hell and all the Imps of Sin deride - The Code of Morals, spit upon the Cross, - Drive torturing nails into the bleeding flesh - Of all Mankind who follow Him thru paths - Made plain and gladsome by the Golden Rule; - And foist vile _kultur_ as Refinement's height. - - And what of skulking Sharks, scum of the sea, - That prey on Innocents, while o'er them fly - Poised to inflict a further agony, - The Vampire Bats that violate the sky? - - Behold the ravaged homes of Serbia! - Where are her people? Ask the godless Goths - Whose Car of Kultur crushed beneath its wheels - This stalwart Race! Ask, too, the Bulgar hordes, - The mountain wolves, who pounce upon and rend, - In guise of Pacifiers of the Land, - Those who escaped the onslaughts of the Huns. - - Tho sapped by hunger and disease; tho crushed - By overwhelming numbers of the foe, - Thy Star, O, Serb, when battles' din be hushed, - Shall rise again, suffused with Freedom's glow! - - Now in the sacred name of God our guide, - Home, Country, Honor, Love and Motherhood, - Can we indifferent be to ravishment, - Wanton destruction, murder steeped in hate-- - This loathsome litter whelped by Junkerdom? - 'Tis _ours_ to dare and crush this monstrous THING: - Our Allies worn and bleeding, struggle on. - - Armenian tears, a flood of pent-up grief, - Flow on and on, a torrent of despair. - Rape! Murder! Pillage! Is there no relief - For Niobe, deserted, weeping there? - - Nation Invincible, unsheath thy blade! - God be thy leader: Justice be thy Sword! - Nor pause until the ruthless BEAST is flayed - With sated steel--and Liberty restored! - - - - -BENEATH A CLOUD - - - Under a passing cloud the moon was hid. - I really was delighted to be rid - Of _Super_ light, for I was with my Nell, - And I could see by her bright eyes as well. - We didn't need the aid of spheres above, - For that's _our_ proper sphere--a making love. - Midst whispering pines we pledged our love aloud, - And thus our plight began _beneath a cloud_. - - - - -THE COLUMBIAD - - - AMERICA! Our home, our native land! - The joy of it--the rapture! when we say-- - We who are freemen and can understand-- - This is our heritage--the U. S. A.! - Hewn from the virgin forests by our sires, - And launched by giants capable and true, - Our Ship of State was manned, when Freedom's fires - Were beacon lights, by sturdy, godly crew,-- - And so hath kept, steered by the Guiding Star - Of Faith, her steadfast course, thru shoal or blast, - Aloof from sirens luring from afar, - With Stars and Stripes still waving at the mast. - Here in our Land, where Plenty hath its store, - Where fertile fields teem with abundant grain, - Hunger ne'er casts its shadow on the door, - And Famine hath no lodge on hill or plain. - In truth doth Luxury with Plenty vie - To fill our laps with all the luscious things - That Nature doth provide--loath to deny - The satisfaction that such bounty brings. - To us was Freedom's heritage bequeathed - To have and hold while life and pride remain: - And so our sword must ever be unsheathed - To guard this priceless boon from hurt or stain-- - So that the war-worn hosts in Europe's maze, - Who fight against the Despot's ruthless spear, - May see the light of Liberty ablaze, - Diffusing matchless splendor over here; - And, friendly beacon, be to them a sign - And Bow of Promise, in their dismal sky, - The Light of Hope eternally to shine - In God's resplendent galaxy on High. - But grim starvation, at the board, presides - Across the seas, where once the farmsteads poured - Autumnal wealth--and Desolation rides - Rough shod along where tramped the Prussian horde. - No life remains: the fields are stark and sere; - The forests, leaf and branch and root, are fled; - The flowers lie trampled on the soldier's bier: - Destroyed are e'en the shelters of the dead. - The gardens that held plenty in their wombs - Are stripped and barren as the sands of Dearth, - And now, instead, keep vigil o'er the tombs - Of demigods, redeemers of the Earth. - The vineyards where the fragrant fruitage hung - To cheer the peaceful peasant in his toil - Are desolate where Death his shroud has flung - Upon the breadth of France's sacred soil. - Wrecked are the homesteads: buzzard broods abound - Where shell-holes gape, and heaps of carnage rise - Above the naked bosom of the ground, - Mutely denying guilt, in sacrifice. - Still with the jackal at her wounds doth France - Fight on unmindful of her pains, and lo! - We hear her call and, seizing shield and lance, - Crusader-like, to her assistance go. - Her cause is just: we make her Cause our own! - For Liberty doth in the balance swing, - And we must guard her, if we fight alone - To rid the world of this malignant _Thing_ - That, in the guise of Kultur, hides its hoofs - And horns, its tail and spear and hideous face, - And, as a pious priest, on Moslem roofs, - Extols itself, usurping Allah's place. - What blasphemy! Obsessed to germinate - Its propaganda, its infernal cult; - Condoning Cain's offense, instilling hate, - It strikes with poison, dirk and catapult - Against the precepts of the Prince of Peace; - Against the Conscience of the Universe. - But hatred, lust and war will never cease - Until God's Sword destroys this monstrous curse. - Audaciously the Priests of Kultur strive - To spread their doctrine, but the graven god - Against the Living Christ cannot survive, - And in His time will scourged be with His rod. - And so our Ship of State to battle hastes, - All sails a-drawing, sheets secure and taut, - Manned by a stalwart crew, stripped to the waists, - Inspired by battles that our fathers fought. - In port at last whence Lafayette once sailed - To aid our fight that made Britannia halt, - They take their stand where Frenchmen never failed - To hold the Verdun forts against assault. - A mighty effort this! To send our force - Three thousand miles, thru shark-infested sea, - Beneath dark skies where vultures lay their course, - To face the foe and ransom Liberty, - Thru sacrificial offering of our sons; - To arm and clothe five million men, and then - Build, to convey and feed them, countless tons - Of mighty vessels--transports, merchantmen; - To furnish, in addition, vast supplies - To allied Powers whose Cause we have embraced, - To hearten them--to strengthen friendly ties - And stay the hand that layeth Europe waste. - A task indeed! But let it not be thought - By foemen or by those whom we befriend - That Liberty our trust, so dearly bought, - Will not be guarded to the very end. - Tho Hercules the Strong should heave in sight - And challenge us to tests of thews and nerve, - We'd enter the arena in our might - And win new honors for the Land we serve; - For Antaeus and all the myths of old - 'Gainst whom the supermen of yore engaged, - Were never half so mighty, half so bold - As peaceful freemen, righteously enraged: - And all the modern Bullies who presume - To dominate the world against the Right, - Must see their day-dreams doomed to blackest gloom - When Truth prevails against the Imps of Night. - So let us fabricate in forge and mill; - So let us plant and nurture grain and seed; - So let us labor and conserve until - There be an end to Kultur's cruel creed. - Each one of us must fight or toil or save; - _Co-ordination_ be our battle song; - Hardships endure and gravest dangers brave - If we would victors be and right the wrong. - God's ways to mortal eyes are not revealed, - But Faith our guidance is thru War's grim task, - And with His help the _Hosts of Sin_ must yield - And Satan be denuded of his mask. - - - - -HE'S ALL RIGHT, BUT--!" - - - I like the good old-fashioned way-- - A handshake or a slap,-- - The boys who jab your ribs and say - "You're all right, Bill, Old Chap!" - - I like the lad who sees you first - And always shouts your name,-- - Who, tho your luck be at its worst, - Says--"Cheer up, Bill! Be game!" - - I like the chum who's always glad - To soothe you when you're ill,-- - Who, when he finds you broke and sad, - Says--"Here's a Dollar, Bill!" - - I'd like to grab him by the throat - And hold his mouth tight shut,-- - Who, questioned, makes you out the goat-- - "Who? Bill? He's all right, _but_--!" - - - - -NATURE'S STUDIO - - - Go where the winds keep vigil o'er the trees, - Rocking the tender saplings in the breeze; - Go where the sunbeams play on rill and stream, - Making the purling waters all agleam; - Go where the birds rehearse their songs and trills - In cool retreats, led by the Whippoorwills; - Go where the bees, midst clover blooms, indulge - Their honey habit till their bellies bulge; - Go where the trout, in alder-arbored brooks, - Abate their hunger but eschew the hooks; - Go where the flowers, by fairy weavers spun, - Pour out their grateful incense to the Sun; - Go where the deer in secret nooks disport - And Nature, clad in verdure, holds her Court; - Go where--nay, stay! Yonder the artist stands, - With brush and prismy palette in her hands, - Before her easel, where the canvas seems - A masterpiece in wondrous color schemes. - What artistry! What fascinating views - Dame Nature paints! Behold the rainbow hues - That tint the dainty flowers and make the rose - Blush to its sepals when it seeks repose; - That tinge the moors and fields and turquoise sky, - And stain the Autumn leaves with crimson dye! - So tarry here, where moss and bluebells grow - Upon the floor of Nature's Studio! - - - - -PICARDY - - - With heads uncovered and with cautious tread - Approach ye here! where lie our martyred dead - In graves unmarked, here, there and everywhere: - So lest, ashamed, ye trample them, beware! - - - - -AMERICA'S PRAYER - - - God bless our Allies! damn the Huns! - And consecrate our swords and guns! - - - - -EPILOGUE - - - They say that a stitch that is timely saves nine: - You haven't your needle? O, well then, take mine; - And all my Dream Outfit--my pipe and my dope! - I've smoked my last hemp _to the end of my rope_. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Bee's Bayonet, by Edwin Alfred Watrous - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEE'S BAYONET *** - -***** This file should be named 40560.txt or 40560.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/5/6/40560/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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