The Book of Humorous Verse Part 100

Of all the mismated pairs ever created The worst of the lot were the Spratts.

Their life was a series of quibbles and queries And quarrels and squabbles and spats.

They argued at breakfast, they argued at tea, And they argued from midnight to quarter past three.

The family Spratt-head was rather a fat-head, And a bellicose body to boot.

He was selfish and priggish and worse, he was piggish-- A regular beast of a brute.

At table his acts were incredibly mean; He gave his wife fat--and _he_ gobbled the lean!

What's more, she was censured whenever she ventured To dare to object to her fare; He said "It ain't tasteful, but we can't be wasteful; And _someone_ must eat what is there!"

But his coa.r.s.eness exceeded all bounds of control When he laughed at her Art and the State of her Soul.

So what with his jeering and fleering and sneering, He plagued her from dawn until dark.

He bellowed "I'll teach ye to read Shaw and Nietzsche"-- And he was as bad as his bark.

"The place for a woman----" he'd start, very glib....

And so on, for two or three hours _ad lib_.

So very malignant became his indignant Remarks about "Culture" and "Cranks,"

That at last she revolted. She up and she bolted And entered the militant ranks....

When she died, after breaking nine-tenths of the laws, She left all her money and jewels to the Cause!

And _THE MORAL_ is this (though a bit abstruse): What's sauce for a more or less proper goose, When it rouses the violent, feminine dander, Is apt to be sauce for the propaganda.

_Louis Untermeyer._

THE MODERN HIAWATHA

He killed the n.o.ble Mudjokivis.

Of the skin he made him mittens, Made them with the fur side inside Made them with the skin side outside.

He, to get the warm side inside, Put the inside skin side outside; He, to get the cold side outside, Put the warm side fur side inside.

That's why he put the fur side inside, Why he put the skin side outside.

Why he turned them inside outside.

_Unknown._

SOMEWHERE-IN-EUROPE-WOCKY

'Twas brussels, and the loos liege Did meuse and arras in latour; All vimy were the metz maubege, And the tsing-tau namur.

"Beware the petrograd, my son-- The jaws that bite, the claws that plough!

Beware the posen, and verdun The soldan mons glogau!"

He took his dixmude sword in hand; Long time his altkirch foe he sought; Then rested he 'neath the warsaw tree, And stood awhile in thought.

And as in danzig thought he stood The petrograd, with eyes of flame, Came ypring through the cracow wood, And longwied as it came.

One two! One two! and through and through The dixmude blade went snicker-snack; He left it dead, and with its head He gallipolied back.

"And hast thou slain the petrograd?

Come to my arms, my krithnia boy!

O chanak day! Artois! Grenay!"

He woevred in his joy.

'Twas brussels, and the loos liege Did meuse and arras in latour; All vimy were the metz maubege, And the tsing-tau namur.

_F. G. Hartswick._

RIGID BODY SINGS

Gin a body meet a body Flyin' through the air, Gin a body hit a body, Will it fly? and where?

Ilka impact has its measure, Ne'er a' ane hae I, Yet a' the lads they measure me, Or, at least, they try.

Gin a body meet a body Altogether free, How they travel afterwards We do not always see.

Ilka problem has its method By a.n.a.lytics high; For me, I ken na ane o' them, But what the waur am I?

_J. C. Maxwell._

A BALLAD OF HIGH ENDEAVOR

Ah Night! blind germ of days to be, Ah, me! ah me!

(Sweet Venus, mother!) What wail of smitten strings hear we?

(Ah me! ah me!

_Hey diddle dee!_)

Ravished by clouds our Lady Moon, Ah me! ah me!

(Sweet Venus, mother!) Sinks swooning in a lady-swoon (Ah me! ah me!

_Dum diddle dee!_)

What profits it to rise i' the dark?

Ah me! ah me!

(Sweet Venus, mother!) If love but over-soar its mark (Ah me! ah me!

_Hey diddle dee!_)