The Book of Humorous Verse Part 130

But spite of all I said, her sobs grew more and more distressing, And she tore her pretty back hair, which had taken long in dressing.

Then she gazed upon the carpet, at the ceiling, then above me, And she whispered, "Ferdinando, do you really, _really_ love me?"

"Love you?" said I, then I sighed, and then I gazed upon her sweetly-- For I think I do this sort of thing particularly neatly.

"Send me to the Arctic regions, or illimitable azure, On a scientific goose-chase, with my c.o.xwell or my Glaisher!

"Tell me whither I may hie me--tell me, dear one, that I may know-- Is it up the highest Andes? down a horrible volcano?"

But she said, "It isn't polar bears, or hot volcanic grottoes; Only find out who it is that writes those lovely cracker mottoes!"

PART II

"Tell me, Henry Wadsworth, Alfred, Poet Close, or Mister Tupper, Do you write the bon-ton mottoes my Elvira pulls at supper?"

But Henry Wadsworth smiled, and said he had not had that honor; And Alfred, too, disclaimed the words that told so much upon her.

"Mister Martin Tupper, Poet Close, I beg of you inform us;"

But my question seemed to throw them both into a rage enormous.

Mister Close expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to me; And Mister Martin Tupper sent the following reply to me:

"A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,"-- Which I know was very clever; but I didn't understand it.

Seven weary years I wandered--Patagonia, China, Norway, Till at last I sank exhausted at a pastrycook his doorway.

There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle; So I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle.

He was plump and he was chubby, he was smooth and he was rosy, And his little wife was pretty and particularly cosy.

And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with laughter hearty-- He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party.

And I said, "O gentle pieman, why so very, very merry?

Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry?"

But he answered, "I'm so happy--no profession could be dearer-- If I am not humming 'Tra la la' I'm singing 'Tirer, lirer!'

"First I go and make the patties, and the puddings, and the jellies, Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a table swell is:

"Then I polish all the silver, which a supper-table lacquers: Then I write the pretty mottoes which you find inside the crackers--"

"Found at last!" I madly shouted. "Gentle pieman, you astound me!"

Then I waved the turtle soup enthusiastically round me.

And I shouted and I danced until he'd quite a crowd around him, And I rushed away, exclaiming, "I have found him! I have found him!"

And I heard the gentle pieman in the road behind me trilling, "'Tira! lira!' stop him, stop him! 'Tra! la! la!' the soup's a s.h.i.+lling!"

But until I reached Elvira's home, I never, never waited, And Elvira to her Ferdinand's irrevocably mated!

_W. S. Gilbert._

GENTLE ALICE BROWN

It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown.

Her father was the terror of a small Italian town; Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing; But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.

As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one day, A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pa.s.s that way; She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true, That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!"

And every morning pa.s.sed her house that cream of gentlemen, She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten, A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road (The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode.)

But Alice was a pious girl, who knew it wasn't wise To look at strange young sorters with expressive purpleeyes; So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed, The priest by whom their little sins were carefully a.s.sessed.

"Oh, holy father," Alice said, "'twould grieve you, would it not?

To discover that I was a most disreputable lot!

Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy one!"

The padre said, "Whatever have you been and gone and done?"

"I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad, I've a.s.sisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad.

I've planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque, And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!"

The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear-- And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear-- It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece; But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece.

"Girls will be girls--you're very young, and flighty in your mind; Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find: We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks-- Let's see--five crimes at half-a-crown--exactly twelve-and-six."

"Oh, father," little Alice cried, "your kindness makes me weep, You do these little things for me so singularly cheap-- Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget; But oh, there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet!

"A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes, I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a-catching flies; He pa.s.ses by it every day as certain as can be-- I blush to say I've winked at him and he has winked at me!"

"For shame," said Father Paul, "my erring daughter! On my word This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard.

Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!

"This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so!

They are the most remunerative customers I know; For many many years they've kept starvation from my doors, I never knew so criminal a family as yours!

"The common country folk in this insipid neighborhood Have nothing to confess, they're so ridiculously good; And if you marry any one respectable at all, Why, you'll reform, and what will then become of Father Paul?"

The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown, And started off in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown; To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit, Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it.

Good Robber Brown, he m.u.f.fled up his anger pretty well, He said, "I have a notion, and that notion I will tell; I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits, And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits.

"I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two, Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do-- A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small."

He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square; He watched his opportunity and seized him unaware; He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head, And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went to bed.