The Book of Humorous Verse Part 64

While plutocrats their millions new Expend upon each costly whim, A great deal less than theirs will do For him:

The simple incomes of the poor His meek poetic soul content: Say, 30,000 at four Per cent.!

His taste in residence is plain: No palaces his heart rejoice: A cottage in a lane (Park Lane For choice)

Here be his days in quiet spent: Here let him meditate the Muse: Baronial Halls were only meant For Jews,

And lands that stretch with endless span From east to west, from south to north, Are often much more trouble than They're worth!

Let epicures who eat too much Become uncomfortably stout: Let gourmets feel th' approaching touch Of gout,--

The Bard subsists on simpler food: A dinner, not severely plain, A pint or so of really good Champagne--

Grant him but these, no care he'll take Though Laureates bask in Fortune's smile, Though Kiplings and Corellis make Their pile:

Contented with a scantier dole His humble Muse serenely jogs, Remote from scenes where authors roll Their logs:

Far from the madding crowd she lurks, And really cares no single jot Whether the public read her works Or not!

_A. D. G.o.dley._

OF A PRECISE TAILOR

A tailor, a man of an upright dealing, True but for lying, honest but for stealing, Did fall one day extremely sick by chance, And on the sudden was in wondrous trance.

The Fiends of h.e.l.l, mustering in fearful manner, Of sundry-coloured silks displayed a banner, Which he had stol'n; and wished, as they did tell, That one day he might find it all in h.e.l.l.

The man, affrighted at this apparition, Upon recovery grew a great precisian.

He bought a Bible of the new translation, And in his life he showed great reformation.

He walked mannerly and talked meekly; He heard three lectures and two sermons weekly; He vowed to shun all companies unruly, And in his speech he used no oath but "truly": And, zealously to keep the Sabbath's rest, His meat for that day on the even was dressed.

And, lest the custom that he had to steal Might cause him sometime to forget his zeal, He gives his journeyman a special charge That, if the stuff allowed fell out too large, And that to filch his fingers were inclined, He then should put the Banner in his mind.

This done, I scant the rest can tell for laughter.

A Captain of a s.h.i.+p came three days after, And bought three yards of velvet and three quarters, To make Venetians down below the garters.

He, that precisely knew what was enough, Soon slipped away three quarters of the stuff.

His man, espying it, said in derision, "Remember, Master, how you saw the vision!"

"Peace, knave," quoth he; "I did not see one rag Of such-a-coloured silk in all the flag."

_Sir John Harrington._

MONEY

Who money has, well wages the campaign; Who money has, becomes of gentle strain; Who money has, to honor all accord: He is my lord.

Who money has, the ladies ne'er disdain; Who money has, loud praises will attain; Who money has, in the world's heart is stored, The flower adored.

O'er all mankind he holds his conquering track-- They only are condemned who money lack.

Who money has, will wisdom's credit gain; Who money has, all earth is his domain; Who money has, praise is his sure reward, Which all afford.

Who money has, from nothing need refrain;.

Who money has, on him is favor poured; And, in a word, Who money has, need never fear attack-- They only are condemned who money lack.

Who money has, in every heart does reign; Who money has, all to approach are fain; Who money has, of him no fault is told, Nor harm can hold.

Who money has, none does his right restrain; Who money has, can whom he will maintain; Who money has, clerk, prior, by his gold, Is straight enrolled.

Who money has, all raise, none hold him back-- They only are condemned who money lack.

_Jehan du Pontalais._

BOSTON NURSERY RHYMES

RHYME FOR A GEOLOGICAL BABY

Trilobite, Grapholite, Nautilus pie; Seas were calcareous, oceans were dry.

Eocene, miocene, pliocene Tuff, Lias and Trias and that is enough.

RHYME FOR ASTRONOMICAL BABY

Bye Baby Bunting, Father's gone star-hunting; Mother's at the telescope Casting baby's horoscope.

Bye Baby Buntoid, Father's found an asteroid; Mother takes by calculation The angle of its inclination.

RHYME FOR BOTANICAL BABY

Little bo-peepals Has lost her sepals, And can't tell-where to find them; In the involucre By hook or by crook or She'll make up her mind not to mind them.

RHYME FOR A CHEMICAL BABY

Oh, sing a song of phosphates, Fibrine in a line, Four-and-twenty follicles In the van of time.

When the phosph.o.r.escence Evoluted brain, Superst.i.tion ended, Men began to reign.

_Rev. Joseph Cook._

KENTUCKY PHILOSOPHY