The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 49

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If of the Boa species, couldst thou clasp Within thy fold, and suffocate, a whale?

How long art thou?--Some sixty feet, they say, And more--but how much more they do not know: I fancy thou couldst reach across a bay From head to head, a dozen miles or so.

Scales hast thou got, of course--but what's thy weight?

On either side 'tis said thou hast a fin, A crest, too, on thy neck, deponents state, A saw-shaped ridge of flabby, dabby skin.

If I could clutch thee--in a giant's grip-- Could I retain thee in that grasp sublime?



Wouldst thou not quickly through my fingers slip, Being all over glazed with fishy slime?

Hast thou a forked tongue--and dost thou hiss If ever thou art bored with Ocean's play?

And is it the correct hypothesis That thou of gills or lungs dost breathe by way?

What spines, or spikes, or claws, or nails, or fin, Or paddle, Ocean-Serpent, dost thou bear?

What kind of teeth show'st thou when thou dost grin?-- A set that probably would make one stare.

What is thy diet? Canst thou gulp a shoal Of herrings? Or hast thou the gorge and room To bolt fat porpoises and dolphins, whole, By dozens, e'en as oysters we consume?

Art thou alone, thou serpent, on the brine, The sole surviving member of thy race?

Is there no brother, sister, wife, of thine, But thou alone, afloat on Ocean's face?

If such a calculation may be made, Thine age at what a figure may we take?

When first the granite mountain-stones were laid, Wast thou not present there and then, old Snake?

What fossil Saurians in thy time have been?

How many Mammoths crumbled into mold?

What geologic periods hast thou seen, Long as the tail thou doubtless canst unfold?

As a dead whale, but as a whale, though dead, Thy floating bulk a British crew did strike; And, so far, none will question what they said, That thou unto a whale wast very like.

A flock of birds a record, rather loose, Describes as hovering o'er thy lengthy hull; Among them, doubtless, there was many a Goose, And also several of the genus Gull.

THE FEAST OF VEGETABLES, AND THE FLOW OF WATER.

PUNCH.

New Year comes,--so let's be jolly; On the board the Turnip smokes, While we sit beneath, the holly, Eating Greens and pa.s.sing jokes

How the Cauliflower is steaming, Sweetest flower that ever blows.

See, good old Sir Kidney, beaming, Shows his jovial famed red nose.

Here behold the reign of Plenty,-- Help the Carrots, hand the Kail; Roots how nice, and herbs how dainty, Well washed down with ADAM'S Ale!

Feed your fill,--untasted only Let the fragrant onion go; Or, amid the revels lonely, Go not nigh the mistletoe!

KINDRED QUACKS.

PUNCH.

I overheard two matrons grave, allied by close affinity (The name of one was PHYSIC, and the other's was DIVINITY), As they put their groans together, both so doleful and lugubrious:

Says PHYSIC, "To unload the heart of grief, ma'am, is salubrious: Here am I, at my time of life, in this year of our deliverance; My age gives me a right to look for some esteem and reverence.

But, ma'am, I feel it is too true what every body says to me,-- Too many of my children are a shame and a disgrace to me."

"Ah!" says DIVINITY, "my heart can suffer with another, ma'am; I'm sure I can well understand your feelings as a mother, ma'am.

I've some, as well,--no doubt but what you're perfectly aware on't, ma'am, Whose doings bring derision and discredit on their parent, ma'am."

"There are boys of mine," says PHYSIC, "ma'am, such silly fancies nouris.h.i.+ng, As curing gout and stomach-ache by pawing and by flouris.h.i.+ng."

"Well," says DIVINITY, "I've those that teach that Heaven's beat.i.tudes Are to be earned by postures, genuflexions, bows, and att.i.tudes."

"My good-for-nothing sons," says PHYSIC, "some have turned hydropathists, Some taken up with mesmerism, or joined the h.o.m.oeopathists."

"Mine," says DIVINITY, "pursue a system of gimcrackery, Called Puseyism, a pack of stuff, and quite as arrant quackery."

Says PHYSIC, "Mine have sleep-walkers, pretending through the hide of you, To look, although their eyes are shut, and tell you what's inside of you."

"Ah!" says DIVINITY, "so mine, with quibbling and with caviling, Would have you, ma'am, to blind yourself, to see the road to travel in."

"Mine," PHYSIC says, "have quite renounced their good old pills and potions, ma'am, For doses of a billionth of a grain, and such wild notions, ma'am."

"So," says DIVINITY, "have mine left wholesome exhortation, ma'am, For credence-tables, reredoses, rood-lofts, and maceration, ma'am."

"But hospitals," says PHYSIC, "my misguided boys are founding, ma'am."

"Well," says DIVINITY, "of mine, the chapels are abounding, ma'am."

"Mine are trifling with diseases, ma'am," says PHYSIC, "not attacking them."

"Mine," says DIVINITY, "instead of curing souls, are quacking them."

"Ah, ma'am," says PHYSIC, "I'm to blame, I fear, for these absurdities."

"That's my fear too," DIVINITY says; "ma'am, upon my word it is."

Says PHYSIC, "Fees, not science, have been far too much my wishes, ma'am."

"Truth," says DIVINITY, "I've loved much less than loaves and fishes, ma'am."

Says each to each, "We're simpletons, or sad deceivers, some of us; And I am sure, ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us."

THE RAILWAY TRAVELER'S FAREWELL TO HIS FAMILY.

PUNCH.

The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 49

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