The Bee's Bayonet Part 11

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 pa.s.sion 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 h.e.l.lespont'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 unleas.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sembled was seven feet, while many were much taller. Additional evidence of their gigantic size is found in the ma.s.sive 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 h.e.l.l upon Earth?