Читать книгу: «Absurd Ditties», страница 4

XVIII
THAT OF "8" AND "22."

 
'Twas on the "Royal Sovereign,"
Which sails from Old Swan Pier,
That Henry Phipps met Emily Green,
And —this is somewhat queer —
Aboard the ship was Obadiah,
Likewise a lady called Maria
 
 
The surnames of these people I
Cannot just now recall,
But 'tis quite immaterial,
It matters not at all.
The point is this– Phipps met Miss Green;
The sequel quickly will be seen.
 
 
He noticed her the first time when
To luncheon they went down
(The luncheon on the "Sovereign"
Is only half a-crown),
Where Obadiah gravely at
The table, with Maria, sat.
 
 
And Obadiah coughed because
Phipps looked at Emily – she at him.
Maria likewise noticed it,
And thereupon grew stern and grim,
Though neither one of all the four
Had met the other one before.
 
 
Now Emily Green was pretty, but
Maria – she was the reverse;
While Obadiah's looks were tra-
Gic – something like Macbeth's, but worse. —
And these two somehow seemed to be
Quite down on Phipps, and Miss E. G.
 
 
For when she smiled, and kindly passed
The salt – which Phipps had asked her for —
Maria tossed her head and sniffed,
And Obadiah muttered "Pshaw!"
While later on Miss E. G. thinks
She heard Maria call her "minx."
 
 
Twice on the upper deck when Phipps
Just ventured, in a casual way,
To pass appropriate remarks,
Or comment on the "perfect" day,
He caught Maria listening, and,
Close by, saw Obadiah stand.
 
 
At last, at Margate by the Sea,
The "Royal Sovereign" came to port.
Phipps hurried off and soon secured
A lodging very near The Fort
(He'd understood Miss Green to say
That she should lodge somewhere that way).
 
 
He really was annoyed to find
That Obadiah came there too,
While Miss Maria, opposite,
The parlour blinds was peering through.
Still he felt very happy, for
He saw Miss Green arrive next door.
 
 
That night he met her on the pier,
And Phipps, of course, he raised his hat.
Miss Emily Green blushed, smiled, and stopped —
It was not to be wondered at.
But Obadiah, passing by,
Transfixed them with his eagle eye.
 
 
And, later in the evening, when
The two were list'ning to the band,
Phipps – tho' perhaps he oughtn't to —
Was gently squeezing Emily's hand.
He dropped it suddenly, for there
Maria stood, with stony stare.
 
 
'Twas so on each succeeding day.
Whate'er they did, where'er they went,
There Obadiah followed them;
Maria, too. No accident
Could possibly account for this
Sad interference with their bliss.
 
 
At last Phipps, goaded to despair,
Cried: "Pray, sir —what, sir, do you wish?"
But Obadiah turned away,
Merely ejaculating "Pish!"
Then Phipps addressed Maria too,
And all he got from her was "Pooh!"
 
 
So Mr. Phipps and Emily Green
Determined something must be done.
And all one day they talked it o'er,
From early morn till setting sun.
Then, privately, the morrow fixed
For joining in the bathing, – mixed.
 
 
They knew that Obadiah would
Be present, and Maria too.
They were; and his machine was "8,"
Maria's Number "22."
They each stood glaring from their door,
Some little distance from the shore.
 
 
The tide came in, the bathers all —
Including Phipps and Emily Green —
Each sought his own – his very own —
Particular bathing-machine;
But Nos. "22" and "8"
Were left, unheeded, to their fate.
 
 
When, one by one, the horses drew
The other machines to the shore,
Phipps bribed the men to leave those two
Exactly where they were before.
(In "8," you know, was Obadiah,
And "22" contained Maria.)
 
 
The tide rose higher, carrying
The two machines quite out to sea.
The love affairs of Emily Green
And Phipps proceeded happily.
 

* * *

 
I'm not quite certain of the fate
Of either "22" or "8."
 

XIX
THAT OF THE HOOLIGAN AND THE PHILANTROPIST

 
Bill Basher was a Hooligan,
The terror of the town,
A reputation he possessed
For knocking people down;
On unprotected persons
Of a sudden he would spring,
And hit them with his buckle-belt,
Which hurt like anything.
 
 
One day ten stalwart constables
Bill Basher took in charge.
"We cannot such a man," said they,
"Permit to roam at large;
He causes all the populace
To go about in fear;
We'd better take him to the Court
Of Mr. Justice Dear."
 
 
To Mr. Justice Dear they went —
A tender Judge was he:
He was a great Philanthropist
(Spelt with a big, big "P").
His bump – phrenologists declared —
Of kindness was immense;
Altho' he somewhat lacked the bump
Of common, common sense.
 
 
"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the kindly Judge
A-looking very wise,
"Your conduct in arresting him
Quite fills me with surprise.
Poor fellow! Don't you see the lit-
Tle things which he has done
Were doubtless but dictated
By a sense of harmless fun?
 
 
"We really mustn't be too hard
Upon a man for that,
And I will not do more than just
Inflict a fine. That's flat!
See how he stands within the dock,
As mild as any lamb.
No! Sixpence fine. You are discharged.
Good morning, William."
 
 
Now strange to say, within a week,
Bill Basher had begun
To knock about a lot of other
People "just in fun."
He hit a young policeman
With a hammer on the head,
Until the poor young fellow
Was approximately dead.
 
 
"Good gracious!" murmured Justice Dear,
"This really is too bad,
To hit policemen on the head
Is not polite, my lad,
I must remand you for a week
To think what can be done,
And, in the meantime, please remain
In cell one twenty one."
 
 
Then, Justice Dear, he pondered thus:
"Bill Basher ought to wed
Some good and noble woman;
Then he'd very soon be led
To see the error of his ways,
And give those errors o'er."
This scheme he thought upon again,
And liked it more and more.
 
 
A daughter had good Justice Dear,
Whose name was Angeline
(The lady's name is not pronounced
To rhyme with "line," but "leen"),
Not beautiful, but dutiful
As ever she could be;
Whatever her papa desired
She did obediently.
 
 
With her he talked the matter o'er,
And told her that he thought,
In the interests of humanity,
To marry Bill she ought.
And, though she loved a barrister
Named Smith, her grief she hid
And, with a stifled sigh, prepared
To do as she was bid.
 
 
They got a special licence, and
Together quickly went
To visit Basher in his cell
And show their kind intent.
 

* * *

 
His answer it was to the point,
Though couched in language queer,
These were the very words he used:
"Wot? Marry 'er? No fear!"
 
 
Good Justice Dear was greatly shocked;
Indeed, it was a blow
To find that such ingratitude
The Hooligan should show.
So he gave to Smith, the barrister,
His daughter for a wife,
While on Bill he passed this sentence —
"Penal servitude for life."
 

XX
THAT OF THE SOCIALIST AND THE EARL

 
It was, I think, near Marble Arch,
Or somewhere in the Park,
A Socialist
Once shook his fist
And made this sage remark:
 
 
"It is a shime that working men,
The likes of you and me —
Poor, underfed,
Without a bed —
In such a state should be.
 
 
"When bloated aristocracy
Grows daily wuss an' wuss.
Why don't the rich
Behave as sich
An' give a bit to us?
 
 
"They've carriages and flunkeys,
Estates, an' lots of land.
Why this should be,
My friends," said he,
"I fail to understand.
 
 
"Why should they 'ave the bloomin' lot,
When, as I've said before,
It's understood
This man's as good
As that one is – or MORE?
 
 
"So what I sez, my friends, sez I,
Is: Down with all the lot,
Unless they share —
It's only fair —
With us what they have got!"
 

* * *

 
An Earl, who stood amongst the crowd,
Was very much impressed.
"Dear me," he said,
And smote his head,
"I really am distressed.
 
 
"To think that all these many years
I've lived so much at ease,
With leisure, rank,
Cash at the bank,
And luxuries like these,
 
 
"While, as this honest person says,
Our class is all to blame
That these have naught:
We really ought
To bow our heads in shame.
 
 
"My wealth unto this man I'll give,
My title I will drop,
And then I'll go
And live at Bow
And keep a chandler's shop."
 

* * *

 
The Socialist he took the wealth
The Earl put in his hands,
And bought erewhile
A house in style
And most extensive lands.
 
 
Was knighted (for some charity
Judiciously bestowed);
Within a year
Was made a Peer;
To fame was on the road.
 
 
But do not think that Fortune's smiles
From friends drew him apart,
Or hint that rude
Ingratitude
Could dwell within his heart.
 
 
You fear, perhaps, that he forgot
The worthy Earl. Ah, no!
Household supplies
He often buys
From his shop down at Bow.
 

XXI
THAT OF THE RETIRED PORK-BUTCHER AND THE SPOOK

 
I may as well
Proceed to tell
About a Mister Higgs,
Who grew quite rich
In trade – the which
Was selling pork and pigs.
 
 
From trade retired,
He much desired
To rank with gentlefolk,
So bought a place
He called "The Chase,"
And furnished it – old oak.
 
 
Ancestors got
(Twelve pounds the lot,
In Tottenham Court Road);
A pedigree —
For nine pounds three, —
The Heralds' Court bestowed.
 
 
Within the hall,
And on the wall,
Hung armour bright and strong.
"To Ethelbred" —
The label read —
De Higgs, this did belong."
 
 
'Twas quite complete,
This country seat,
Yet neighbours stayed away.
Nobody called, —
Higgs was blackballed, —
Which caused him great dismay.
 
 
"Why can it be?"
One night said he
When thinking of it o'er.
There came a knock
('Twas twelve o'clock)
Upon his chamber door.
 
 
Higgs cried, "Come in!"
A vapour thin
The keyhole wandered through.
Higgs rubbed his eyes
In mild surprise:
A ghost appeared in view.
 
 
"I beg," said he,
"You'll pardon me,
In calling rather late.
A family ghost,
I seek a post,
With wage commensurate.
 
 
"I'll serve you well;
My 'fiendish yell'
Is certain sure to please.
'Sepulchral tones,'
And 'rattling bones,'
I'm very good at these.
 
 
"Five bob I charge
To roam at large,
With 'clanking chains' ad lib.;
I do such things
As 'gibberings'
At one-and-three per gib.
 
 
"Or, by the week,
I merely seek
Two pounds – which is not dear;
Because I need,
Of course, no feed,
No washing, and no beer."
 
 
Higgs thought it o'er
A bit, before
He hired the family ghost,
But, finally,
He did agree
To give to him the post.
 
 
It got about —
You know, no doubt,
How quickly such news flies —
Throughout the place,
From "Higgses Chase"
Proceeded ghostly cries.
 
 
The rumour spread,
Folks shook their head,
But dropped in one by one.
A bishop came
(Forget his name),
And then the thing was done.
 
 
For afterwards
All left their cards,
"Because," said they, "you see,
One who can boast
A family ghost
Respectable must be."
 

* * *

 
When it was due,
The "ghostes's" screw
Higgs raised – as was but right —
They often play,
In friendly way,
A game of cards at night.
 

XXII
THAT OF THE POET AND THE BUCCANEERS

 
It does not fall to every man
To be a minor poet,
But Inksby-Slingem he was one,
And wished the world to know it.
In almost every magazine
His dainty verses might be seen.
 
 
He'd take a piece of paper – blank,
With nothing writ upon it —
And soon a triolet 'twould be
A ballade, or a sonnet.
Pantoums, – in fact, whate'er you please,
This poet wrote, with greatest ease.
 
 
By dozens he'd turn poems out,
To Editors he'd bring 'em,
Till, quite a household word became
The name of Inksby-Slingem.
A mild exterior had he,
With dove-like personality.
 
 
His hair was dark and lank and long,
His necktie large and floppy
(Vide his portrait in the sketch
"A-smelling of a Poppy"),
And unto this young man befell
The strange adventure I'll now tell.
 
 
He took a summer holiday
Aboard the good ship "Goschen,"
Which foundered, causing all but he
To perish, in the ocean,
And many days within a boat
Did Inksby-Slingem sadly float —
 
 
Yes, many days, until with joy
He saw a ship appearing;
A skull and crossbones flag it bore,
And towards him it was steering.
"This rakish-looking craft," thought he,
"I fear a pirate ship must be."
 
 
It was. Manned by a buccaneer.
And, from the very first, he
Could see the crew were wicked men,
All scowling and bloodthirsty;
Indeed, he trembled for his neck
When hoisted to their upper deck.
 
 
Indelicate the way, at least,
That he was treated – very.
They turned his pockets inside-out;
They stole his Waterbury;
His scarf-pin, and his golden rings,
His coat and – er – his other things.
 
 
Then, they ransacked his carpet-bag,
To add to his distresses,
And tumbled all his papers out,
His poems, and MSS.'s.
He threw himself upon his knees,
And cried: "I pray you, spare me these!"
 
 
"These? What are these?" the Pirate cried.
"I've not the slightest notion."
He read a verse or two – and then
Seemed filled with strange emotion.
He read some more; he heaved a sigh;
A briny tear fell from his eye.
 
 
"Dear, dear!" he sniffed, "how touching is
This poem 'To a Brother!'
It makes me think of childhood's days,
My old home, and my mother."
He read another poem through,
And passed it to his wondering crew.
 
 
They read it, and all – all but two —
Their eyes were soon a-piping;
It was a most affecting sight
To see those pirates wiping
Their eyes and noses in their griefs
On many-coloured handkerchiefs,
 

* * *

 
To make a lengthy story short,
The gentle poet's verses
Quite won those men from wicked ways,
From piratings, and curses;
And all of them, so I've heard tell,
Became quite, quite respectable.
 
 
All – all but two, and one of them
Than e'er before much worse is
For he is now a publisher,
And "pirates" Slingem's verses;
The other drives a "pirate" 'bus,
Continuing – alas! – to "cuss."
 

XXIII
THAT OF THE UNDERGROUND "SULPHUR CURE."

 
Sulphuric smoke doth nearly choke
That person – more's the pity —
Who does the round, by Underground,
On pleasure, or on business bound,
From West End to the City.
 
 
At Gower Street I chanced to meet,
One day, a strange old party,
Who tore his hair in wild despair,
Until I thought – "I would not swear,
That you're not mad, my hearty."
 
 
"Yes, mad, quite mad. Dear me! How sad!"
I cried; for, to the porter,
He did complain – "Look here! Again
No smoke from any single train
That's passed within the quarter.
 
 
"This air's too pure! I cannot cure
My patients, if you don't, sir,
Sulphuric gas allow to pass,
Until it thickly coats the glass.
Put up with this I won't, sir!"
 
 
I noticed then some gentlemen
And ladies join the chatter —
And dear, dear, dear, they did look queer!
Thought I – "They're very ill, I fear;
I wonder what's the matter."
 
 
Surmise was vain. In came my train.
I got in. "First" – a "Smoking."
That motley crew —they got in too.
I wondered what on earth to do,
For each began a-choking.
 
 
"Pray, won't you smoke?" the old man spoke.
Thought I – "He's growing madder."
"I wish you would. 'Twould do them good.
My card I'd hand you if I could,
But have none. My name's Chadder.
 
 
"My patients these. Now, if you please!"
He cried, in tones commanding,
And gave three raps, "I think, perhaps,
We'd best begin. Undo your wraps!"
This passed my understanding.
 
 
"Put out your tongues! Inflate your lungs!"
His patients all got ready;
Their wraps thrown off, they each did doff
Their respirator – spite their cough —
And took breaths long and steady.
 
 
"Inhale! Inhale! And do not fail
The air you take to swallow!"
They gasped, and wheezed, and coughed, and sneezed.
Their "doctor," he looked mighty pleased.
Expecting me to follow.
 
 
"Pray, tell me why, good sir!" gasped I,
"Before I lose my senses,
Why ever you such strange things do?
To know this, I confess my cu-
Riosity immense is."
 
 
In accents mild he spoke, and smiled.
"Delighted! I assure you.
We take the air– nay! do not stare;
Should aught your normal health impair,
This 'sulphur cure' will cure you.
 
 
"I undertake, quite well to make
Patients, —whate'er they're ailing.
Each day we meet, proceed en suite
From Edgware Road to Gower Street,
And back again —inhaling.
 
 
"That sulphur's good, 'tis understood,
But, I would briefly mention,
The simple way – as one may say, —
In which we take it, day by day,
Is quite my own invention.
 
 
"Profits? Ah, yes, I must confess
I make a tidy bit, sir?
Tho' Mr. Perkes', and Mr. Yerkes
'S system – if it only works —
Will put a stop to it, sir."
 
 
A stifled sigh, a tear-dimmed eye
Betrayed his agitation.
"Down here there'll be no smoke," said he,
"When run by electricity.
Excuse me! Here's our station!"
 
 
He fussed about, and got them out,
(Those invalids I mean, sir,)
Then raised his hat; I bowed at that,
And then, remaining where I sat,
Went on to Turnham Green, sir.