A Nonsense Anthology Part 20

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 purple eyes; 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 check, 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 O 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 now was 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.

And pretty little Alice grew more settled in her mind, She nevermore was guilty of a weakness of the kind, Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her pretty hand On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band.

_W.S. Gilbert_.

THE STORY OF PRINCE AGIB

Strike the concertina's melancholy string!

Blow the spirit-stirring harp like any thing!

Let the piano's martial blast Rouse the Echoes of the Past, For of Agib, Prince of Tartary, I sing!

Of Agib, who amid Tartaric scenes, Wrote a lot of ballet-music in his teens: His gentle spirit rolls In the melody of souls-- Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means

Of Agib, who could readily, at sight, Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite: He would diligently play On the Zoetrope all day, And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night.

One winter--I am shaky in my dates-- Came two starving minstrels to his gates, Oh, Allah be obeyed, How infernally they played!

I remember that they called themselves the "Oiiaits."

Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, Photographically lined On the tablet of my mind, When a yesterday has faded from its page!

Alas! Prince Agib went and asked them in!

Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scents, and tin.

And when (as sn.o.bs would say) They "put it all away,"

He requested them to tune up and begin.

Though its icy horror chill you to the core, I will tell you what I never told before, The consequences true Of that awful interview, _For I listened at the key-hole in the door_!

They played him a sonata--let me see!

"_Medulla oblongata_"--key of G.

Then they began to sing That extremely lovely thing, "Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp."

He gave them money, more than they could count, Scent, from a most ingenious little fount, More beer, in little kegs, Many dozen hard-boiled eggs, And goodies to a fabulous amount.

Now follows the dim horror of my tale, And I feel I'm growing gradually pale, For, even at this day, Though its sting has pa.s.sed away, When I venture to remember it, I quail!

The elder of the brothers gave a squeal, All-overish it made me for to feel!

"Oh Prince," he says, says he, "_If a Prince indeed you be_, I've a mystery I'm going to reveal!"

"Oh, listen, if you'd shun a horrid death, To what the gent who's speaking to you, saith: No 'Oiiaits' in truth are we, As you fancy that we be, For (ter-remble) I am Aleck--this is Beth!"

Said Agib, "Oh! accursed of your kind, I have heard that you are men of evil mind!"

Beth gave a dreadful shriek-- But before he'd time to speak I was mercilessly collared from behind.

In number ten or twelve or even more, They fastened me, full length upon the floor.

On my face extended flat I was walloped with a cat For listening at the key-hole of the door.

Oh! the horror of that agonizing thrill!

(I can feel the place in frosty weather still).

For a week from ten to four I was fastened to the floor, While a mercenary wopped me with a will!

They branded me, and broke me on a wheel, And they left me in an hospital to heal; And, upon my solemn word, I have never never heard What those Tartars had determined to reveal.

But that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, Photographically lined On the tablet of my mind, When a yesterday has faded from its page!

_W.S. Gilbert_.