Grimm Tales Made Gay Part 3

This feeling insalubrious Soon made her most lugubrious, And bitterly she missed her Elder sister Marie Anne: She asked if she might write her to Come down and spend a night or two, Her husband answered rightly And politely: "Yes, you can!"

Blue-Beard, the Monday following, His jealous feeling swallowing, Packed all his clothes together In a leather- Bound valise, And, feigning reprehensibly, He started out, ostensibly By traveling to learn a Bit of Smyrna And of Greece.

His wife made but a cursory Inspection of the nursery; The kitchen and the airy Little dairy Were a bore, As well as big or scanty rooms, And billiard, bath, and ante-rooms, But not that interdicted And restricted Little door!

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For, all her curiosity Awakened by the closet he So carefully had hidden, And forbidden Her to see, This damsel disobedient Did something inexpedient, And in the keyhole tiny Turned the shiny Little key:

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Then started back impulsively, And shrieked aloud convulsively-- Three heads of girls he'd wedded And beheaded Met her eye!

And turning round, much terrified, Her darkest fears were verified, For Blue-Beard stood behind her, Come to find her On the sly!

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Perceiving she was fated to Be soon decapitated, too, She telegraphed her brothers And some others What she feared.

And Sister Anne looked out for them, In readiness to shout for them Whenever in the distance With a.s.sistance They appeared.

But only from her battlement She saw some dust that cattle meant.

The ordinary story Isn't gory, But a jest.

But here's the truth unqualified.

The husband _wasn't_ mollified Her head is in his b.l.o.o.d.y Little study With the rest!

_The Moral_: Wives, we must allow, Who to their husbands will not bow, A stern and dreadful lesson learn When, as you've read, they're cut in turn.

How Rumplestilz Held Out in Vain for a Bonus

In Germany there lived an earl Who had a charming niece: And never gave the timid girl A single moment's peace!

Whatever low and menial task His fancy flitted through, He did not hesitate to ask That shrinking child to do.

(I see with truly honest shame you Are blushing, and I do not blame you.

A tale like this the feelings softens, And brings the tears, as does "Two Orphans.")

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She had to wash the windows, and She had to scrub the floors, She had to lend a willing hand To fifty other ch.o.r.es: She gave the dog his exercise, She read the earl the news, She ironed all his evening ties, And polished all his shoes, She cleaned the tins that filled the dairy, She cut the claws of the canary, And then, at night, with manner winsome, When coal was wanted, carried in some!

But though these tasks were quite enough, He thought them all too few, And so her uncle, rude and rough, Invented something new.

He took her to a little room, Her willingness to tax, And pointed out a broken loom And half a ton of flax, Observing: "Spin six pairs of trousers!"

His haughty manner seemed to rouse hers.

She met his scornful glances proudly--

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But when the earl went down the stair She yielded to her fears.

Gave way at last to grim despair, And melted into tears: When suddenly, from out the wall, As if he felt at home, There pounced a singularly small And much distorted gnome.

He smiled a smile extremely vapid, And set to work in fashion rapid; No time for resting he deducted, And soon the trousers were constructed.

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The girl observed: "How very nice To help me out this way!"

The gnome replied: "A certain price Of course you'll have to pay.

I'll call to-morrow afternoon, My due reward to claim, And then you'll sing another tune Unless you guess my name!"

He indicated with a gesture The pile of newly fashioned vesture: His eyes on hers a moment centered, And then he went, as he had entered.

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As by this tale you have been grieved And heartily distressed, Kind sir, you will be much relieved To know his name she guessed:

But if I do not tell the same, Pray count it not a crime:-- I've tried my best, and for that name I can't find any rhyme!

Yet spare me from remarks injurious: I will not leave you foiled and furious.

If something must proclaim the answer, And I cannot, the t.i.tle can, sir!

_The Moral_ is: All said and done, There's nothing new beneath the sun, And many times before, a t.i.tle Was incapacity's requital!

How Jack Made the Giants Uncommonly Sore

Of all the ill-fated Boys ever created Young Jack was the wretchedest lad: An emphatic, erratic, Dogmatic fanatic Was foisted upon him as dad!

From the time he could walk, And before he could talk, His wearisome training began, On a highly barbarian, Disciplinarian, Nearly Tartarean Plan!

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He taught him some Raleigh, And some of Macaulay, Till all of "Horatius" he knew, And the drastic, sarcastic, Fantastic, scholastic Philippics of "Junius," too.

He made him learn lots Of the poems of Watts, And frequently said he ignored, On principle, any son's t.i.tle to benisons Till he'd learned Tennyson's "Maud."

"For these are the giants Of thought and of science,"

He said in his positive way: "So weigh them, obey them, Display them, and lay them To heart in your infancy's day!"

Jack made no reply, But he said on the sly An eloquent word, that had come From a quite indefensible, Most reprehensible, But indispensable Chum.

By the time he was twenty Jack had such a plenty Of books and paternal advice, Though seedy and needy, Indeed he was greedy For vengeance, whatever the price!

In the editor's seat Of a critical sheet He found the revenge that he sought; And, with sterling appliance of Mind, wrote defiance of All of the giants of Thought.

He'd thunder and grumble At high and at humble Until he became, in a while, Mordacious, pugnacious, Rapacious. Good gracious!

They called him the Yankee Carlyle!

But he never took rest On his quarrelsome quest Of the giants, both mighty and small.

He slated, distorted them, Hanged them and quartered them, Till he had slaughtered them All.

And this is _The Moral_ that lies in the verse: If you have a go farther, you're apt to fare worse.