The Book of Humorous Verse Part 49

My typist weeps for hours and hours: I took her for her weeping powers-- They so delight my business hours.

A woman lives by intuition.

Though my accountant shuns addition She has the rarest intuition.

(And I myself can do addition.)

Timidity in girls is nice.

My cook is so afraid of mice.

Now you'll admit it's very nice To feel your cook's afraid of mice.

_Alice Duer Miller._

THE MAN

A man said to the universe, "Sir, I exist!"

"However," replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation."

_Stephen Crane._

A THOUGHT

If all the harm that women have done Were put in a bundle and rolled into one, Earth would not hold it, The sky could not enfold it, It could not be lighted nor warmed by the sun; Such ma.s.ses of evil Would puzzle the devil, And keep him in fuel while Time's wheels run.

But if all the harm that's been done by men Were doubled, and doubled, and doubled again, And melted and fused into vapour, and then Were squared and raised to the power of ten, There wouldn't be nearly enough, not near, To keep a small girl for the tenth of a year.

_James Kenneth Stephen._

THE MUSICAL a.s.s

The fable which I now present, Occurred to me by accident: And whether bad or excellent, Is merely so by accident.

A stupid a.s.s this morning went Into a field by accident: And cropped his food, and was content, Until he spied by accident A flute, which some oblivious gent Had left behind by accident; When, sniffling it with eager scent, He breathed on it by accident, And made the hollow instrument Emit a sound by accident.

"Hurrah, hurrah!" exclaimed the brute, "How cleverly I play the flute!"

A fool, in spite of nature's bent, May shine for once,--by accident.

_Tomaso de Yriarte._

THE KNIFE-GRINDER

_Friend of Humanity_

"Needy Knife-grinder! whither are you going?

Rough is the road--your wheel is out of order-- Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't, So have your breeches!

"Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day' Knives and Scissors to grind O!'

"Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?

Did some rich man tyrannically use you?

Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?

Or the attorney?

"Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or Covetous parson, for his t.i.thes distraining?

Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a law-suit?

"(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?) Drops of compa.s.sion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story."

_Knife-grinder_

"Story! G.o.d bless you! I have none to tell, sir, Only last night, a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Tom in a scuffle.

"Constables came up for to take me into Custody; they took me before the justice; Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish- Stocks for a vagrant.

"I should be glad to drink your Honour's health in A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence; But for my part, I never love to meddle With politics, sir."

_Friend of Humanity_

"_I_ give thee sixpence! I will see thee d.a.m.n'd first-- Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance-- Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast!"

[_Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of Republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy._]

_George Canning._

ST. ANTHONY'S SERMON TO THE FISHES

Saint Anthony at church Was left in the lurch, So he went to the ditches And preached to the fishes.

They wriggled their tails, In the sun glanced their scales.

The carps, with their sp.a.w.n, Are all thither drawn; Have opened their jaws, Eager for each clause.

No sermon beside Had the carps so edified.