Verse Old and New

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLI, Issue 9, 26 August 1908, Page 49

Verse Old and New

Stock Lyric. (For Mooning Swains,) Fair ore your checks as roses rare; (Alt who write rhymes have said this.)' Your eyes are bright as atars at night. (A million girls have read this.) lAhr (Here insert her name.)' Your lips are life’s elixir! flOr say, “Love’s scintillating flame,”— ’Most either one will fix her.) Girl with the fascinating curl, (First lesson, THIS is simple!) My heart beats true to none but you. (NOW shy one at her dimple!) (Ab!— - (Here insert her name.) Your lips are like old wine, dear. ’(Or put—far more sedate and tame—“l would that you were mine!” here.) Love, by yon disc moon high above, (An oath’s the proper caper.) I swear you this—a true heart’s kiss! (Try THIS on scented paper.) Ah! (Here insert her name.) This passioned rhyme must woo you! '(Here make a bid for lasting fame,) Who hasn’t LOVED ne’er knew you! —STACY F. BAKER. ® ® ® The Courteous Cannibal King. On a sea-girt isle in the grandest style Lived a king whose name I forget; A cannibal gay, who Was strictly au fait In matters of etiquette. Said the monarch, “ To roast this ‘ inhospitable coast In geographies is a sin, For the big palace pot always holds something hot, And we’re glad to have strangers drop in.”

Oh, a courteous cannibal king— A king who had manner to spare; It filled him with ire When the cook left “ esquire • Off the names on his bill-of-fare. He would not put a Jew in an Irish stew, For he said it was not “just the thing.” Oh, he was the brightest, The quietest, politest, This courteous cannibal king. When a clergyman bland came to cannibal land, The king read a verse of liturgy; (Served with pepper and spice, and with condiments nice, He was wonderf’ly fond of the clergy. With a fine Grecian bend he would murmur “ My friend! We’re exceedingly glad your not thinner. Our joy none can tell at seeing you well, We’d be happy to have you at dinner.” Oh, a courteous cannibal king— A creature above common clay. “ Your clothes we would spoil If we boiled yon in oil, So we think we will have your souffle. We would highly approve if your cuffs yon’dl remove. For starch to the incisors clings; And we like clergy peeled,"— Said this black Chesterfield— Most kindly of cannibal kings. “If my life you will spare, we will both make a pair, Like Damon and Pythias of old; As friend or as menial you’ll find me congenial— My heart is the purest of gold'.” The dusk sov’reign sighed and with sadness replied, “ Your affections I gladly would share, But if at poker you toil yon will notice in Hoyle That a king full beats any old pair.”

Such a courteous cannibal king— A monarch devoted to " Don’t.” “ You’d be good fricasseed, But a scraping you’d need, And scrape an acquaintance I won’t. Though ’twouM help us, I’m sure, we decline the gold cure, So kindly give mother your ring.” To expect a harsh word Of faux pas were absurd From this courteous cannibal king. In two giant tureens, with a sprinkling of greens, The minister followed the fish. “ ’Tis polite,” the king said, “to speak well of the dead — A jucier bite we’d not wish. We would like to suggest, when we’ve eaten his chest, That we give the wish-bone to the cook; For that leathery taste is a fault o. our haste — We forgot to remove his hymn book.” Quite a courteous cannibal king—• A king who had no faults at all. By his royal command The best palace band Through the meal played the Dead March from “ Saul.” When his appetite went he repaired to his tent, A solemn requiem to sing; Then a crepe belt he placed Round his amply filled waist— Did this courteous cannibal king. CHANNING POLLOCK. ‘ © © © King Ad. The great king “Ad” is a cruel old cad, And a pitiless cad is he; But his smile is bright as his ways are bad, And big as his family. His babies grin through thick and tbin In the nebulous magazines, While his “pork-and” poets sing therein For the glory of Boston beans. His daughters beam over “Corn and Cream,” Or—(shame to his greedy guile!) —

They pose in a corset pantomime, Till you’re thankful they wore thu smile. His aunts behold! in a photo, beld, With a cackle for “Almost Tea.” (O Lord! but I’m sick of being told That coffee is crazing me!) While his chuckling wife, with a butche; knife, Cuts “Callahan’s Pi-, kled Veal,” His eousins giggle for very life In the joy of their "Malted Meal.” Whilo his sons in the sub-way pun and chaff, And promise: “We raise men’s pay,’’ The “Soul-twin” twists an electric laugh In the beer-lights of Broadway. Yea, the great king “Ad” is a mercitesu uad, And he gets faint praise from me, But I do not blame him for being sail, ’Neath his mantle of outward glee. Tray, what would you do, if, feeling blue O’er ths “Night Before’s” brown lees, Your family merrily sang to you: (Pie!” Pills!” Pickles!” Cheese! ” —Chester Firkins. © © © “Jennie Kissed Me,” Too. Sarah kissed me when we met, So did Kate and Bell and Dora, So did Jane and Violet, Dolly, Claribel and Flora. They all liked me pretty well, And—dear girls!—they never hid it! I don’t like to kiss and tell— Still, they did it. Later in the day I mot (And saluted) Maude and Daisy, And I also kissed Cozette, Clara, Julia, Ruth and Maisic— Oh, I’m sorry for Leigh Hunt, 1 who’ve had so many, many! — While poor Leigh’s one vaunted stunt Was with Jenny.

—Richmond “Times-Dispatoh.”