Kitobni o'qish: «Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes»

Dedicated to P. P

("Qui connait son sourire a connu le parfait.")

 
I   NEED no Comments of the Press,
No critic's cursory caress,
No paragraphs my book to bless
With praise, or ban with curses,
So long as You, for whom I write,
Whose single notice I invite,
Are still sufficiently polite
To smile upon my verses.
 
 
If You should seek for Ruthless Rhymes
(In memory of Western climes),
And, for the sake of olden times,
Obtain this new edition,
You must not be surprised a bit,
Nor even deem the act unfit,
That I have dedicated it
To You, without permission.
 

P. T. O.¹

 
And if You chance to ask me why,
It is sufficient, I reply,
That You are You, and I am I, —
To put the matter briefly.
That I should dedicate to You
Can only interest us two;
The fact remains, then, that I do,
Because I want to – chiefly.
 
 
And if these verses can beguile
From those grey eyes of yours a smile,
You will have made it well worth while
To seek your approbation;
No further meed
Of praise they need,
But must succeed,
And do indeed,
If they but lead
You on to read
Beyond the Dedication.
 

1901.

H. G.

Author's Preface

 
WITH guilty, conscience-stricken tears
I offer up these rhymes of mine
To children of maturer years
(From Seventeen to Ninety-nine).
A special solace may they be
In days of second infancy.
 
 
The frenzied mother who observes
This volume in her offspring's hand,
And trembles for the darling's nerves,
Must please to clearly understand,
If baby suffers by-and-bye
The Artist is to blame, not I!
 
 
But should the little brat survive,
And fatten on the Ruthless Rhyme,
To raise a Heartless Home and thrive
Through a successful life of crime,
The Artist hopes that you will see
That I am to be thanked, not he!
 

P. T. O.²

 
Fond parent, you whose children are
Of tender age (from two to eight),
Pray keep this little volume far
From reach of such, and relegate
My verses to an upper shelf, —
Where you may study them yourself.
 

Uncle Joe

 
AN Angel bore dear Uncle Joe
To rest beyond the stars.
I miss him, oh! I miss him so, —
He had such good cigars.
 

Impetuous Samuel

 
SAM had spirits naught could check,
And to-day, at breakfast, he
Broke his baby sister's neck,
So he shan't have jam for tea!
 

Inconsiderate Hannah

 
NAUGHTY little Hannah said
She could make her grandma whistle,
So, that night, inside her bed
Placed some nettles and a thistle.
 
 
Though dear grandma quite infirm is,
Heartless Hannah watched her settle,
With her poor old epidermis
Resting up against a nettle.
 
 
Suddenly she reached the thistle!
My! you should have heard her whistle!
 

…

 
A successful plan was Hannah's,
But I cannot praise her manners.
 

Aunt Eliza

 
IN the drinking-well
(Which the plumber built her)
Aunt Eliza fell, —
We must buy a filter.
 

Self-Sacrifice

 
FATHER, chancing to chastise
His indignant daughter Sue,
Said, "I hope you realize
That this hurts me more than you."
 
 
Susan straightway ceased to roar.
"If that's really true," said she,
"I can stand a good deal more;
Pray go on, and don't mind me."
 

La Course Interrompue

I

 
JEAN qui allait a Dijon
(Il montait en bicyclette)
Rencontra un gros lion
Qui se faisait la toilette.
 

II

 
Voila Jean qui tombe a terre
Et le lion le digère!
 

…

 
Mon Dieu! Que c'est embêtant!
Il me devait quatre francs.
 

John

 
JOHN, across the broad Atlantic,
Tried to navigate a barque,
But he met an unromantic
And extremely hungry shark.
 
 
John (I blame his childhood's teachers)
Thought to treat this as a lark,
Ignorant of how these creatures
Do delight to bite a barque.
 
 
Said "This animal's a bore!" and,
With a scornful sort of grin,
Handled an adjacent oar and
Chucked it underneath the chin.
 
 
At this unexpected juncture
Which he had not reckoned on,
Mr. Shark he made a puncture
In the barque – and then in John.
 
 
Sad am I, and sore at thinking
John had on some clothes of mine;
I can almost see them shrinking,
Washed repeatedly in brine.
 
 
I shall never cease regretting
That I lent my hat to him,
For I fear a thorough wetting
Cannot well improve the brim.
 
 
Oh! to know a shark is browsing,
Boldly, blandly on my boots!
Coldly, cruelly carousing
On the choicest of my suits!
 
 
Creatures I regard with loathing
Who can calmly take their fill
Of one's Jæger underclothing: —
Down, my aching heart, be still!
 

The Fond Father

 
OF Baby I was very fond,
She'd won her father's heart;
So, when she fell into the pond,
It gave me quite a start.
 

Necessity

 
LATE last night I slew my wife,
Stretched her on the parquet flooring;
I was loath to take her life,
But I had to stop her snoring.
 

Unselfishness

 
ALL those who see my children say,
"What sweet, what kind, what charming elves!"
They are so thoughtful, too, for they
Are always thinking of themselves.
It must be ages since I ceased
To wonder which I liked the least.
 
 
Such is their generosity,
That, when the roof began to fall,
They would not share the risk with me,
But said, "No, father, take it all!"
Yet I should love them more, I know,
If I did not dislike them so.
 

Scorching John

 
JOHN, who rode his Dunlop tire
O'er the head of sweet Maria,
When she writhed in frightful pain,
Had to blow it out again.
 

Misfortunes Never Come Singly

 
MAKING toast at the fireside,
Nurse fell in the grate and died;
And, what makes it ten times worse,
All the toast was burned with nurse.
 

The Perils of Obesity

 
YESTERDAY my gun exploded
When I thought it wasn't loaded;
Near my wife I pressed the trigger,
Chipped a fragment off her figure;
'Course I'm sorry, and all that,
But she shouldn't be so fat.
 

Tender-Heartedness

 
BILLY, in one of his nice new sashes,
Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes;
Now, although the room grows chilly,
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.
 

Jim; or, the Deferred Luncheon Party

 
WHEN the line he tried to cross,
The express ran into Jim;
Bitterly I mourn his loss —
I was to have lunched with him.
 

Appreciation

 
AUNTIE, did you feel no pain
Falling from that apple tree?
Will you do it, please, again?
'Cos my friend here didn't see.
 

Baby

 
BABY in the caldron fell, —
See the grief on Mother's brow;
Mother loved her darling well, —
Darling's quite hard-boiled by now.
 

Nurse's Mistake

 
NURSE, who peppered baby's face
(She mistook it for a muffin),
Held her tongue and kept her place,
"Laying low and sayin' nuffin'";
Mother, seeing baby blinded,
Said, "Oh, nurse, how absent-minded!"
 

The Stern Parent

 
FATHER heard his Children scream,
So he threw them in the stream,
Saying, as he drowned the third,
"Children should be seen, not heard!"
 

"Bluebeard"

 
YES, I am Bluebeard, and my name
Is one that children cannot stand;
Yet once I used to be so tame
I'd eat out of a person's hand;
So gentle was I wont to be
A Curate might have played with me.
 
 
People accord me little praise,
Yet I am not the least alarming;
I can recall, in bygone days,
A maid once said she thought me charming.
She was my friend, – no more I vow, —
And – she's in an asylum now.
 
 
Girls used to clamour for my hand,
Girls I refused in simple dozens;
I said I'd be their brother, and
They promised they would be my cousins.
(One, I accepted, – more or less —
But I've forgotten her address.)
 
 
They worried me like anything
By their proposals ev'ry day,
Until at last I had to ring
The bell, and have them cleared away;
(I often pondered on the cost
Of getting them completely lost.)
 
 
To share my somewhat lofty rank
Was what they panted for, like mad;
You see my balance at the bank
Was not so small, and, I may add,
A Castle, Gothic and immense,
Is my Official Residence.
 
 
It overlooks a many a mile
Of park, of gardens and domains;
I'm staying now in lodgings, while
They're doing up the – well – the drains, —
For they began to give offence
At my Official Residence.
 
 
And, when I entertain at home,
I hardly ever fail to please,
The "upper tens" alone may come
To join in my "recherché" teas;
I am a King in ev'ry sense
At my Official Residence.
 
 
My dances, on a parquet floor,
My royal dinners, which consist
Of fifteen courses, sometimes more,
Are things that are not lightly missed;
In fact I do not spare expense
At my Official Residence.
 
 
My hospitality to those
Whom I invite to come and stay
Is famed; my wine like water flows,
Exactly like, some people say,
But this is mere impertinence
At my Official Residence.
 
 
When through the streets I walk about
My subjects stand and kiss their hands,
Raise a refined metallic shout,
Wave flags and warble tunes on bands,
While bunting hangs on ev'ry front, —
With my commands to let it bunt.
 
 
When I come home again, of course,
Retainers are employed to cheer,
My paid domestics get quite hoarse
Acclaiming me, and you can hear
The welkin ringing to the sky, —
Aye, aye, and let it welk, say I!
 
 
And yet, in spite of this, there are
Some persons who, at diff'rent times,