"Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu oses-- Je me vengerai ainsi, ma chere, Je lui dirai de quoi l"on compose Vol au vent a la Financiere!"
LORD LARDY knew nothing of this-- The waiter"s devotion ignored, But he gazed on the beautiful miss, And never seemed weary or bored.
The waiter would screw up his nerve, His fingers he"d snap and he"d dance-- And LORD LARDY would smile and observe, "How strange are the customs of France!"
Well, after delaying a s.p.a.ce, His tradesmen no longer would wait: Returning to England apace, He yielded himself to his fate.
LORD LARDY espoused, with a groan, MISS DARDY"S developing charms, And agreed to tag on to his own, Her name and her newly-found arms.
The waiter he knelt at the toes Of an ugly and thin coryphee, Who danced in the hindermost rows At the Theatre des Varietes.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE Didn"t yield to a gnawing despair But married a soldier, and plays As a pretty and pert Vivandiere.
Disillusioned--By An Ex-Enthusiast
Oh, that my soul its G.o.ds could see As years ago they seemed to me When first I painted them; Invested with the circ.u.mstance Of old conventional romance: Exploded theorem!
The bard who could, all men above, Inflame my soul with songs of love, And, with his verse, inspire The craven soul who feared to die With all the glow of chivalry And old heroic fire;
I found him in a beerhouse tap Awaking from a gin-born nap, With pipe and sloven dress; Amusing chums, who fooled his bent, With muddy, maudlin sentiment, And tipsy foolishness!
The novelist, whose painting pen To legions of fict.i.tious men A real existence lends, Brain-people whom we rarely fail, Whene"er we hear their names, to hail As old and welcome friends;
I found in clumsy snuffy suit, In seedy glove, and blucher boot, Uncomfortably big.
Particularly commonplace, With vulgar, coa.r.s.e, stockbroking face, And spectacles and wig.
My favourite actor who, at will, With mimic woe my eyes could fill With unaccustomed brine: A being who appeared to me (Before I knew him well) to be A song incarnadine;
I found a coa.r.s.e unpleasant man With speckled chin--unhealthy, wan-- Of self-importance full: Existing in an atmosphere That reeked of gin and pipes and beer-- Conceited, fractious, dull.
The warrior whose enn.o.bled name Is woven with his country"s fame, Triumphant over all, I found weak, palsied, bloated, blear; His province seemed to be, to leer At bonnets in Pall Mall.
Would that ye always shone, who write, Bathed in your own innate limelight, And ye who battles wage, Or that in darkness I had died Before my soul had ever sighed To see you off the stage!
Babette"s Love
BABETTE she was a fisher gal, With jupon striped and cap in crimps.
She pa.s.sed her days inside the Halle, Or catching little nimble shrimps.
Yet she was sweet as flowers in May, With no professional bouquet.
JACOT was, of the Customs bold, An officer, at gay Boulogne, He loved BABETTE--his love he told, And sighed, "Oh, soyez vous my own!"
But "Non!" said she, "JACOT, my pet, Vous etes trop scraggy pour BABETTE.
"Of one alone I nightly dream, An able mariner is he, And gaily serves the Gen"ral Steam- Boat Navigation Companee.
I"ll marry him, if he but will-- His name, I rather think, is BILL.
"I see him when he"s not aware, Upon our hospitable coast, Reclining with an easy air Upon the Port against a post, A-thinking of, I"ll dare to say, His native Chelsea far away!"
"Oh, mon!" exclaimed the Customs bold, "Mes yeux!" he said (which means "my eye") "Oh, chere!" he also cried, I"m told, "Par Jove," he added, with a sigh.
"Oh, mon! oh, chere! mes yeux! par Jove!
Je n"aime pas cet enticing cove!"
The Panther"s captain stood hard by, He was a man of morals strict If e"er a sailor winked his eye, Straightway he had that sailor licked, Mast-headed all (such was his code) Who dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed.
He wept to think a tar of his Should lean so gracefully on posts, He sighed and sobbed to think of this, On foreign, French, and friendly coasts.
"It"s human natur", p"raps--if so, Oh, isn"t human natur" low!"
He called his BILL, who pulled his curl, He said, "My BILL, I understand You"ve captivated some young gurl On this here French and foreign land.
Her tender heart your beauties jog-- They do, you know they do, you dog.
"You have a graceful way, I learn, Of leaning airily on posts, By which you"ve been and caused to burn A tender flame on these here coasts.
A fisher gurl, I much regret,-- Her age, sixteen--her name, BABETTE.
"You"ll marry her, you gentle tar-- Your union I myself will bless, And when you matrimonied are, I will appoint her stewardess."
But WILLIAM hitched himself and sighed, And cleared his throat, and thus replied:
"Not so: unless you"re fond of strife, You"d better mind your own affairs, I have an able-bodied wife Awaiting me at Wapping Stairs; If all this here to her I tell, She"ll larrup you and me as well.
"Skin-deep, and valued at a pin, Is beauty such as VENUS owns-- HER beauty is beneath her skin, And lies in layers on her bones.
The other sailors of the crew They always calls her "Whopping Sue!""
"Oho!" the Captain said, "I see!
And is she then so very strong?"
"She"d take your honour"s scruff," said he "And pitch you over to Bolong!"
"I pardon you," the Captain said, "The fair BABETTE you needn"t wed."
Perhaps the Customs had his will, And coaxed the scornful girl to wed, Perhaps the Captain and his BILL, And WILLIAM"S little wife are dead; Or p"raps they"re all alive and well: I cannot, cannot, cannot tell.
To My Bride--(Whoever She May Be)
Oh! little maid!--(I do not know your name Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution I"ll add)--Oh, buxom widow! married dame!
(As one of these must be your present portion) Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you, And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for you.
You"ll marry soon--within a year or twain-- A bachelor of circa two and thirty: Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain, And when you"re intimate, you"ll call him "BERTIE."
Neat--dresses well; his temper has been cla.s.sified As hasty; but he"s very quickly pacified.