Grimm Tales Made Gay Part 4

(When you turn it around it is different rather:-- You're not apt to go worse if you have a fair father!)

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How Rudeness and Kindness Were Justly Rewarded

Once on a time, long years ago (Just when I quite forget), Two maidens lived beside the Po, One blonde and one brunette.

The blonde one's character was mild, From morning until night she smiled, Whereas the one whose hair was brown Did little else than pine and frown.

(_I_ think one ought to draw the line At girls who always frown and pine!)

The blonde one learned to play the harp, Like all accomplished dames, And trained her voice to take _C_ sharp As well as Emma Eames; Made baskets out of scented gra.s.s, And paper-weights of hammered bra.s.s, And lots of other odds and ends For gentleman and lady friends.

(_I_ think it takes a deal of sense To manufacture gifts for gents!)

The dark one wore an air of gloom, Proclaimed the world a bore, And took her breakfast in her room Three mornings out of four.

With crankiness she seemed imbued, And everything she said was rude: She sniffed, and sneered, and, what is more, When very much provoked, she swore!

(_I_ think that I could never care For any girl who'd learned to swear!)

One day the blonde was striding past A forest, all alone, When all at once her eyes she cast Upon a wrinkled crone, Who tottered near with shaking knees, And said: "A penny, if you please!"

And you will learn with some surprise This was a fairy in disguise!

(_I_ think it must be hard to know A fairy who's incognito!)

The maiden filled her trembling palms With coinage of the realm.

The fairy said: "Take back your alms!

My heart they overwhelm.

Henceforth at every word shall slip A pearl or ruby from your lip!"

And, when the girl got home that night,-- She found the fairy's words were right!

(_I_ think there are not many girls Whose words are worth their weight in pearls!)

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It happened that the cross brunette, Ten minutes later, came Along the self-same road, and met That bent and wrinkled dame, Who asked her humbly for a sou.

The girl replied: "Get out with you!"

The fairy cried: "Each word you drop, A toad from out your mouth shall hop!"

(_I_ think that nothing incommodes One's speech like uninvited toads!)

And so it was, the cheerful blonde Lived on in joy and bliss, And grew pecunious, beyond The dreams of avarice!

And to a nice young man was wed, And I have often heard it said No other man who ever walked Most loved his wife when most she talked!

(_I_ think this very fact, forsooth, Goes far to prove I tell the truth!)

The cross brunette the fairy's joke By hook or crook survived, But still at every word she spoke An ugly toad arrived, Until at last she had to come To feigning she was wholly dumb, Whereat the suitors swarmed around, And soon a wealthy mate she found.

(_I_ think n.o.body ever knew The happier husband of the two!)

_The Moral_ of the tale is: Bah!

_Nous avons change tout cela._ No clear idea I hope to strike Of what _your_ nicest girl is like, But she whose best young man _I_ am Is not an oyster, nor a clam!

[Ill.u.s.tration: _This shows why each suitor, who rode up to spark, Would mark the toad maybe, but ne'er toed the mark._]

How Beauty Contrived to Get Square with the Beast

Miss Guinevere Platt Was so beautiful that She couldn't remember the day When one of her swains Hadn't taken the pains To send her a mammoth bouquet.

And the postman had found, On the whole of his round, That no one received such a lot Of bulky epistles As, waiting his whistles, The beautiful Guinevere got!

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A significant sign That her charm was divine Was seen in society, when The chaperons sniffed With their eyebrows alift: "Whatever's got into the men?"

There was always a man Who was holding her fan, And twenty that danced in details, And a couple of mourners, Who brooded in corners, And gnawed their mustaches and nails.

John Jeremy Platt Wouldn't stay in the flat, For his beautiful daughter he missed: When he'd taken his tub, He would hie to his club, And dally with poker or whist.

At the end of a year It was perfectly clear That he'd never computed the cost, For he hadn't a penny To settle the many Ten thousands of dollars he'd lost!

F. Ferdinand Fife Was a student of life: He was coa.r.s.e, and excessively fat, With a beard like a goat's, But he held all the notes Of ruined John Jeremy Platt!

With an adamant smile That was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with guile, He said: "I am took with the face Of your beautiful daughter, And wed me she ought ter, To save you from utter disgrace!"

Miss Guinevere Platt Didn't hesitate at Her duty's imperative call.

When they looked at the bride All the chaperons cried: "She isn't so bad, after all!"

Of the desolate men There were something like ten Who took up political lives, And the flower of the flock Went and fell off a dock, And the rest married hideous wives!

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But the beautiful wife Of F. Ferdinand Fife Was the wildest that ever was known: She'd grumble and glare, Till the man didn't dare To say that his soul was his own.

She sneered at his ills, And quadrupled his bills, And spent nearly twice what he earned; Her husband deserted, And frivoled, and flirted, Till Ferdinand's reason was turned.

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He repented too late, And his terrible fate Upon him so heavily sat, That he swore at the day When he sat down to play At cards with John Jeremy Platt.

He was dead in a year, And the fair Guinevere In society sparkled again, While the chaperons fluttered Their fans, as they muttered: "She's getting exceedingly plain!"

_The Moral_: Predicaments often are found That beautiful duty is apt to get round: But greedy extortioners better beware For dutiful beauty is apt to get square!

[Ill.u.s.tration: _This shows how at poker one loses his pelf When the other's a joker and knave in himself._]

How a Fair One no Hope to His Highness Accorded

She has slid down the channels Of history's annals Disguised as the child of a king, But that is a glib And iniquitous fib, For she never was any such thing: They called her the Fair One with Golden Locks, And it's true she had lovers who swarmed in flocks, But the rest is ironic; Her business chronic Was selling hair-tonic By bottle and box!

From the dawn till the gloaming She used to sit combing Her hair in a languorous way.