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The Book of Humorous Verse Part 70

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The bargain lookit fair eneugh-- She just was turned o' saxty-three-- I couldna guessed she'd prove sae teugh, By human ingenuity.

But years have come, and years have gane, And there she's yet as stieve as stane-- The limmer's growin' young again, Since she got her annuity.

She's crined' awa' to bane and skin, But that, it seems, is nought to me; She's like to live--although she's in The last stage o' tenuity.

She munches wi' her wizen'd gums, An' stumps about on legs o' thrums; But comes, as sure as Christmas comes, To ca' for her annuity.

I read the tables drawn wi' care For an insurance company; Her chance o' life was stated there, Wi' perfect perspicuity.

But tables here or tables there, She's lived ten years beyond her share, An' 's like to live a dozen mair, To ca' for her annuity.

Last Yule she had a fearfu' host, I thought a kink might set me free-- I led her out, 'mang snaw and frost, Wi' constant a.s.siduity.

But deil ma' care--the blast gaed by, And miss'd the auld anatomy-- It just cost me a tooth, for bye Discharging her annuity.

If there's a' sough o' cholera, Or typhus,--wha sae gleg as she?

She buys up baths, an' drugs, an' a', In siccan superfluity!

She doesna need--she's fever proof-- The pest walked o'er her very roof-- She tauld me sae--an' then her loof Held out for her annuity.

Ae day she fell, her arm she brak-- A compound fracture as could be-- Nae leech the cure wad undertake, Whate'er was the gratuity.

It's cured! She handles 't like a flail-- It does as weel in bits as hale-- But I'm a broken man mysel'

Wi' her and her annuity.

Her broozled flesh and broken banes Are weel as flesh and banes can be.

She beats the taeds that live in stanes, An' fatten in vacuity!

They die when they're exposed to air-- They canna thole the atmosphere; But her!--expose her onywhere-- She lives for her annuity.

If mortal means could nick her thread, Sma' crime it wad appear to me; Ca't murder, or ca't homicide, I'd justify 't--an' do it tae.

But how to fell a withered wife That's carved out o' the tree o' life-- The timmer limmer daurs the knife To settle her annuity.

I'd try a shot: but whar's the mark?-- Her vital parts are hid frae me; Her backbane wanders through her sark In an unkenn'd corkscrewity.

She's palsified--an shakes her head Sae fast about, ye scarce can see; It's past the power o' steel or lead To settle her annuity.

She might be drowned--but go she'll not Within a mile o' loch or sea; Or hanged--if cord could grip a throat O' siccan exiguity.

It's fitter far to hang the rope-- It draws out like a telescope; 'Twad tak a dreadfu' length o' drop To settle her annuity.

Will puzion do't?--It has been tried; But, be't in hash or frica.s.see, That's just the dish she can't abide, Whatever kind o' gout it hae.

It's needless to a.s.sail her doubts, She gangs by instinct, like the brutes, An' only eats an' drinks what suits Hersel' and her annuity.

The Bible says the age o' man Threescore and ten, perchance, may be; She's ninety-four. Let them who can, Explain the incongruity.

She should hae lived afore the flood-- She's come o' patriarchal blood, She's some auld Pagan mummified Alive for her annuity.

She's been embalmed inside and oot-- She's sauted to the last degree-- There's pickle in her very snoot Sae caper-like an' cruety.

Lot's wife was fresh compared to her-- They've kyanized the useless knir, She canna decompose--nae mair Than her accursed annuity.

The water-drop wears out the rock, As this eternal jaud wears me; I could withstand the single shock, But not the continuity.

It's pay me here, an' pay me there, An' pay me, pay me, evermair-- I'll gang demented wi' despair-- I'm charged for her annuity.

_George Outram._

K. K.--CAN'T CALCULATE

What poor short-sighted worms we be; For we can't calculate, With any sort of sartintee, What is to be our fate.

These words Prissilla's heart did reach, And caused her tears to flow, When first she heard the Elder preach, About six months ago.

How true it is what he did state, And thus affected her, That n.o.body can't calculate What is a-gwine to occur.

When we retire, can't calculate But what afore the morn Our housen will conflaggerate, And we be left forlorn.

Can't calculate when we come in From any neighborin' place, Whether we'll ever go out agin To look on natur's face.

Can't calculate upon the weather, It always changes so; Hain't got no means of telling whether It's gwine to rain or snow.

Can't calculate with no precision On naught beneath the sky; And so I've come to the decision That't ain't worth while to try.

_Frances M. Whitcher._

NORTHERN FARMER

NEW STYLE

Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?

Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saay.

Proputty, proputty, proputty--Sam, thou's an a.s.s for thy paans: Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor in all thy braans.

Woa--theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam: yon's parson's 'ouse-- Dosn't thou knaw that a man mun be eather a man or a mouse?

Time to think on it, then; for thou'll be twenty to weeak.

Proputty, proputty--woa then, woa--let ma 'ear mysen speak.

Me an' thy m.u.t.h.e.r, Sammy, 'as bean a-talkin' o' thee; Thou's been talkin' to m.u.t.h.e.r, an' she bean a-tellin' it me.

Thou'll not marry for munny--thou's sweet upo' parson's la.s.s-- Noa--thou'll marry for luvv--an' we boath of us thinks tha an a.s.s.

Seea'd her to-daay goa by--Saaint's-daay--they was ringing the bells.

She's a beauty, thou thinks--an' soa is scoors o' gells.

Them as 'as munny an' all--wot's a beauty?--the flower as blaws.

But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty graws.

Do'ant be stunt: taake time: I knaws what maakes tha sa mad.

Warn't I craazed fur the la.s.ses mysen when I wur a lad?

But I knaw'd a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this: "Do'ant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!"

An' I went wheer munny war: an' thy mother coom to 'and, Wi' lots o' munny laad by, an' a nicetish hit o' land.

Maaybe she warn't a beauty: I niver giv it a thowt-- But warn't she as good to cuddle an' kiss as a la.s.s as 'ant nowt?

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The Book of Humorous Verse Part 70 summary

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