A Nonsense Anthology Part 41

Wherein did the deceased Akhoond of Swat Kotal's lamented Moolla late, As it were, emulate?

Was it in the tented field With crash of sword on s.h.i.+eld, While backward meaner champions reeled And loud the tom-tom pealed?

Did they barter gash for scar With the Persian scimetar Or the Afghanistee tulwar, While loud the tom-tom pealed-- While loud the tom-tom pealed, And the jim-jam squealed, And champions less well heeled Their war-horses wheeled And fled the presence of these mortal big bugs o'

the field?

Was Kotal's proud citadel-- Bastioned, and demi-luned, Beaten down with shot and sh.e.l.l By the guns of the Akhoond?

Or were wails despairing caught, as The burghers pale of Swat Cried in panic, "Moolla ad Portas"?

--Or what?

Or made each in the cabinet his mark Kotalese Gortschakoff, Swattish Bismarck?

Did they explain and render hazier The policies of Central Asia?

Did they with speeches from the throne, Wars dynastic, Ententes cordiales, Between Swat and Kotal; Holy alliances, And other appliances Of statesmen with morals and consciences plastic Come by much more than their own?

Made they mots, as "There to-day are No more Himalayehs,"

Or, if you prefer it, "There to-day are No more Himalaya"?

Oi, said the Akhoond, "Sah, L'etat de Swat c'est moi"?

Khabu, did there come great fear On thy Khabuldozed Ameer Ali Shere?

Or did the Khan of far Kashgar Tremble at the menace hot Of the Moolla of Kotal, "I will extirpate thee, pal Of my foe the Akhoond of Swat"?

Who knows Of Moolla and Akhoond aught more than I did?

Namely, in life they rivals were, or foes, And in their deaths not very much divided?

If any one knows it, Let him disclose it!

_George Thomas Lanigan_.

RUSSIAN AND TURK

There was a Russian came over the sea, Just when the war was growing hot; And his name it was Tjalikavakaree- Karindobrolikanahudarot- s.h.i.+bkadirova- Ivarditztova Sanilik Danerik Varagobhot.

A Turk was standing upon the sh.o.r.e-- Right where the terrible Russian crossed, And he cried: "Bismillah! I'm Ab-El Kor- Bazarou-Kilgonautosgobross- Getfinpravadi- Kligekoladji Grivino Blivido- Jenikodosk!"

So they stood like brave men long and well; And they called each other their proper names, Till the lockjaw seized them, and where they fell They buried them both by the Irdesholmmes Kalatal.u.s.tchuk Mischtaribusiclup- Bulgari- Dulbary- Sagharimsing.

_Anonymous_.

LINES TO MISS FLORENCE HUNTINGDON

Sweet maiden of Pa.s.samaquoddy, Shall we seek for communion of souls Where the deep Mississippi meanders, Or the distant Saskatchewan rolls?

Ah no,--for in Maine I will find thee A sweetly sequestrated nook, Where the far-winding Skoodoowabskooksis Conjoins with the Skoodoowabskook.

There wander two beautiful rivers, With many a winding and crook; The one is the Skoodoowabskooksis, The other--the Skoodoowabskook.

Ah, sweetest of haunts! though unmentioned In geography, atlas, or book, How fair is the Skoodoowabskooksis, When joining the Skoodoowabskook!

Our cot shall be close by the waters Within that sequestrated nook-- Reflected in Skoodoowabskooksis And mirrored in Skoodoowabskook.

You shall sleep to the music of leaflets, By zephyrs in wantonness shook, And dream of the Skoodoowabskooksis, And, perhaps, of the Skoodoowabskook.

When awaked by the hens and the roosters, Each morn, you shall joyously look On the junction of Skoodoowabskooksis With the soft gliding Skoodoowabskook.

Your food shall be fish from the waters, Drawn forth on the point of a hook, From murmuring Skoodoowabskooksis, Or wandering Skoodoowabskook!

You shall quaff the most sparkling of water, Drawn forth from a silvery brook Which flows to the Skoodoowabskooksis, And then to the Skoodoowabskook!

And you shall preside at the banquet, And I will wait on thee as cook; And we'll talk of the Skoodoowabskooksis, And sing of the Skoodoowabskook!

Let others sing loudly of Saco, Of Quoddy, and Tattamagouche, Of Kennebeccasis, and Quaco, Of Merigonishe, and Buctouche,

Of Nashwaak, and Magaguadavique, Or Memmerimammericook,-- There's none like the Skoodoowabskooksis, Excepting the Skoodoowabskook!

_Anonymous_.

COBBE'S PROPHECIES

When the day and the night do meete And the houses are even with the streete: And the fire and the water agree, And blinde men have power to see: When the Wolf and the Lambe lie down togither, And the blasted trees will not wither: When the flood and the ebbe run one way, And the Sunne and the Moone are at a stay; When Age and Youth are all one, And the Miller creepes through the Mill-stone: When the Ram b.u.t.ts the Butcher on the head, And the living are buried with the dead.

When the Cobler doth worke without his ends, And the Cutpurse and the Hangman are friends: Strange things will then be to see, But I think it will never be!

--_1614_.

AN UNSUSPECTED FACT

If down his throat a man should choose In fun, to jump or slide, He'd sc.r.a.pe his shoes against his teeth, Nor dirt his own inside.

But if his teeth were lost and gone, And not a stump to sc.r.a.pe upon, He'd see at once how very pat His tongue lay there by way of mat, And he would wipe his feet on _that_!

_Edward Cannon_.

THE SORROWS OF WERTHER

Werther had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter; Would you know how first he met her?

She was cutting bread and b.u.t.ter.

Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sigh'd and pined and ogled, And his pa.s.sion boil'd and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person, Went on cutting bread and b.u.t.ter.