The Jumble Book of Rhymes Part 7

She never frowned and said _non, non!_ But she would smile and say, "_Bon bon!_"

_Oui, oui_, I get you, Bo!

_Jolie_ Jeanne plays the Ma.r.s.eillaise!

I ball myself in many ways When this I try to say.

But _tres_, _merci_, _chere_, and _beaucoup_ I say just like the Frenchies do-- Admit it, _s'il vous plait_.

Yet if each time I _parlez vous_ These friends must throw a fit or two And shock their systems so, I think I'll stick to plain _Anglais_ And say _adieu_ to all _Francais_-- My Soldier-French won't go!

Spring Styles

"Well, you may talk Of woman's wiles Of all these lat- Est skinny styles; Rave over girls Built like a slat; But I must say I like 'em fat!"

A girl that's fat?

Oh, no, no, No!

No lap, no waist Nor high nor low; An oozing ma.s.s When weather's hot-- You like this type?

Well, I do not!

For me, a girl That's sylph-like made, Who's just the same In sun or shade; And as for me, And I'm no churl, Where there's no waist-- Then there's no girl!

No hefty bunch Of av'rdupois, No dray-horse girl Shall share my joys; But pocket-size, A featherweight, Will find me most Affectionate.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Strictly Proper

Ol' Miss Propri'ty up an' say: "Why will you chilluns ack this way?

Whenever I go out to walk I see you two--an' people talk!

"Miss Grundy says to me today: 'They go to ride, an' _stay_ an' _stay_.

How come her pa don't take a hand An' call 'em down to beat the band?'

"I've tol' you time an' time again A man should call but _now and then_, Unless the priest has called the banns An' date's been set for jinin' han's.

"'Tain't proper, no, an' it ain't right To call or ride mos' ev'ry night.

Hear now the last word that I'll say: _You break my rules--then you must pay!_"

Ol' Miss Propri'ty, who are you That you should tell us what to do?

Your mammy was a prissy scold, Yer dad a crabbed "sis," I'm told.

You stick to rules your grandma 'ranged, Despite the fac' that times have changed.

Propriety, Convention--these Are how determined, if you please?

Ol' Miss, if true I love this maid Should I go slow and be afraid Of what the neighbor-folk will say?

Nay, nay, a girl's not won that way!

There're nine and ninety swains, they say, Who'd steal this maid. If I make hay I needs must work despite the fogs, And though it's raining cats and dogs.

Ol' Miss, if you could see her eyes With laughter lit, or in surprise, Or questioning, or looking grave, Or beckoning--just hear me rave--

Could see the beauty of her face, Her winsome ways, her lissom grace-- Ah, Miss, your rules you'd cast aside And daily beg, "Dear, please come ride."

Then why not I? I'm human, too.

It's right for me if right for you.

You see I've got so much to say I've _gotta_ see her ev'ry day.

Ol' Miss she say, "My boy, you're right; I now see things in diff'rent light.

My laws still rule the other guy, But to your case they don't apply.

So tell her _my_ permission's got To call on her a nawful lot.

You've found me easy, have you lad?

All right, then try convincing DAD."

_In a versatile manner the Jumbler approaches sundry themes, wherein is revealed his love for Home, Country and Eats._

18 TO 45.

YOU NEVER CAN TELL.

AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION.

FEAR NOT.

EAT WHAT'S SET BEFORE YOU.

SHOW ME.

DAMFINO JONES.

SILENT BILL.

BUSTER BOY.

NOT FORGETTING DAD.

18 to 45

_The Jumbler found the niche in which he fit--for just one day._

I'm something over eighteen, yet I'm under forty-five!

I've no flat feet, no leaky valves, No wife and babes alive.

So-- With no dependent, no defect, Not e'en a near-sight eye, Methinks quite soon I'll hear you say: "So long! Good luck! Good-bye!"