Shapes of Clay Part 37

1881.

DETECTED.

In Congress once great Mowther shone, Debating weighty matters; Now into an asylum thrown, He vacuously chatters.

If in that legislative hall His wisdom still he 'd vented, It never had been known at all That Mowther was demented.

BIMETALISM.

Ben Bulger was a silver man, Though not a mine had he: He thought it were a n.o.ble plan To make the coinage free.

"There hain't for years been sech a time,"

Said Ben to his bull pup, "For biz--the country's broke and I'm The hardest kind of up.

"The paper says that that's because The silver coins is sea'ce, And that the chaps which makes the laws Puts gold ones in their place.

"They says them nations always be Most prosperatin' where The wolume of the currency Ain't so disgustin' rare."

His dog, which hadn't breakfasted, Dissented from his view, And wished that he could swell, instead, The volume of cold stew.

"n.o.body'd put me up," said Ben, "With patriot galoots Which benefits their feller men By playin' warious roots;

"But havin' all the tools about, I'm goin' to commence A-turnin' silver dollars out Wuth eighty-seven cents.

"The feller takin' 'em can't whine: (No more, likewise, can I): They're better than the genooine, Which mostly satisfy.

"It's only makin' coinage free, And mebby might augment The wolume of the currency A noomerous per cent."

I don't quite see his error nor Malevolence prepense, But fifteen years they gave him for That technical offense.

THE RICH TESTATOR.

He lay on his bed and solemnly "signed,"

Gasping--perhaps 'twas a jest he meant: "This of a sound and disposing mind Is the last ill-will and contestament."

TWO METHODS.

To bucks and ewes by the Good Shepherd fed The Priest delivers ma.s.ses for the dead, And even from estrays outside the fold Death for the ma.s.ses he would not withhold.

The Parson, loth alike to free or kill, Forsakes the souls already on the grill, And, G.o.d's prerogative of mercy shamming, Spares living sinners for a harder d.a.m.ning.

FOUNDATIONS OF THE STATE

Observe, dear Lord, what lively pranks Are played by sentimental cranks!

First this one mounts his hinder hoofs And brays the chimneys off the roofs; Then that one, with exalted voice, Expounds the thesis of his choice, Our understandings to bombard, Till all the window panes are starred!

A third augments the vocal shock Till steeples to their bases rock, Confessing, as they humbly nod, They hear and mark the will of G.o.d.

A fourth in oral thunder vents His awful penury of sense Till dogs with sympathetic howls, And lowing cows, and cackling fowls, Hens, geese, and all domestic birds, Attest the wisdom of his words.

Cranks thus their intellects deflate Of theories about the State.

This one avers 'tis built on Truth, And that on Temperance. This youth Declares that Science bears the pile; That graybeard, with a holy smile, Says Faith is the supporting stone; While women swear that Love alone Could so unflinchingly endure The heavy load. And some are sure The solemn vow of Christian Wedlock Is the indubitable bedrock.

Physicians once about the bed Of one whose life was nearly sped Blew up a disputatious breeze About the cause of his disease: This, that and t' other thing they blamed.

"Tut, tut!" the dying man exclaimed, "What made me ill I do not care; You've not an ounce of it, I'll swear.

And if you had the skill to make it I'd see you hanged before I'd take it!"

AN IMPOSTER.

Must you, Carnegie, evermore explain Your worth, and all the reasons give again Why black and red are similarly white, And you and G.o.d identically right?

Still must our ears without redress submit To hear you play the solemn hypocrite Walking in spirit some high moral level, Raising at once his eye-b.a.l.l.s and the devil?

Great King of Cant! if Nature had but made Your mouth without a tongue I ne'er had prayed To have an earless head. Since she did not, Bear me, ye whirlwinds, to some favored spot-- Some mountain pinnacle that sleeps in air So delicately, mercifully rare That when the fellow climbs that giddy hill, As, for my sins, I know at last he will, To utter twaddle in that void inane His soundless organ he will play in vain.

UNEXPOUNDED.

On Evidence, on Deeds, on Bills, On Copyhold, on Loans, on Wills, Lawyers great books indite; The creaking of their busy quills I've never heard on Right.

FRANCE.

Unhappy State! with horrors still to strive: Thy Hugo dead, thy Boulanger alive; A Prince who'd govern where he dares not dwell, And who for power would his birthright sell-- Who, anxious o'er his enemies to reign, Grabs at the scepter and conceals the chain; While pugnant factions mutually strive By cutting throats to keep the land alive.

Perverse in pa.s.sion, as in pride perverse-- To all a mistress, to thyself a curse; Sweetheart of Europe! every sun's embrace Matures the charm and poison of thy grace.