"Oh, Billy, we're going to kill and eat you"

"When they are on the river's brink"

"At church, in suks and satins new, With hoop of monstrous size

PORTRAITS OF ENGLISH HUMORISTS

PAGE

236

259

291

326

"I wadna hae thought the lassie

Wad sae of a kiss complain"

376

A TREASURY OF HUMOROUS

POETRY

PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES

OR, THE HEATHEN CHINEE

Which I wish to remark —
And my language is plain —
That for ways that are dark,

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar,

Which the same I would rise to explain.

Ah Sin was his name,

And I shall not deny

In regard to the same

What that name might imply;

But his smile it was pensive and childlike,
As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.

It was August the third,

And quite soft was the skies;

Which it might be inferred

That Ah Sin was likewise;

Yet he played it that day upon William
And me in a way I despise.

He did not understand;

But he smiled as he sat by the table

With the smile that was childlike and bland.

I

Yet the cards they were stocked

In a way that I grieve,
And my feelings were shocked

At the state of Nye's sleeve,

Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers,

And the same with intent to deceive.

But the hands that were played

By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made

Were quite frightful to see,

Till at last he put down a right bower,
Which the same Nye had dealt unto me.

Then I looked up at Nye,

And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh,

And said, "Can this be?

We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor;
And he went for that heathen Chinee.

In the scene that ensued

I did not take a hand,

But the floor it was strewed

Like the leaves on the strand

With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding
In the game "he did not understand."

In his sleeves, which were long,

He had twenty-four packs, Which was coming it strong,

Yet I state but the facts;

And we found on his nails, which were taper,
What is frequent in tapers—that's wax.

Which is why I remark—

And my language is plain

That for ways that are dark,

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar,

Which the same I am free to maintain.

Bret Harte

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY

Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

Now, as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot!"

The army surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, "They're only pegs:
But there's as wooden members quite
As represent my legs!"

Now, Ben he loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay!

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

"O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave!

"Before you had those timber toes, Your love I did allow,

But then, you know, you stand upon Another footing now!"

"Why, then," said she, "you've lost the feet Of legs in war's alarms,

66

And now you can not wear your shoes

Upon your feats of arms!"

"O false and fickle Nelly Gray!

I know why you refuse:

Though I've no feet

some other man

Is standing in my shoes!

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But now, a long farewell!

For you will be my death; - alas,
You will not be my Nell!"

Now, when he went from Nelly Gray,

His heart so heavy got,

And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot!

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did entwine,

And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line!

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,

And, as his legs were off- of course,
He soon was off his legs!

And there he hung, till he was dead

As any nail in town,

For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down!

A dozen men sat on his corpse,

To find out why he died

And they buried Ben in four cross-roads,

With a stake in his inside!

Thomas Hood