A Parody Anthology. Wells Carolyn. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Wells Carolyn
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soda, welcome when the morn is bright;

      To make the third, combine the other two,

      The force of nature can no further go.

Anonymous.

      OYSTER-CRABS

      THREE viands in three different courses served,

      Received the commendation they deserved.

      The first in succulence all else surpassed;

      The next in flavor; and in both, the last.

      For Nature's forces could no further go;

      To make the third, she joined the other two.

Carolyn Wells.

      AFTER DR. WATTS

      THE VOICE OF THE LOBSTER

      “'TIS the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare

      'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.'

      As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose

      Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

      When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,

      And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark:

      But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,

      His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.

      “I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,

      How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie;

      The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,

      While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.

      When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,

      Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon;

      While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,

      And concluded the banquet by – "

Lewis Carroll.

      THE CROCODILE

      HOW doth the little crocodile

      Improve his shining tail,

      And pour the waters of the Nile

      On every golden scale!

      How cheerfully he seems to grin,

      How neatly spreads his claws,

      And welcomes little fishes in,

      With gently smiling jaws!

Lewis Carroll.

      AFTER GOLDSMITH

      WHEN LOVELY WOMAN

      WHEN lovely woman wants a favor,

      And finds, too late, that man won't bend,

      What earthly circumstance can save her

      From disappointment in the end?

      The only way to bring him over,

      The last experiment to try,

      Whether a husband or a lover,

      If he have feeling is – to cry.

Phœbe Cary.

      AFTER BURNS

      GAELIC SPEECH; OR, “AULD LANG SYNE" DONE UP IN TARTAN

      SHOULD Gaelic speech be e'er forgot,

      And never brocht to min',

      For she'll be spoke in Paradise

      In the days of auld lang syne.

      When Eve, all fresh in beauty's charms,

      First met fond Adam's view,

      The first word that he'll spoke till her

      Was, “cumar achum dhu."

      And Adam in his garden fair,

      Whene'er the day did close,

      The dish that he'll to supper teuk

      Was always Athole brose.

      When Adam from his leafy bower

      Cam oot at broke o' day,

      He'll always for his morning teuk

      A quaich o' usquebae.

      An' when wi' Eve he'll had a crack,

      He'll teuk his sneeshin' horn,

      An' on the tap ye'll well mitch mark

      A pony praw Cairngorm.

      The sneeshin' mull is fine, my friens —

      The sneeshin' mull is gran';

      We'll teukta hearty sneesh, my friens,

      And pass frae han' to han'.

      When man first fan the want o' claes,

      The wind an' cauld to fleg.

      He twisted roon' about his waist

      The tartan philabeg.

      An' music first on earth was heard

      In Gaelic accents deep,

      When Jubal in his oxter squeezed

      The blether o' a sheep.

      The praw bagpipes is gran', my friens,

      The praw bagpipes is fine;

      We'll teukta nother pibroch yet,

      For the days o' auld lang syne!

Anonymous.

      MY FOE

      JOHN ALCOHOL, my foe, John,

      When we were first acquaint,

      I'd siller in my pockets, John,

      Which noo, ye ken, I want;

      I spent it all in treating, John,

      Because I loved you so;

      But mark ye, how you've treated me,

      John Alcohol, my foe.

      John Alcohol, my foe, John,

      We've been ower lang together,

      Sae ye maun tak' ae road, John,

      And I will take anither;

      Foe we maun tumble down, John,

      If hand in hand we go;

      And I shall hae the bill to pay,

      John Alcohol, my foe.

      John Alcohol, my foe, John,

      Ye've blear'd out a' my een,

      And lighted up my nose, John,

      A fiery sign atween!

      My hands wi' palsy shake, John,

      My locks are like the snow;

      Ye'll surely be the death of me,

      John Alcohol, my foe.

      John Alcohol, my foe, John,

      'Twas love to you, I ween,

      That gart me rise sae ear', John,

      And sit sae late at e'en;

      The best o' friens maun part, John,

      It grieves me sair, ye know;

      But “we'll nae mair to yon town,"

      John Alcohol, my foe.

      John Alcohol, my foe, John,

      Ye've wrought me muckle skaith,

      And yet to part wi' you, John,

      I