Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV
General
Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV
Parodies
I take my blushes from a box, complexion from a jar,
My dimples are to order made (a guinea each they are),
My curls were purchased through the Stores (a very cheap job lot),
The alabaster of my neck is four-and-six per pot.
And I line my eyes like this (_does so_).
I mark my veins like that (_does so_),
Fill up this wrinkle so, lay this excrescence flat (_does so_)
I fix and I cement (_does so_),
I powder, puff, and scent (_does so_),
Until, at last, my form is fit in public to present!
_Truth._ Christmas Number, 1884.
――――:o:――――
“THE ST. JAMES’S GAZETTE” ON MR. JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN IN 1885.
When first I went to Parliament I gazed with mock humility,
On Gladstone and on Hartington, on Derby and on Bright;
I followed their directions with unquestioning docility,
And said that what they bid me do must certainly be right.
I flattered all and each of them,
And daily did beseech of them
Some counsel or advice, which I accepted with civility.
I hastened to defer to them;
When talking, I said “Sir” to them;
And all my early conduct was remarkably polite,
I bowed to them,
Kowtowed to them,
Each day from morn till night:
I laughed with them,
And chaffed with them,
And played the parasite.
But as the proverb predicates, complete familiarity
Affects a mam’s ideals with a kind of moral blight:
And G. and H. and D. and B. (observe the singularity!)
Revealed defects of character that shocked their proselyte.
I could no longer follow them, or go to them as reference;
Their methods, I discovered, differed totally from mine:
And therefore I reluctantly, and quite against my preference,
Informed them, “Either you or I, good people must resign.”
They simply would not hear of it:
They had the greatest fear of it:
They treated what I said to them with unaccustomed deference:
They never would demur to me:
They even whispered “Sir” to me;
And one and all they flattered me, and asked me home to dine.
They bowed to me,
Kowtowed to me:
And how could I decline?
I sneered at them
And jeered at them,
But went, and drank their wine.
Don’t talk to me of impudence, deception, or audacity.
I worried them, I flurried them, I worked upon their fears:
And now they duly recognise my value and capacity,
And meekly let me lead them by their noses and their ears.
――――:o:――――
“WHO ARE THEY?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account