THAT INFIDEL EARL!
(Plain Language from Artless Ahmed, Istamboul.)
AIR—"That Heathen Chinee."
SULTAN sings—
I—aside—may remark,—
And I mean to speak plain,—
That for games that are dark,
Masked by manners urbane,
That Infidel Earl licks me hollow—
And I am no novice inane.
DUFFER-IN is his name,
But I'm bound to deny,
In regard to the same,
What that name might imply.
Though his smile is so pleasant and placid,
A Sheitan there lurks in each eye.
Istamboul was the spot
Where we played, and you'd guess
That the Giaour got it hot—
Found himself in a mess.
Yet he played it on me, did that Giaour,
In a way that was loathsome—no less.
We sat down to the game,
DUFFER-IN took a hand;
I felt sure that the same
He could not understand;
But he smiled as he sat at the table
With the smile that was placid and bland.
My cards were well stocked,—
As no doubt you'll believe,—
And I felt—don't be shocked!—
I'd "a bit up my sleeve."
For when playing with sons of burnt fathers
Our duty's to dupe and deceive.
But the hands which were played
By that dog DUFFER-IN,
And the tricks that he made,
Were a shame, and a sin,
Till at last I was "bested" completely,
And the Giaour scored a palpable win.
Then I felt that my guile
Was but simple and slight,
And he rose, with a smile,
And he said, "That's all right!
Think I'll take the next turn with dear TEWFIK!"
And he started for Cairo that night.
In the little game there
I may not take a hand;
But, my TEWFIK, beware!
He is gentle and bland,
Yet he'll probably give you a hiding,—
Few games that he'll not understand.
Be the game short or long,
He's ne'er flurried nor stuck.
His lead is so strong,
He has Sheitan's own luck;
And you'll find in this goose—as I thought him—
What occurs to geese—sometimes—that's "pluck."
Which is why I remark,
Though I own it with pain,
That for games that are dark,
Masked by manners urbane,
That Infidel Earl licks me hollow,
And I don't want to play him again!
Punch, November 11, 1882.