THE SONG OF THE BEETLE.
[The following graceful effusion, by a well-known Longfellow-countryman of the Colorado insect, should be hailed with delight by the British public. As it contains an accurate description of the Beetle, we would suggest that it should be learned by heart by the Rector of Hitcham's school-children, with a view to preventing entomological mistakes.]
Should you ask me of the Beetle,
Of the Colorado Beetle!—
Properly the Doryphora
Decemlineata christen'd—
I should answer, I should tell you,
"He's a beggar for potatoes,
Quite a glutton at potatoes—
For he 'wolfs' the common 'murphy.'
The Solanum tuberosum.
(Thus the savans named the tater!")
Should you ask me if the Beetle
Were at all like other beetles—
Like the 'chafer, for example,
Him whom boys impale on pin-point—
I should straight reply in this wise:
"He, when young, is like the insect
Whose abode is always burning,
She whose children are departed.[4]
But when fourteen days have glided,
Then the Beetle is much longer;
Very much more pointed-taily,
Sharp as to his latter ending,
Red thus far has been his colour,
Red, the hue of guardsman's tunic,
Red, the tint of postal pillars.
But, as time and trouble try him,
This our insect grows much paler,
Fades and fades till he is yellow—
Yellow e'en as one dyspeptic,
Yellow with black stripes upon him."
Should you further ask the poet,
How to treat the little stranger?
I should answer, I should bid you,
"Stamp on him, where'er you find him!
In the garden—in the pig-sty—
In the parlour or the bed-room—
In the roadway or the meadow—
Squash the little wretch, confound him!
That's the way that I should answer,—
That's the sort of man that I am."
From Funny Folks.
In 1879 the editor of The World offered two prizes for the best parodies on Longfellow's Hiawatha, the subject selected being The Hunting of Cetewayo. There were 135 competitors, the first prize was awarded to Floreant-Lauri, whose poem will be found, with the three next best, in The World for October 8, 1879.
The prize poem commenced as follows:—
VERY wrath was Wolsey-Pullsey
When he landed at Fort Durban,
Hearing all the depredations
Of the cunning Cetewayo;
Called his captain Giffey-Wiffey,
Saying, "Catch this Cetewayo,
Muzzle thou this mischief-maker;
Not so tangled is the jungle,
Not so dark the deepest donga,
But that thou canst track and find him."
Then in hot pursuit departed
Giffey-Wiffey and his soldiers,
Through the jungle, through the forest;
But they found not Cetewayo—
Only found his bed and blanket.
From the farthest dingey-donga
Cetewayo looking backward,
Placed his thumb upon his nostril,
Made the sign, the Snookey-Wookey,
Made the gesture of derision,
Pulling bacon, piggey-whiggey,
Hurling at them his defiance.
Then cried Giffey-Wiffey loudly,
"When I catch you, you black rascal,
Cat-o'-nine tails, pussey-wussey,
You and she shall be acquainted,"
Mockingly came back the answer:
"When you catchee, when you catchee!"
* * * *