A MAN I HATE
Of all the bores that, now and then,
Society permits
To talk to literary men,
Or mix among the wits,
The worst are those that will devote
Their little minds to anecdote.
I’ve sat and listened, I confess,
To fools of many kinds,
Including people who possess
Encyclopædic minds.
But oh! the very worst afloat
Is he who takes to anecdote.
I like a man who makes a pun
Or else a deep remark;
I like philosophy or fun—
If only just a spark.
But how I hate the muffs who gloat
Inanely over anecdote.
I loathe a man who recollects
A little thing he heard;
Then tells a story and expects
A grin at ev’ry word.
For how can any one promote
Your liveliness by anecdote?
Oh, no! I’d rather live alone
Upon a desert isle,
With not a voice, except my own,
To cheer me all the while,
Than talk to men who learn by rote
Their paltry funds of anecdote!
Fun, 1866.