FEARFUL ODDS.
There's no fear that strikes so dumb,
None so hard to overcome,
As the thought that there are two
Eyes that may be watching you.
Here's a perfect illustration
Of that sickening sensation.
Young Lieutenant Jimmy Spry's
Power resided in his eyes;
He'd been able all his days
To revolve them different ways.
For example, let's suppose
That the right one watched his nose,
Then the left—you'll think it queer—
Turned towards his dexter ear.
But what really made him great
Was—he always saw things straight.
Out in France, a year ago,
He was cornered by the foe;
Neither party had a gun,
But the odds were three to one
And the Huns were fit and strong;
One was lean and very long,
One was short and stout of calf,
While the third was half and half.
Jimmy, spoiling for a fight,
Fixed the short one with his right,
While his left with martial glare
Met the long 'un's startled stare;
But—I know it sounds absurd—
He was looking at the third.
Jimmy was, I'd have you know,
Something of a boxing pro.,
So he knew the golden maxim:
"He who eyes his man best whacks him."
Shorty, when he saw the grim
Optic that was turned on him,
Thinking Jimmy's fist looked hard
Prudently remained on guard.
Canny Hun! And who can blame
Longshanks if he did the same?
But our hero, irritated,
Grassed the third man while they waited.
Filled with rage and anger, both
Rushed upon him with an oath,
Eager now to slit the gizzard
Of that astigmatic wizard,
Till they noticed with dismay
Both his eyes were far away!
(One eye sought the earth, while one
Seemed to contemplate the sun.)
Both stopped dead; the same cold thought
At their jangling heart-strings caught.
Longshanks, trembling at the knee,
Quavered, "Hans, he's watching me!"
Shorty whimpered, scared to fits,
"No, it's me he's after, Fritz!"
Sick with fear, their souls revolted;
As one man they turned and bolted.
At them Spry in mild amaze
(Literally) bent his gaze,
Sighed, and then without a word
Wandered homeward with the third.