NEW RHYMES FOR OLD CHILDREN.
The ——.
I never know why it should be
So rude to talk about the ——.
What funny folk we are!
I think we’ve got the jealous hump
Because we see we’ll never jump
So skilfully and far.
For, if one’s nibbled by a gnat
Or harvest-bugs or things like that,
One seldom keeps it dark;
One may enlarge upon the tale
If one is gobbled by a whale
Or swallowed by a shark;
But if you speak about the bite
Of this abandoned parasite
You’re very, very rash;
So sure is it to raise a frown
I dare not even write it down;
I simply put a ——.
None but an entomologist
Will quite admit the things exist,
And generally they insist
On using other names;
For, when at night Professors leap
Out of their scientific sleep
Because these little devils keep
Playing their usual games,
They never shout, "It seems to be
A something, something, something ——!"
(The word is never used, you see,
Except by artisans);
No, as they fling the bedclothes high
They give a wild but cultured cry,
"Confound it! Botheration! Hi!
A Pulex irritans!" A. P. H.