There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,
Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,
And he was very fortunate in being very bald,
And so was very happy he was so.
He warbled all the day
Such songs as only they
Who are very, very circumspect and very happy may;
The people wondered why,
As the years went grinding by,
They never heard him once complain or even heave a sigh!
The women of the province fell in love with genial Ben,
Till (maybe you can fancy it) the dickens was to pay
Among the callow students and the sober-minded men—
With the women folk a-cuttin' up that way!
Why, they gave him turbans red
To adorn his hairless head,
And knitted jaunty nightcaps to protect him when abed!
In vain the rest demurred—
Not a single chiding word
Those ladies deigned to tolerate—remonstrance was absurd!
Things finally got into such a very dreadful way
That the others (oh, how artful!) formed the politic design
To send him to the reichstag; so, one dull November day
They elected him a member from the Rhine!
Then the other members said:
"Gott in Himmel; what a head!"
But they marveled when his speeches they listened to or read;
And presently they cried:
"There must be heaps inside
Of the smooth and shiny cranium his constituents deride!"
Well, when at last he up 'nd died—long past his ninetieth year—
The strangest and the most luguberous funeral he had,
For women came in multitudes to weep upon his bier—
The men all wond'ring why on earth the women had gone mad!
And this wonderment increased,
Till the sympathetic priest
Inquired of those same ladies: "Why this fuss about deceased?"
Whereupon they were appalled,
For, as one, those women squalled:
"We doted on deceased for being bald—bald—bald!"
He was bald because his genius burnt that shock of hair away,
Which, elsewise, clogs one's keenness and activity of mind,
And (barring present company, of course,) I'm free to say
That, after all, it's intellect that captures woman-kind.
At any rate, since then
(With a precedent in Ben),
The women-folk have been in love with us bald-headed men!

IN HOLLAND.

Our course lay up a smooth canal
Through tracks of velvet green,
And through the shade that windmills made,
And pasture lands between.
The kine had canvas on their backs
To temper Autumn's spite,
And everywhere there was an air
Of comfort and delight.
My wife, dear philosophic soul!
Saw here whereof to prate:
"Vain fools are we across the sea
To boast our nobler state!
Go north or south or east or west,
Or wheresoever you please,
You shall not find what's here combined—
Equality and ease!
"How tidy are these honest homes
In every part and nook—
The men folk wear a prosperous air,
The women happy look.
Seeing the peace that smiles around,
I would our land was such—
Think as you may, I'm free to say
I would we were the Dutch!"
Just then we overtook a boat
(The Golden Tulip hight)—
Big with the weight of motley freight,
It was a goodly sight!
Meynheer van Blarcom sat on deck,
With pipe in lordly pose,
And with his son of twenty-one
He played at dominoes.
Then quoth my wife: "How fair to see
This sturdy, honest man
Beguile all pain and lust of gain
With whatso joys he can;
Methinks his spouse is down below
Beading a kerchief gay—
A babe, mayhap, lolls in her lap
In the good old Milky way.
"Where in the land from whence we came
Is there content like this—
Where such disdain of sordid gain,
Such sweet domestic bliss?
A homespun woman I, this land
Delights me overmuch—
Think as you will and argue still,
I like the honest Dutch."
And then my wife made end of speech—
Her voice stuck in her throat,
For, swinging around the turn, we found
What motor moved the boat;
Hitched up in tow-path harness there
Was neither horse nor cow,
But the buxom frame of a Hollandische dame—
Meynheer van Blarcom's frau.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows:

Page 6: Japan changed to Spain
Page 85: you re changed to you're
Page 101: comma added after spiders
Page 113: ' changed to " before Let
Page 157: the changed to they