* * *
Lady Myrtilla, you've doped it out right.
Christmas Cards
I
TO THE GROCERY BOY
Before you send me up that card
With rime and diction far from subtle,
Hear what a now rebellious bard
Says in a quasi-pre-rebuttal.
"A nickel in a poor boy's hat!"
You, minion of a grubbing grocer,
You dare, indeed, to ask me that?
Bold and relentless, say I, "No, sir!"
You who bring some one else's tea
To us, while ours goes to the neighbours,
And yet you dare demand from me
Reward for inefficient labours!
You who but lately made me hit
My head upon the dum-dum waiter—
From me you get no silver bit.
Fie, out upon you, youthful traitor!
Hard is my heart and tight my purse;
Deaf is my ear to all your suing.
Except this little bit of verse,
There's absolutely nothing doing.