Haply I order apple pie,
But NOT your counsel or advice;
You rub your hands and tell me: "Why,
The mince is very nice."
You hide my hat, you hide my coat.
Let others, if they care to, give,
But as to this here gentle pote—
Be glad he lets you live.
IV
TO THE APARTMENT HOUSE TELEPHONE GIRL
Proud, imperious female person
That presideth o'er my 'phone,
Hearken while I do some verse on
Thee, and thee alone.
Puffed and pompadoured and ratted,
Reading Munsey's all the day,
Pony-coated, otter-hatted—
Listen to my lay:
When I beg in desperation,
"Eight O Seven Riverside,"
Why do I get "Information"?
Is it justified?
Why—I ask it with insistence—
Why—prepare to be appalled—
Why "$2.85 Long Distance"
That I never called?
When I call thee, "They don't answer"
Tells me Central. (Oh, the crime!)
Then thou sayest, thou Romancer,
"Been here all the time!"
Tyrant trim and telephonic,
Christmas offerings to thee?
Pardon if I seem laconic:
Not a single c.