A beautiful petal has fallen
From the spray of the purple peon;
The crystal mofussil is rippling
In the smile of the jutka moon;
And the distant cheetahs are warbling
A pensive cardamom tune.
Arise, O my tattie, my love!
Awake, O my tiffin, my dear!
Come into the pawnee, love,
For thy faithful chuckrum is here.
The tappal sighs, 'She is late, she is late!'
The banghy whispers, 'She's near!'
She is coming, my godown, my ghaut!
She is coming, my dawk, my sweet!
My cutcherry leaps, and my tope
In my bosom begins to beat,—
O my love, my massoolah, my ghee,
Thy poochie is at thy feet!
The Wonderful Discovery
Never has India seen,—
And ne'er will again, I wist,—
As DR. PYRETIC SALINE,
Such a great Geologist.
Where'er the Doctor may go
Of wondrous discoveries we hear,
He picks up a pebble—and lo!—
Terebratulæ therein appear!
To a rock he has only to choose
To give a magnetic squint,
And petroleum's sure to ooze
Out of some crevice in't!
Under his magical tread,
Or before his magical nose,
In the crag above his head,
Or the ground around his toes,—
Coal is sure to abound,
Where no one e'er saw it before,
And, waiting for smelting, is found
By the side of it, iron ore!
But the greatest of men may err:
So did, as will shortly be seen,
This great Discoverer,
DR. PYRETIC SALINE.