I sat me down at leisure;
The ready waiter flew,
My order took suavely,
And shouted, "Oyster stew!"
The steaming dish was waiting,
The ready waiter flew,
Then, rose I up in anger,
And left,—'twas "oysters two!"
HERBERT WELCH. Wesleyan Argus.
~Broken Chains.~
He was tired of being shackled;
She was faithless, that was plain;
So his lawyer filed the papers,
And the papers filed his chain.
EUGENE A. COX. Vanderbilt Observer.
~Gory Gambols.~
I love my adversary's leg to kick,
To frisk upon his features with my feet,
Or bunt him in the stomach till he's sick—
All this is sweet.
I smile to hear his collar bone collapse,
Accompanied by his expiring screech;
To crack his ribs is happiness, perhaps,
Beyond all reach.
I laugh aloud when, in the scrimmage wild,
I smash the thigh bone of some lusty boy,
And see him borne off, helpless as a child—
That, that is joy.