PART II
HUMOROUS HITS
THE TRAIN-MISSER
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
'Ll where in the world my eyes has bin—
Ef I haint missed that train agin!
Chuff! and whistle! and toot! and ring!
But blast and blister the dasted train!—
How it does it I can't explain!
Git here thirty-five minutes before
The dern thing's due!—and, drat the thing!
It'll manage to git past—shore!
The more I travel around, the more
I got no sense!— To stand right here
And let it beat me! 'Ll ding my melts!
I got no gumption, ner nothin' else!
Ticket-agent's a dad-burned bore!—
Sell you a ticket's all they keer!—
Ticket-agents ort to all be
Prosecuted—and that's jes' what!—
How'd I know which train's fer me?
And how'd I know which train was not?—
Goern and comin' and gone astray,
And backin' and switchin' ever'-which-way!
Ef I could jes' sneak round behind
Myse'f, where I could git full swing,
I'd lift my coat, and kick, by jing!
Till I jes' got jerked up and fined!—
Fer here I stood, as a dern fool's apt
To, and let that train jes' chuff and choo
Right apast me—and mouth jes' gapped
Like a blamed old sandwitch warped in two!
"Afterwhiles," copyright 1898, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. Used by special permission of the publishers.
THE ELOCUTIONIST'S CURFEW
BY W. D. NESBIT
England's sun was slowly setting—(Raise your right hand to your brow),
Filling all the land with beauty—(Wear a gaze of rapture now);
And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair
(With a movement slow and graceful you may now push back your hair);
He with sad, bowed head—(A drooping of your head will be all right,
Till you hoarsely, sadly whisper)—"Curfew must not ring to-night."
"Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered—(Try here to resemble Bess,
Tho of course you know she'd never worn quite such a charming dress),
"I've a lover in that prison"—(Don't forget to roll your r's
And to shiver as tho gazing through the iron prison bars),
"Cromwell will not come till sunset"—(Speak each word as tho you'd bite
Every syllable to pieces)—"Curfew must not ring to-night."
"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton—(Here extend your velvet palm,
Let it tremble like the sexton's as tho striving to be calm),
"Long, long y'ars I've rung the curfew"—(Don't forget to make it y'ars
With a pitiful inflection that a world of sorrow bears),
"I have done my duty ever"—(Draw yourself up to your height,
For you're speaking as the sexton)—"Gyurl, the curfew rings to-night!"