The grim and ghastly countenance its evil genius wore,
It was thou unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till thy song one burden bore—
Till the dirges of thy hope the melancholy burden bore—
Of never, nevermore.
MY CHRISTMAS PUDDING;
or
The Schoolboy’s Dream.
(With the Author’s apologies to Edgar Allan Poe.)
(By special request.)
Listen, all! I tell what happened on the night of Christmas Day,
After I’d been eating pudding in a very reckless way.
Just as Christmas Day was dying, as I on my bed was lying,