The Book of Humorous Verse

by Unknown

Where the Moosatockmaguntic Pours its waters in the Skuntic, Met, along the forest side Hiram Hover, Huldah Hyde. She, a maiden fair and dapper, He, a red-haired, stalwart trapper, Hunting beaver, mink, and skunk In the woodlands of Squeedunk. She, Pentucket's pensive daughter, Walked beside the Skuntic water Gathering, in her apron wet, Snake-root, mint, and bouncing-bet. "Why," he murmured, loth to leave her, "Gather yarbs for chills and fever, When a lovyer bold and true, Only waits to gather you?" "Go," she answered, "I'm not hasty, I prefer a man more tasty; Leastways, one to please me well Should not have a beasty smell." "Haughty Huldah!" Hiram answered, "Mind and heart alike are cancered; Jest look here! these peltries give Cash, wherefrom a pair may live. "I, you think, am but a vagrant, Trapping beasts by no means fragrant; Yet, I'm sure it's worth a thank— I've a handsome sum in bank." Turned and vanished Hiram Hover, And, before the year was over, Huldah, with the yarbs she sold, Bought a cape, against the cold. Black and thick the furry cape was, Of a stylish cut the shape was; And the girls, in all the town, Envied Huldah up and down. Then at last, one winter morning, Hiram came without a warning. "Either," said he, "you are blind, Huldah, or you've changed your mind. "Me you snub for trapping varmints, Yet you take the skins for garments; Since you wear the skunk and mink, There's no harm in me, I think." "Well," said she, "we will not quarrel, Hiram; I accept the moral, Now the fashion's so I guess I can't hardly do no less." Thus the trouble all was over Of the love of Hiram Hover. Thus he made sweet Huldah Hyde Huldah Hover as his bride. Love employs, with equal favor, Things of good and evil savor; That which first appeared to part, Warmed, at last, the maiden's heart. Under one impartial banner, Life, the hunter, Love the tanner, Draw, from every beast they snare, Comfort for a wedded pair! Bayard Taylor.

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BLOW ME EYES!

When I was young and full o' pride, A-standin' on the grass And gazin' o'er the water-side, I seen a fisher lass. "O, fisher lass, be kind awhile," I asks 'er quite unbid. "Please look into me face and smile"— And, blow me eyes, she did! O, blow me light and blow me blow, I didn't think she'd charm me so— But, blow me eyes, she did! She seemed so young and beautiful I had to speak perlite, (The afternoon was long and dull, But she was short and bright). "This ain't no place," I says, "to stand— Let's take a walk instid, Each holdin' of the other's hand"— And, blow me eyes, she did! O, blow me light and blow me blow, I sort o' thunk she wouldn't go— But, blow me eyes, she did! And as we walked along a lane With no one else to see, Me heart was filled with sudden pain, And so I says to she: "If you would have me actions speak The words what can't be hid, You'd sort o' let me kiss yer cheek"— And, blow me eyes, she did! O, blow me light and blow me blow, How sweet she was I didn't know— But, blow me eyes, she did! But pretty soon me shipmate Jim Came strollin' down the beach, And she began a-oglin' him As pretty as a peach. "O, fickle maid o' false intent," Impulsively I chid, "Why don't you go and wed that gent?" And, blow me eyes, she did! O, blow me light and blow me blow, I didn't think she'd treat me so— But, blow me eyes, she did! Wallace Irwin.

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FIRST LOVE

O my earliest love, who, ere I number'd Ten sweet summers, made my bosom thrill! Will a swallow—or a swift, or some bird— Fly to her and say, I love her still? Say my life's a desert drear and arid, To its one green spot I aye recur: Never, never—although three times married— Have I cared a jot for aught but her. No, mine own! though early forced to leave you, Still my heart was there where first we met; In those "Lodgings with an ample sea-view," Which were, forty years ago, "To Let." There I saw her first, our landlord's oldest Little daughter. On a thing so fair Thou, O Sun,—who (so they say) beholdest Everything,—hast gazed, I tell thee, ne'er. There she sat—so near me, yet remoter Than a star—a blue-eyed, bashful imp: On her lap she held a happy bloater, 'Twixt her lips a yet more happy shrimp. And I loved her, and our troth we plighted On the morrow by the shingly shore: In a fortnight to be disunited By a bitter fate forevermore. O my own, my beautiful, my blue-eyed! To be young once more, and bite my thumb At the world and all its cares with you, I'd Give no inconsiderable sum. Hand in hand we tramp'd the golden seaweed, Soon as o'er the gray cliff peep'd the dawn: Side by side, when came the hour for tea, we'd Crunch the mottled shrimp and hairy prawn:— Has she wedded some gigantic shrimper, That sweet mite with whom I loved to play? Is she girt with babes that whine and whimper, That bright being who was always gay? Yes—she has at least a dozen wee things! Yes—I see her darning corduroys, Scouring floors, and setting out the tea-things, For a howling herd of hungry boys, In a home that reeks of tar and sperm-oil! But at intervals she thinks, I know, Of those days which we, afar from turmoil, Spent together forty years ago. O my earliest love, still unforgotten, With your downcast eyes of dreamy blue! Never, somehow, could I seem to cotton To another as I did to you! Charles Stuart Calverley.

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WHAT IS A WOMAN LIKE?

A woman is like to—but stay— What a woman is like, who can say? There is no living with or without one. Love bites like a fly, Now an ear, now an eye, Buzz, buzz, always buzzing about one. When she's tender and kind She is like to my mind, (And Fanny was so, I remember). She's like to—Oh, dear! She's as good, very near, As a ripe, melting peach in September. If she laugh, and she chat, Play, joke, and all that, And with smiles and good humor she meet me, She's like a rich dish Of venison or fish, That cries from the table, Come eat me! But she'll plague you and vex you, Distract and perplex you; False-hearted and ranging, Unsettled and changing, What then do you think, she is like? Like sand? Like a rock? Like a wheel? Like a clock? Ay, a clock that is always at strike. Her head's like the island folks tell on, Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on; Her heart's like a lemon—so nice She carves for each lover a slice; In truth she's to me, Like the wind, like the sea, Whose raging will hearken to no man; Like a mill, like a pill, Like a flail, like a whale, Like an ass, like a glass Whose image is constant to no man; Like a shower, like a flower, Like a fly, like a pie, Like a pea, like a flea, Like a thief, like—in brief, She's like nothing on earth—but a woman! Unknown.