The Duke.
We’re ready as witness
To any one’s fitness
To fill any place or preferment;
We’re often in waiting
At junket fêting,
And sometimes attend an interment.
In short, if you’d kindle
The spark of a swindle,
Lure simpletons into your clutches,
Or hoodwink a debtor,
You cannot do better
Than trot out a Duke or a Duchess!
EHEU FUGACES—!
The air is charged with amatory numbers—
Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers’ lays.
Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers
The aching memory of the old, old days?
Time was when Love and I were well acquainted;
Time was when we walked ever hand in hand;
A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,
None better loved than I in all the land!
Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,
Forsaking even military men,
Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration—
Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!
Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;
Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;
Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;
And when I coughed all thought the end was near!
I had no care—no jealous doubts hung o’er me—
For I was loved beyond all other men.
Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me—
Ah me, I was a pale young curate then!
THEY’LL NONE OF ’EM BE MISSED
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list—I’ve got a little list
Of social offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed—who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs—
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs—
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with ’em flat—
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that—
And all third persons who on spoiling tête-à-têtes insist—
They’d none of ’em be missed—they’d none of ’em be missed!
There’s the nigger serenader, and the others of his race,
And the piano organist—I’ve got him on the list!
And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed—they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
And who “doesn’t think she waltzes, but would rather like to try”;
And that fin-de-siècle anomaly, the scorching motorist—
I don’t think he’d be missed—I’m sure he’d not be missed!
And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The Judicial humorist—I’ve got him on the list!
All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life—
They’d none of ’em be missed—they’d none of ’em be missed!
And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind,
Such as—What-d’ye-call-him—Thing’em-Bob, and likewise—Never-mind,
And ’St—’st—’st—and What’s-his-name, and also—You-know-who—
(The task of filling up the blanks I’d rather leave to you!)
But it really doesn’t matter whom you put upon the list,
For they’d none of ’em be missed—they’d none of ’em be missed!