Which same might not have been good law, but it wuz the right maneuver To give the critics due respect for Pettibone's shef doover. Gone is the camp, — yes, years ago the Blue Horizon busted, And every mother's son uv us got up one day 'nd dusted, While Pettibone perceeded East with wealth in his possession, And went to Yurrup, as I heerd, to study his per fession; So, like as not, you'll find him now a-paintin' heads 'nd faces At Venus, Billy Florence, and the like I-talyun places. But no sech face he'll paint again as at old Blue Horizon, For I'll allow no sweeter face no human soul sot eyes on; And when the critics talk so grand uv Paris 'nd the I Loover, say, "Oh, but you orter seen the Pettibone shef doover!" THE WANDERER. UPON a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Whether there dropped by some too careless hand, Strange, was it not? Far from its native deep, Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide, Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide, — Ever with echoes of the ocean rang. And as the shell upon the mountain height Sings of the sea, So do I ever, leagues and leagues away, So do I ever, wandering where I may, Sing, O my home! sing, O my home! of thee. 1883. TO A USURPER. AHA! a traitor in the camp, A rebel strangely bold, A lisping, laughing, toddling scamp, To think that I, who 've ruled alone Should be ejected from my throne He trots his treason to and fro, As only babies can, And says he'll be his mamma's beau You stingy boy! you 've always had Would you begrudge your poor old dad That mamma, I regret to see, Inclines to take your part, — As if a dual monarchy Should rule her gentle heart! But when the years of youth have sped, Will quite forget he ever said He'd be his mamma's beau. Renounce your treason, little son, And when that other comes to you, 1885. |