Variation on a Theme

To a Den of Sin where they mingle gin-such as Lipton's, Mouquin's, or Whyte's,

And my spirit thrills to a music sweeter than Sullivan or Puccini

The swash of the ice in the shaker as he mixes a Dry Martini.

The drys will assert that metallic sound is the selfsame canon made

By the ice in the shaker that holds a drink like orange or lemonade;

But on the word of a travelled man and a bard who has been around,

The sound of tin on ice and gin is a snappier, happier sound.

And I mean to hymn, as soon as I have a moment of leisure time,

The chill susurrus of cocktail ice in an adequate piece of rhyme.

But I've just had an invitation to hark, at a beckoning bar,

To the sound of the ice in the shaker as the barkeeper mixes a Star.

ENNY kiss'd me in a dream;

JENNY

So did Elsie, Lucy, Cora, Bessie, Gwendolyn, Eupheme, Alice, Adelaide, and Dora. Say of honour I'm devoid, Say monogamy has miss'd me, But don't say to Dr. Freud

Jenny kiss'd me.

The Ballad of Justifiable Homicide

HEY brought to me his mangled corpse

THE

And I feared lest I should swing.

"O tell me, tell me,-and make it briefWhy hast thou done this thing?

"Had this man robbed the starving poor
Or lived a gunman's life,

Had he set fire to cottages,
Or run off with thy wife?"

"He hath not robbed the starving poor,
Nor lived a gunman's life;

He hath set fire to no cottage,
Nor run off with my wife.

"Ye ask me such a question that
It now my lips unlocks:

I learned he was the man who planned
The second balcony box."

The jury pondered never an hour,

They thought not even a little,

But handed in unanimously
A verdict of acquittal.

The Ballad of the Murdered

A

Merchant

LL stark and cold the merchant lay,
All cold and stark lay he.

And who hath killed this fair merchant?
Now tell the truth to me.

Oh, I have killed this fair merchant
Will never again draw breath;
Oh, I have made this fair merchant
To come unto his death.

Oh, why hast thou killed this fair merchant
Whose corse I now behold?

And why hast caused this man to lie
In death all stark and cold?

Oh, I have killed this fair merchant
Whose kith and kin make moan,
For that he hath stolen my precious time
When he useth the telephone.

The telephone bell rang full and clear;
The receiver did I seize.

"Hello!" quoth I, and quoth a girl,
"Hello! ... One moment, please."

The Ballad of the Murdered Merchant

I waited moments ane and twa,

And moments three and four,

And then I sought that fair merchant
And spilled his selfish gore.

That business man who scorneth to waste
His moments sae rich and fine
In calling a man to the telephone
Shall never again waste mine!

And every time a henchwoman
Shall cause me a moment's loss,
I'll forthwith fare to that office
And stab to death her boss.

Rise up! Rise up! thou blesséd knight!
And off thy bended knees!

Go forth and slay all folk who make

Us wait "One moment, please."