SHINGLE-SHORT
(Opens door, and sits down on step outside.)
Well, you old Stars! you look amused.
Kind of a general twinkle-wink.
Jolly good joke on, I should think;
Wish I could catch a whiff of it!
—Wouldn’t surprise me, now, not half,
If my concerns was in the laugh?
Well, sooner you than larrikins!
Nor ’tain’t so many moments since
You seen me sit all cock-a-hoop,
Catchin’ Creation in a loop,
An’ ladlin’ Skill out by the scoop,
While, now....’Tis kind o’ laugh—an’ cry:
Tickles the taste, but works the eye,
An’ makes the munchin’ mouth go wry,
Don’t it? like pickles....Well, all right!
’Tis a bit laughable, I know.
The things I do are mostly so.
Most eyes are straight, but some, they squint:
Most cylinders are truly cast,
But sometimes one has blow-holes in’t:
There’s nuts, which isn’t screw’d in right,
An’ keeps whole plates from settin’ tight:
An’ Olsen’s bran new boiler burst:—
I’m like ’em: failure from the first.
That’s so. An’ yet.... it’s rummy, too;
’Cause, if I’d got to die this hour,
I swear to God, I have got power!
Why, can’t I see things in the piece,
Not scraps, like other people do?
27
