SHINGLE-SHORT
What a salvation, ain’t it? Ay,
You’ve got the bridle on Success;
Your notions needn’t come to nought;
You don’t mean ships, an’ make a mess.
—What O, there! Stop! That’s my address....
You’ve made me—an’ I’m shingle-short:
An’ Things—which isn’t all they ought....
An’ still Your turn-out’s like Your Thought?....
What’s that?....You meant us this way, then?
You mapp’d us out this mangy sort?
You really had got reasons for’t?
....My word! It seems to take some sight
To see if things is wrong or right....
—Maybe, You ain’t quite through with us?
Fools shouldn’t see things half-way through....
A half-hatched egg, ain’t that a fright?
—Now, see here! Stow it! That’ll do!
There ain’t no need for you to fuss,
An’ make yourself ridicculous;
Better shut up your silly jaws;
It’s solid anyway, because
There’s just one thing as He can’t make,
But that one thing is,—a mistake!
Golly! By rights I’d ought to move
Rejoicin’ down my gritty groove.
’Tain’t as if I’d been on the job;
When the Headfitter’s fitted it,
Guess you can bet your measly mind
A misfit isn’t no misfit,
But workin’, tho’ it works askew,
Pre-cisely how it’s meant to do.
....I ain’t no failure, then, nor sport?
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