A Legend of Camelot, Pictures and Poems, etc/A Simple Story
A Simple Story.
I.
THERE lived a youth (he liveth yet),
And Richard was he christened;
And well he played the flageolet,
And all the ladies listened;
And some were even heard to say
His brow was handsome (in its way).
II.
But Richard met Ben Ball, a man
All chest, and cheek, and shoulder,
And ever so much bigger than
Himself, though little older;
Whose biceps Richard felt and found
It measured fifteen inches round!
III.
Now this demoralised him quite;
And then he took to reading
The naughty books that ladies write
And found there, with exceeding
Dismay, that ladies' heroes are
Wild, wicked men, and muscular!
IV.
Then in high dudgeon did he use
To feel himself all over;
But little sinew, and no thews
Could Richard's thumbs discover;
And wickedness is rarely met
In men that play the flageolet.
V.
But 'twas not yet too late to mend;
He got dumb-bells, and shyly
He took the counsel of a friend
("Experimentum vili")
And tried them first on his left arm,
And found they acted like a charm!
VI.
Much bigger waxed his biceps, but
When this left arm was finished,
The left lobe of his occiput
Had sensibly diminished;
So then he went it, right and all,
To make his nut symmetrical!
VII.
His nut soon got so hardened that
It hurt you when you hit it;
Nor could his hatter find a hat
(Already made) to fit it,
So marvellously small it grew,
As all may judge from this back view.
VIII.
At length a happy day came round
(Which I was there, and drew it)
When Richard lifted from the ground
A paving-stone, and threw it
Almost one foot three-quarters high!
And that with ladies standing by!!
IX.
Not only that: he, on his head
So dexterously caught it,
That all the ladies present said
They never should have thought it!
And even I could not but own
'Twas hard lines for the paving-stone!
X.
Next day he caught a cold, alack!
And all his muscles vanished,
But none of his old brains came back
Which his dumb-bells had banished;
And not a rack was left behind
Of what he chose to call his mind!
XI.
Poor Richard now (O have you met
Him lately) has grown bitter;
For when he plays the flageolet
The ladies talk and titter;
And no one ever thinks his brow
In any way good-looking now!
XII.
O little men, who wish to please,
Be wiser than poor Dick! shun
Big friends with brawny bicipes,
And female works of fiction:
But stick to music all your might,
Or be cut out. And serve you right!