XXVII. DER PATTER OF DER SHINGLES. TRANSLATED FROM THE ENGLISH BY D. C. C. WHEN der angry passion gaddering in my mudder's face I see, Und she leads me in her pedroom, shendly lays me on her knee, Den I know dot I vill catch it, and my flesh in fancy itches Efery tinkle of der shingle has an echo and a shding, Und a dousand burning fancies indo active being spring Und a dousand bees and hornets nead my coad-dail seem to schwarm In a shplutter comes mine fadder-whom I supposed had gone Do survey der skiduvation, und dell her do lay it on, Do see her bending o'er me as I lisden do her strain Blayed by her and by der shingle in a vild and weird refrain. I a sudden indermission, vich appears my only schance, I say, "Shtrike shendly, mudder, or you'll shplit mine Sunday bants;" She shtops a moment, draws her breath, der shingle holds aloft, Und says, "I had not thought of dot-mine son, chust dake dem off.” Oh, lofeing, tender mercy, cast dhy pitying glances down ; Und dhou, oh, vamily doctor, put a good, soft bouldice on ; Und may I mit vools und dunces afderward comingle, Und nefer say anudder vord ven my mudder wields der shingle. Merry cats! Oh, I love to hear the music of there midnight nightly spats! And they waltz around and frisk all, In the icy air of night, In a way so weird and brisk all, While their shapely tails they whisk all, With a Cataline delight Keeping time with their tails, Like a lot of Runic flails, To the concat-cantentation, sung in sundry sharps and flats, Cataphonic ditty floats To the turtle cat that gloats On the fence! Ah, the tabby cat that listens, while she gloats, To the surging cataclysm of their wild, catarrhal notes! How they make us long to grasp a score of rattling good brickbats! They have caught a had catarrh, Out of tune. In a clamorous appealing to the aged tabby cat, Shrieking higher, higher, higher, Like a demon in a fire While the little kitten cats Infant cats Sing an emulous, sweet ditty of their love for mice and rats? But a rudimental spasm of the capers of the cats! XXIX.-DER BABY. O help me gracious, efery day I laugh me wild to see der vay Vhen I look on dhem leetle toes, und saw dot funny leetle nose, Und when I heard der real nice vay Dhem beoples to my wife dhey say, "More like his fater every day," I was so proud like blazes. Sometimes dhere comes a little schquall, dots when der vindy vind vill crawl Righd in its leetle schtomach schmall,-dot's too bad for der baby. Dot makes him sing at night so schveet, uhd gorrybarric he must eat, He bulls my nose and kicks my hair, und crawls me ofer everywhere, Around my neck dot leetle arm vas squeezing me so nice und varm ; B XXX.-FRITZEY'S DEAD. OOFTY GOOFT. OOR leedle Fritzey, alas! he's no more, His dops und his ball dem musd be laid von side, De dom cat und kittens vill comford dook now, Der doctor was mit him dree nights und five days, Oh, der bile dot he dook vas immense ! He vas a nice leedle feller, so glefer und shmart, For verefer he vas you'd be cerdain to heard Leedle Fritzey a humming a song, Bud he's hummed his lasd hum, he's ub abofe now, XXXI. THE LEARNED NEGRO. THERE was a negro preacher, I have heard, In southern parts, before rebellion stirred, Who did not spend his strength in empty sound; His was a mind deep-reaching and profound. Others might beat the air, and make a noise, And help to amuse the silly girls and boys; But as for him he was a man of thought, Deep in theology, although untaught. 66 He could not read or write, but he was wise, The preacher rose, rubbing up his head, On which God fashioned Adam, de first man. "Stop," said a voice; and straightway there uprose And rubbed his hair to know what words to use: XXXIII.-ECONOMY.-THE TURBOT. JOR 'A TALE. ORD ENDLESS, walking to the Hall, "How much d'ye ask, friend, for this fish?" Send it up quick to Bedford Square; A sov'reign's here-now mind, when there,. My lady's economical. The fish was sent, my lady thought it She paid one pound, and cried "Odd rat it!" A knock announces Lady Tatter, I paid but thirty shillings for it, You'd say 'twas dirt cheap if you saw it. 19 The bargain struck-cash paid-fish gone-- He stared to see my lady smile, 'Twas what he had not seen somewhile : There was hashed beef, and leeks a boat full, But turbot none; my lord looked doubtful, "My dear, I think-is no fish come?” "There is love; leave the room, John-mum ! I sold the fish, you silly man : I make a bargain when I can : The fish which cost us shillings twenty, I sold for thirty, so content ye; For one pound ten, to Lady Tatter! Lord! how you stare! why what's the matter ?" So, madam, you were free to doubt it. "Two pounds! good heavens! who could doubt That the fish cost what I laid out? |