Absurd Ditties

"Why else should she persistently
Select my boat alone?" thought he;
"I wonder why she comes? I'll ask,
Though 'tis a very ticklish task."
So, walking forward with a smile,
Beside the lass he stood awhile,
Then coughed, did Captain A. McKan.

"You're frequently aboard my boat,"
Began he; "she's the best afloat;
But, pray, may I enquire, do you
So very much admire the view?"
"Er – moderately, sir," said she.
"Exactly so! It must be me!"
Decided Captain A. McKan.

"Come, tell me, Miss, now no one's by,"
He whispered; "Won't you tell me why
You come so oft? There's naught to dread."
The lady looked surprised, and said:
"My husband works at Wapping Stair,
I daily take his dinner there."
Poor Captain Archibald McKan!

V

THAT OF MATILDA

Yes, I love you, dear Matilda,
But you may not be my bride,
And the obstacles are many
Which have caused me to decide.
Firstly, what is most annoying,
And I'm not above confessing,
Is, that I think you indolent,
And over-fond of dressing.
I've known you spend an hour or two
In a-sitting on a chair,
And a-fussing and attending
To your toilet or your hair.

There's another little matter —
You may say a simple thing —
Yet, Matilda, I must own it,
I object to hear you sing.
For the sounds you make in singing
Are so very much like squalling,
That the only term appropriate
To them is caterwauling.
Indeed, I've never heard such horrid
Noises in my life,
And I'd certainly not tolerate
Such singing in a wife.

And, Matilda dear, your language!
It is really very bad;
The expressions which you use at times,
They make me feel quite sad.
It is very, very shocking,
But I do not mind declaring
That I've heard some sounds proceeding
From your lips so much like swearing,
That I've had to raise a finger,
And to close at least one ear,
For I couldn't feel quite certain
What bad words I mightn't hear.

But worse than this, Matilda:
I hear, with pious grief,
Many rumours that Matilda
Is no better than a thief
And I'm shocked to find my darling
So entirely lost to feeling,
As to go and give her mind up
Unto picking and a-stealing.
Oh, Matilda! pray take warning,
For a prison cell doth yearn
For a person that appropriates
And takes what isn't her'n.

And the culminating blow is this:
You stay out late at night.
Now, Matilda dear, you must confess
To do this is not right.
Where you go to, dear, or what you do,
There really is no telling,
And with rage and indignation
My fond foolish heart is swelling.
Yet the faults which I've enumera-
Ted can't be wondered at,
When one realises clearly
That "Matilda" – is a cat.

VI

THAT OF "DOCTHOR" PATRICK O'DOOLEY

In the South Pacific Ocean
In an oiland called Koodoo,