A Parody Anthology

Scarce a year arter, by the scented hedgerows —
Down the mown hill-side, fro' the castle gateway —
Came a long train and, i' the midst, a black bier,
Easily shouldered.

"Whose is yon corse that, thus adorned wi' gourd leaves
Forth ye bear with slow step?" A mourner answer'd,
"'Tis the poor clay-cold body Lady Jane grew
Tired to abide in."

"Delve my grave quick, then, for I die to-morrow.
Delve it one furlong fro' the kidney bean-sticks,
Where I may dream she's goin' on precisely
As she was used to."

Hardly died Bill when, fro' the Lady Jane's grave,
Crept to his white death-bed a lovely pumpkin:
Climb'd the house wall and over-arched his head wi'
Billowy verdure.

Simple this tale! – but delicately perfumed
As the sweet roadside honeysuckle. That's why,
Difficult though its metre was to tackle,
I'm glad I wrote it.

    A. T. Quiller-Couch.

AFTER CAMPBELL

THE NEW ARRIVAL

THERE came to port last Sunday night
The queerest little craft,
Without an inch of rigging on;
I looked and looked – and laughed!
It seemed so curious that she
Should cross the Unknown water,
And moor herself within my room —
My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

Yet by these presents witness all
She's welcome fifty times,
And comes consigned in hope and love —
And common-metre rhymes.
She has no manifest but this,
No flag floats o'er the water;
She's too new for the British Lloyds —
My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

Ring out, wild bells – and tame ones too,
Ring out the lover's moon;
Ring in the little worsted socks,
Ring in the bib and spoon.
Ring out the muse, ring in the nurse,
Ring in the milk and water;
Away with paper, pen, and ink —
My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

    George Washington Cable.

JOHN THOMPSON'S DAUGHTER

A FELLOW near Kentucky's clime
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry,
And I'll give thee a silver dime
To row us o'er the ferry."

"Now, who would cross the Ohio,
This dark and stormy water?"
"O, I am this young lady's beau,
And she, John Thompson's daughter.

"We've fled before her father's spite
With great precipitation;
And should he find us here to-night,
I'd lose my reputation.

"They've missed the girl and purse beside,
His horsemen hard have pressed me;
And who will cheer my bonny bride,
If yet they shall arrest me?"

Out spoke the boatman then in time,
"You shall not fail, don't fear it;
I'll go, not for your silver dime,
But for your manly spirit.

"And by my word, the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
For though a storm is coming on,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this the wind more fiercely rose,
The boat was at the landing;
And with the drenching rain their clothes
Grew wet where they were standing.

But still, as wilder rose the wind,
And as the night grew drearer;
Just back a piece came the police,