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Read Ebook: Poems for Pale People A Volume of Verse by Ranck Edwin Carty
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Ebook has 236 lines and 16363 words, and 5 pages
Good people if you have the mumps, Or ever get down with the dumps; Or have bad cold or aching pains, Or ever suffer with chilblains-- Don't seek your doctor for advice, And pay him some tremendous price, But buy a drug that's safe and sure-- In fact, get Blank's Consumptive Cure.
ALAS.
He led her out across the sand, And by her side did sit: He asked to hold her little hand, She sweetly answered, "Nit."
THE GLORIOUS FOURTH AND ITS MEMORIES.
Have you ever mused in silence upon a summer's day And let your thoughts run riot and your feelings have full sway, As you sprawled full length upon the grass in some secluded dell And breathed the balmy country air, and smelt the country smell?
Then as you muse, And gently snooze, Between thinks You remember those jinks When spirits were high On the Fourth of July.
There was little Willie Browning, the worst of all the boys Who had a sure-nuff cannon that made all kinds of noise; And when the cannon wouldn't go he blew into the muzzle, But what became of Willie's teeth has always been a puzzle.
How the folks looked askance At the seats of our pants, When those giant skyrockets Went off in our pockets! Gee whiz! What fun the Fourth is!
When the red-hot July sun began to wink the clouds away, We were out with whoops and shoutings to celebrate the day. With piece of punk in one hand and crackers in the other, We would troop home later in the day for linseed oil and mother.
But our burns Were small concerns. Our hearts were light, Injuries slight. Not even a sigh On the Fourth of July.
And as you lie and ponder, the thought comes home to you That your youngest boy now celebrates the way you used to do; And the mother that he bawls for to have those small wounds dressed Is the woman whom long years ago you swore you loved the best.
But what funny things Memory brings. Who would have thought That I would be caught With a tear in my eye On the Fourth of July.
KEEP TRYIN'.
When you're feelin' blue as ink An' your spirits 'gin to sink, Don't be weak an' take a drink But Keep Tryin'.
There are times when all of us Get riled up and start a muss, But there ain't no use to cuss, Just Keep Tryin'.
When things seem to go awry, And the sun deserts your sky, Don't sit down somewhere and cry, But Keep Tryin'.
Everybody honors grit, Men who never whine a bit-- Men who tell the world, "I'm IT" And Keep Tryin'.
Get a hustle on you NOW, Make a great, big solemn vow That you'll win out anyhow, And Keep Tryin'.
All the world's a battlefield Where the true man is revealed, But the ones who never yield Keep Tryin'.
GENIUS.
There was once a young man quite erratic Who lived all alone in an attic, He wrote magazine verse That made editors curse, But his friends thought it fine and dramatic.
TALE OF THREE CITIES.
But the couple eloped to Caracas, Where the Germans kicked up such a fracas; And he said to his wife, "You can bet your sweet life That papa dear never will track us."
MODERN MAUD MULLER.
Maud Muller on a summer's day, Raked the meadows, sweet with hay. Nor was this just a grand-stand play; Maud got a rake-off, so they say.
NOCTURNE.
A cat duet. A silhouette. A high brick wall, An awful squall. A moonlit night, A mortal fight. A man in bed, Sticks out his head. Gee Whiz! The man has riz. His arm draws back A big bootjack-- A loud swish, Squish! "What's that?" A dead cat.
THE SISSY BOY.
Beware the Sissy Boy my child, Not because he's very wild; The Sissy Boy is never that, Although he'll run if you say "Scat!" The Sissy Boy's infinitesimal, He is not worth a duodecimal.
If you should take a custard pie And hit a Sissy in the eye, He would not go before a jury, He'd only blush and say "Oh Fury!" For he is perfumed, sweet and mild, That's just his kind, my dearest child.
One should never strike a Sissy, He is too lady-like and prissy. You do not need to use your fist But merely slap him on the wrist, And if this will not make him budge, Then glare at him and say "Oh Fudge!"
The Sissy sports a pink cravat And often wears a high silk hat; His voice is like a turtle dove's And he always wears the "cutest" gloves. At playing ping-pong he's inured, And his finger-nails are manicured.
He uses powder on his face And his handkerchiefs are trimmed with lace; He loves to play progressive euchre And spend his papa's hard-earned lucre. He wears an air of nonchalance And always takes in every dance.
Socially, he's quite a pet And always fashionably in debt. He hates to be considered slow And poses as a famous beau. He loves to cut a swath and dash When papa dear puts up the cash.
This, my child, is the Sissy Boy Who acts so womanly and coy. His head's as soft as new-made butter; His aim in life is just to flutter; Yet he goes along with unconcern And marries a woman with money to burn.
TO GELETT BURGESS.
I never saw a purple cow, You say you never saw one; But this I'll tell you anyhow, I know that I can draw one.
THE LOBSTER.
Lobsters haven't any feet, But they have lots of claws; Yet lobster meat is good to eat, And this is strange, because-- A dog is never good to eat, And yet a dog has paws, And so have cats, and so have rats And so have other kind of brats.
A lobster then, so to speak, Is, my child, an awful freak; For if you get him in a stew, He'll blush quite red and glare at you. Yet if you eat much lobster salad, It will make you very pallid.
A PUN FROM THE DEEP.
A funny thing once happened to a German from Berlin, For once he got too gay and seized a swordfish by the fin, This made the big fish angry, and he sawed the German's chin. "Just Tell Them That I Saw You" said the swordfish with a grin.
STYLISH.
There once was an old crocodile Who lived on the banks of the Nile. One day, for a meal, He swallowed a wheel, And ate for dessert, an automobile.
IF I COULD FLY.
If I had wings just like a bird Do you know what I'd do? I'd fly way up into the sky An' holler down at you.
I'd fly along the Milky Way Feelin' fine and chipper, An' then I'd drink some buttermilk Fresh from out the Dipper.
I'd skim along through fleecy clouds, An' see the great, Big Bear An' ask him how he liked to live So high up in the air.
Wouldn't it be dandy To fly just when you please, An' go an' ask the Dog-star If he worried much with fleas?
I'd do all kinds of other things If I could only fly, But I am just a little boy An' so I dassn't try.
A HAND-ME-DOWN.
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