Carolyn Wells - A Parody Anthology

One touch to her hand and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door and the charger
Stood near on three legs eating post-hay;
So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,
Then leaped to the saddle before her.
“She is won! we are gone! over bank! bush, and spar,
They'll have swift steeds that follow" – but in the

Excitement of the moment he had forgotten
To untie the horse, and the poor brute could
Only gallop in a little circus around the
Hitching-post; so the old gent collared
The youth and gave him the awfullest lambasting
That was ever heard of on Canobie Lee;
So dauntless in war and so daring in love,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

IT is an Ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three —
In fact he coolly took my arm —
“There was a ship," quoth he.

“Bother your ships!" said I, “is this
The time a yarn to spin?
This is a wedding, don't you see,
And I am next of kin.

“The wedding breakfast has begun,
We're hungry as can be —
Hold off! Unhand me, longshore man!"
With that his hand dropt he.

But there was something in his eye,
That made me sick and ill,
Yet forced to listen to his yarn —
The Mariner'd had his will.

While Tom and Harry went their way
I sat upon a stone —
So queer on Fanny's wedding day
Me sitting there alone!

Then he began, that Mariner,
To rove from pole to pole,
In one long-winded, lengthened-out,
Eternal rigmarole,

About a ship in which he'd sailed,
Though whither, goodness knows,
Where “ice will split with a thunder-fit,"
And every day it snows.

And then about a precious bird
Of some sort or another,
That – was such nonsense ever heard? —
Used to control the weather!

Now, at this bird the Mariner
Resolved to have a shy,
And laid it low with his cross-bow —
And then the larks! My eye!

For loss of that uncommon fowl,
They couldn't get a breeze;
And there they stuck, all out of luck,
And rotted on the seas.

The crew all died, or seemed to die,
And he was left alone
With that queer bird. You never heard
What games were carried on!

At last one day he stood and watched
The fishes in the sea,
And said, “I'm blest!" and so the ship
Was from the spell set free.

And it began to rain and blow,
And as it rained and blew,
The dead got up and worked the ship —
That was a likely crew!

However, somehow he escaped,
And got again to land,
But mad as any hatter, say,
From Cornhill to the Strand.

For he believes that certain folks
Are singled out by fate,
To whom this cock-and-bull affair
Of his he must relate.

Describing all the incidents,
And painting all the scenes,
As sailors will do in the tales
They tell to the Marines.

Confound the Ancient Mariner!
I knew I should be late;
And so it was; the wedding guests
Had all declined to wait.

Another had my place, and gave
My toast; and sister Fan
Said “'Twas a shame. What could you want
With that seafaring man?"

I felt like one that had been stunned
Through all this wrong and scorn;
A sadder and a later man
I rose the morrow morn.

IT was a railway passenger,
And he lept out jauntilie.
"Now up and bear, thou stout portèr,
My two chattèls to me.

"Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red,
And portmanteau so brown;
(They lie in the van, for a trusty man
He labelled them London town:)

"And fetch me eke a cabman bold,
That I may be his fare, his fare;
And he shall have a good shilling,
If by two of the clock he do me bring
To the Terminus, Euston Square."

"Now, – so to thee the saints alway,
Good gentleman, give luck, —
As never a cab may I find this day,
For the cabman wights have struck.

And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn,
Or else at the Dog and Duck,
Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin,
The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin
Right pleasantly they do suck."

"Now rede me aright, thou stout portèr,
What were it best that I should do:
For woe is me, an' I reach not there
Or ever the clock strike two."

"I have a son, a lytel son;
Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's:
Give him a shilling, and eke a brown,
And he shall carry thy fardels down
To Euston, or half over London town,
On one of the station trucks."

Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare,
The gent and the son of the stout portèr,
Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair,
Through all the mire and muck:
"A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray:
For by two of the clock must I needs away."
"That may hardly be," the clerk did say,
"For indeed – the clocks have struck."

"YOU are cold, Father William," the young man cried,
"You shake and you shiver, I say;
You've a cold, Father William, your nose it is red,
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied —
(He was a dissembling old man)
"I put lumps of ice in my grandpapa's boots,
And snowballed my Aunt Mary Ann."

"Go along, Father William," the young man cried,
"You are trying it on, sir, to-day;
What makes your teeth chatter like bone castanets?
Come tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
"I went to the North Pole with Parry;
And now, my sweet boy, the Arc-tic doloreaux
Plays with this old man the Old Harry."

"Get out! Father William," the young man cried.
"Come, you shouldn't go on in this way;
You are funny, but still you've a frightful bad cold —
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cold, then, dear youth," Father William replied;
"I've a cold, my impertinent son,
Because for some weeks my coals have been bought
At forty-eight shillings a ton!"

"YOU are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head —
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"
"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door —
Pray what is the reason of that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling the box —
Allow me to sell you a couple."
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak;
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose —
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"