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In: Poetry·Humour·British Literature
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #7846.
The opening · free to read
Old is the song that I sing-- Old as my unpaid bills-- Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring Men at dak-bungalows--old as the Hills.
Ahasuerus Jenkins of the “Operatic Own” Was dowered with a tenor voice of super-Santley tone.
His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle queer; He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh! he had an ear.
He clubbed his wretched company a dozen times a day, He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way, His method of saluting was the joy of all beholders, But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his shoulders.
He took two months to Simla when the year was at the spring, And underneath the deodars eternally did sing.
He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly at Cornelia Agrippina who was musical and fat.
She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, controlled a Dept., Where Cornelia Agrippina's human singing-birds were kept From April to October on a plump retaining fee, Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury.
Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins used to play; He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was false as they: So when the winds of April turned the budding roses brown, Cornelia told her husband: “Tom, you mustn't send him down.”
They haled him from his regiment which didn't much regret him; They found for him an office-stool, and on that stool they set him, To play with maps and catalogues three idle hours a day, And draw his plump retaining fee--which means his double pay.
Now, ever after dinner, when the coffeecups are brought, Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand pianoforte; And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath waxen great, And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the State.
POTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E., Stands at the top of the tree; And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led To the hoisting of Potiphar G.
Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is seven years junior to Me; Each bridge that he makes he either buckles or breaks, And his work is as rough as he.
Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is coarse as a chimpanzee; And I can't understand why you gave him your hand, Lovely Mehitabel Lee.
Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is dear to the Powers that Be; For They bow and They smile in an affable style Which is seldom accorded to Me.
Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is certain as certain can be Of a highly-paid post which is claimed by a host Of seniors--including Me.
Careless and lazy is he, Greatly inferior to Me.
What is the spell that you manage so well, Commonplace Potiphar G.?
Lovely Mehitabel Lee, Let me inquire of thee, Should I have riz to what Potiphar is, Hadst thou been mated to me?
This is the reason why Rustum Beg, Rajah of Kolazai, Drinketh the “simpkin” and brandy peg, Maketh the money to fly, Vexeth a Government, tender and kind, Also--but this is a detail--blind.
RUSTUM BEG of Kolazai--slightly backward native state Lusted for a C. S. I.,--so began to sanitate. Built a Jail and Hospital--nearly built a City drain-- Till his faithful subjects all thought their Ruler was insane.
Strange departures made he then--yea, Departments stranger still, Half a dozen Englishmen helped the Rajah with a will, Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of a future fine For the state of Kolazai, on a strictly Western line.
Rajah Rustum held his peace; lowered octroi dues a half; Organized a State Police; purified the Civil Staff; Settled cess and tax afresh in a very liberal way; Cut temptations of the flesh--also cut the Bukhshi's pay;
Roused his Secretariat to a fine Mahratta fury, By a Hookum hinting at supervision of dasturi; Turned the State of Kolazai very nearly upside-down; When the end of May was nigh, waited his achievement crown.
When the Birthday Honors came, Sad to state and sad to see, Stood against the Rajah's name nothing more than C. I. E.! *
Things were lively for a week in the State of Kolazai. Even now the people speak of that time regretfully.
How he disendowed the Jail--stopped at once the City drain; Turned to beauty fair and frail--got his senses back again; Doubled taxes, cesses, all; cleared away each new-built thana; Turned the two-lakh Hospital into a superb Zenana;
Heaped upon the Bukhshi Sahib wealth and honors manifold; Clad himself in Eastern garb--squeezed his people as of old.
Happy, happy Kolazai! Never more will Rustum Beg Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He prefers the “simpkin” peg.
Jack Barrett went to Quetta Because they told him to. He left his wife at Simla On three-fourths his monthly screw: Jack Barrett died at Quetta Ere the next month's pay he drew.
Jack Barrett went to Quetta. He didn't understand The reason of his transfer From the pleasant mountain-land: The season was September, And it killed him out of hand.
Jack Barrett went to Quetta, And there gave up the ghost, Attempting two men's duty In that very healthy post; And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him Five lively months at most.
Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta Enjoy profound repose; But I shouldn't be astonished If now his spirit knows The reason of his transfer From the Himalayan snows.
And, when the Last Great Bugle Call Adown the Hurnal throbs, When the last grim joke is entered In the big black Book of Jobs, And Quetta graveyards give again Their victims to the air, I shouldn't like to be the man Who sent Jack Barrett there.
Though tangled and twisted the course of true love This ditty explains, No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve If the Lover has brains.
Ere the steamer bore him Eastward, Sleary was engaged to marry An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he called “my little Carrie.”
Sleary's pay was very modest; Sleary was the other way. Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight poor rupees a day?
Long he pondered o'er the question in his scantly furnished quarters-- Then proposed to Minnie Boffkin, eldest of Judge Boffkin's daughters.
Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was not a catch, But the Boffkins knew that Minnie mightn't make another match.
So they recognised the business and, to feed and clothe the bride, Got him made a Something Something somewhere on the Bombay side.
Anyhow, the billet carried pay enough for him to marry-- As the artless Sleary put it:--“Just the thing for me and Carrie.”
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