  To those who never heard my Songs before, And those who have, and want to nevermore, This Rhapsody, with all its pithy phrases, Has passed the Censors with the highest praises. Released by favor of the Board's caprice, It takes its proper place—a masterpiece! Soft pedal, please! The Knockers are outclassed, And Genius finds its recompense at last! Whene'er I read about this war-time pelf It makes me sick: I can't contain myself! The profits on the die-stuffs sent to France Make Croesus' wealth a trifling circumstance; And what the Farmers get for mules and wheat Makes fortunes hitherto quite obsolete. In by-gone days the Bards were praised and pensioned Who now are at the Front—and rarely mentioned: And all these hardships they endure while men Who write big checks, thus scandalize the pen. The Writers should throw off their yokes and collars And drill their brains to cultivate the dollars. The talents they possess are strictly mental And can't be utilized for food and rental. Their thoughts are capital, but who'll invest In Sonnet Stock without some interest? Or who'd take stock in Poem Plants? Alack! He who invests expects the yellowback. But here I'm talking money: what a joke For one to thus discourse who's always broke! Since "money talks" we'll suffer it to speak,— "I am the thing that countless millions seek; Greed's inspiration, Evil's very root, The Nemesis of those in my pursuit. Kings pay me homage, pawn their crowns to me And, deathless, I enslave their progeny. Men famed for noble deeds, who court my smile, Ofttimes surrender probity to guile: Who, needy, follows my uncertain path, I may elude and favor him who hath,— For I have wings, and lightning speeds my flight,— Wealthy to-day, a pauper overnight! The Ticker tells the tale from day to day: Brings joy to some, to others dire dismay." This Work is copyrighted just to show To what low depths the Pirate Press will go. They borrow thunder from the Vulcan forge, Then draw the fire and put the smut on George. Each song or verse, it seems to me, should be Distinguished by originality If nothing else (the matter may be sloppy,— But that's no matter if there's ample copy) So that the Author's face could be unmasked And recognized without a question asked; Or, so identify Calliope By strident notes of high-toned quality; Or thus detect some Poet's "fist" and style By I. O. U.'s unhonored yet awhile. The Pirates thus would cease perforce their trade, And Bacon would not be confused with Ade. In all my songs I do the work myself, And draw no inspiration from the Shelf. Perhaps my lines would be more read, if cribbed, But George and I, you know, have never fibbed, And what is more, I think my lines are sweeter Than those of Dante, with infernal meter; And more heroic, and not half so sad As Homer's couplets in the Illiad; And far more musical and much prettier Than those by Tennyson or by Whittier. Each bar is known to me, its licensee, And ev'ry note has had my scrutiny: I also watch my pauses, moods and tenses, And have no words with fair amanuenses. If you could see my workshop (do not ask it!) You'd find more "carbons" in my paper-basket, More rough, unpolished diamonds there immured Than you, Dear Reader, ever have endured. I have no Jewish blood, not e'en a strain: That's what I lack! If ever born again I'd requisition Hebrew sire and dam, Something akin, methinks, to Abraham, And take these "jewels," doomed unseen to flash, Gloss o'er their flaws, and turn them into cash. Here's where I doff my bonnet to the Jew! Tho' sore oppressed they're still the Chosen Few: A few in numbers but a mighty host When reckoned by the things that count the most,— I mean achievements, won by toilsome stages In spite of persecutions thru the Ages. I see these Davids watching o'er their flocks In Palestine. (To-day they watch their stocks And clip the coupons from their bonds, you see, Just as they sheared the lambs in Galilee.) There milk and honey in abundance vied To keep the Simple Simons satisfied; But here to luxuries the Josephs cling, And milk the honey from most everything. Time was when you were treated with disdain But now the tune is quite a changed refrain, And Gentiles everywhere take special pains To pay respectful tribute to your brains! Behold your ancient hills and rugged rocks; Your fruitful valleys with their golden shocks Of Grain that, grouped around the stately dates, Seem to defy the threshing that awaits! Here olives ripen 'neath the summer skies And yield rich oil,—first Standard Oil supplies; 'Twas here the mighty Samson filled with awe The Philistines and flayed them with his jaw; (No man before, or since, thus courted fame, For woman holds these records in her name.) And here wise Solomon refused the vote In statecraft matters to the Petticoat; But when the Referendum was installed The wise old King's objection was Recalled. And then there's David caring for his sheep, And big Goliath (rocking him to sleep). There Japheth, Shem and Ham are; Ham tabooed By Moses in his Treatises on Food; And Jehu with his pair of chestnut colts Trotting the highway down like thunderbolts. If Jehu reined to-day he'd swap his stable |
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