She's crined awa' to bane and skin,
But that, it seems, is naught to me;
She's like to live-although she's in
The last stage o' tenuity.
She munches wi' her wizened gums,
An' stumps about on legs o' thrums;
But comes, as sure as Christmas comes,
To ca' for her annuity.
She jokes her joke, an' cracks her crack,
As spunkie as a growin' flea-
An' there she sits upon my back,
A livin' perpetuity.
She hurkles by her ingle side,
An' toasts an' toasts her wrunkled hide-
Lord kens how lang she yet may bide
To ca' for her annuity.
I read the tables drawn wi' care
For an insurance company;
Her chance o' life was stated there,
Wi' perfect perspicuity.
But tables here or tables there,
She's lived ten years beyond her share,
An's like to live a dizzen mair,
To ca' for her annuity.
I got the loun that drew the deed-
We spelled it o'er right carefully;-
In vain he yerked his souple head,
To find an ambiguity:
It's dated-tested-a' complete-
The proper stamp-nae word delete---
And diligence, as on decreet,
May pass for her annuity.
Last Yule she had a fearfu' hoast,-
I thought a kink might set me free;
I led her out, 'mang snaw and frost,
Wi' constant assiduity.
But deil ma' care-the blast gaed by,
And missed the auld anatomy-
It just cost me a tooth, forbye
Discharging her annuity.
I thought that grief might gar her quitHer only son was lost at sea
But aff her wits behoved to flit,
An' leave her in fatuity!
She threeps, an' threeps, he's livin' yet,
For a' the tellin' she can get;
But catch the doited runt forget
To ca' for her annuity!
If there's a sough o' cholera,
Or typhus,-wha sae gleg as she? She buys up baths, an' drugs, an' a', In siccan superfluity!
She doesna need-she's fever proof
The pest gaed owre her very
She tauld me sae--an' then her loof
Held out for her annuity.
Ae day she fell, her arm she brak-
A compound fracture as could be-
Nae leech the cure wad undertak,
Whate'er was the gratuity.
It's cured! She handles 't like a flail
It does as weel in bits as hale
But I'm a broken man mysel
Wi' her and her annuity.
Her broozled flesh and broken banes
Are weel as flesh and banes can be; She beats the tades that live in stanes, An' fatten in vacuity!
They die when they're exposed to air,
They canna thole the atmosphere--
But her! expose her onywhere,
She lives for her annuity.
If mortal means could nick her thread,
Sma' crime it wad appear to me;
Ca' t murder-or ca't homicide-
I'd justify 't-an' do it tae.
But how to fell a withered wife
That's carved out o' the tree of life-
The timmer limmer dares the knife'
To settle her annuity.
I'd try a shot-but whar's the mark?
Her vital parts are hid frae me;
Her backbone wanders through her sark
In an unkenned corkscrewity.
She's palsified, an' shakes her head
Sae fast about, ye scarce can see 't;
It's past the power o' steel or lead
To settle her annuity.
She might be drowned; but go she'll not
Within a mile o' loch or sea;
Or hanged-if cord could grip a throat
O' siccan exiguity.
It's fitter far to hang the rope
It draws out like a telescope;
'Twad tak' a dreadfu' length o' drop
To settle her annuity.
Will poison do 't? It has been tried,
But, be't in hash or fricassee,
That's just the dish she can't abide,
Whatever kind o' goût it hae.
It's needless to assail her doubts,—
She gangs by instinct, like the brutes,-
An' only eats an' drinks what suits
Hersel an' her annuity.
The Bible says the age o' man
Threescore and ten, perchance, may be; She's ninety-four. Let them wha can, Explain the incongruity.
She should hae lived afore the flood-
She's come o' patriarchal blood,
She's some auld Pagan, mummified
Alive for her annuity.
She's been embalmed inside and oot-
She's sauted to the last degree—
There's pickle in her very snoot
Sae caper-like an' cruety.
Lot's wife was fresh compared to her-
They've kyanized the useless knir,-
She canna decompose-nae mair
Than her accursed annuity.
The water-drap wears out the rock,
As this eternal jaud wears me;
I could withstand the single shock,
But not the continuity.
It's pay me here, an' pay me there,
An' pay me, pay me, evermair-
I'll gang demented wi' despair-
I'm charged for her annuity!
George Outram [1805-1856]
THE SMACK IN SCHOOL
A DISTRICT School, not far away,
Mid Berkshire's hills, one winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of threescore mingled girls and boys;
Some few upon their tasks intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent.
The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book;
When suddenly, behind his back,
Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack,
As 'twere a battery of bliss
Let off in one tremendous kiss!
"What's that?" the startled master cries;
"That, thir," a little imp replies,
"The Pope He Leads a Happy Life" 2069
"Wath William Willith, if you pleathe,
I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe!"
With frown to make a statue thrill,
The master thundered, "Hither, Will!"
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track,
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to the awful presence came,-
A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-natured fun.
With smile suppressed, and birch upraised,
The threatener faltered,—“I'm amazed
That you, my biggest pupil, should
Be guilty of an act so rude!
Before the whole set school to boot-
What evil genius put you to't?"
""Twas she herself, sir," sobbed the lad,
"I did not mean to be so bad;
But when Susannah shook her curls,
And whispered, I was 'fraid of girls
And dursn't kiss a baby's doll,
I couldn't stand it, sir, at all,
But up and kissed her on the spot!
I know-boo-hoo-I ought to not.
But, somehow, from her looks-boo-hoo-
I thought she kind o' wished me to!"
William Pitt Palmer [1805-1884]
"THE POPE HE LEADS A HAPPY LIFE"
From "Harry Lorrequer "
THE Pope he leads a happy life,
He fears not married care nor strife,
He drinks the best of Rhenish wine,—
I would the Pope's gay lot were mine.
But yet all happy's not his life,
He has no maid, nor blooming wife;
Nor child has he to raise his hope-
I would not wish to be the Pope.
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