The Lazy Minstrel. Ashby-Sterry Joseph

Чтение книги онлайн.

      A PRETTY picture is it not,

      Beneath the awning of the yacht?

      A beauty of Sixteen,

      She wears a trim tarpaulin hat,

      So now you know the reason that

      I call her Tarpauline.

      A taut serge dress of Navy blue,

      A boatswain's silver whistle, too,

      She wears when she's afloat;

      An open collar, and I wot,

      A veritable sailor's knot

      Around her pretty throat.

      She has a glance that pleads and kills;

      And 'mid her shy and snowy frills

      A little foot appears;

      She has the softest sunny locks,

      The compass she knows how to box,

      And, when it's needful – ears!

      The smartest little sailor-girl,

      Who'll steer or "bear a hand" or furl,

      And I am told she oft

      Quite longs to reef her petticoats,

      And gleefully to "girl the boats,"

      Or glibly go aloft!

      But now how lazily she lies!

      And droops those tender trustful eyes

      Unutterably sweet!

      While snugly 'neath the bulwark curled,

      Forgetting all about the world,

      The World is at her feet!

      With tiny, dimpled, sunburnt hand,

      She pats the solemn Newfoundland

      Who crouches at her side.

      She's thinking – not of me nor you,

      When smiling as she listens to

      The lapping of the tide.

      O, were I pressed, aboard that ship,

      How joyfully I'd take a trip,

      For change of air and scene!

      I'd soon pack up a carpet-bag,

      And gladly sail beneath the flag,

      Of bonny Tarpauline!

      A SWEET, short-skirted, pouting pet,

      A winsome, laughing, glad, girlette;

      She's ten-and-thoughtless, and as yet,

      By falsity unsmitten!

      A merry young misogynist,

      Few boyish games can she resist —

      The Kitten!

      She hates a doll and girlish toys,

      She's fond of whips, and dogs, and boys,

      For, truth to tell, she finds no joys

      In crewel-work or tatting:

      But see how smiling is her face,

      Indeed, a pretty gleeful Grace —

      When batting!

      She bowls with marvellous success,

      And keeps her wicket, I confess —

      Despite her graceful girlish dress —

      As well as any Briton!

      She's saucy, silly, and self-willed,

      The smartest longstop ever frilled —

      The Kitten!

      She's erudite in "wides" and "byes,"

      And I will venture to surmise,

      She'll vanquish any boy her size

      At games of single-wicket!

      And yet, no doubt, she's good as gold,

      For I'll go bail she's only bold —

      At cricket!

      But like her namesake, clad in fur,

      No mischief comes amiss to her;

      To me it seems it should occur,

      To leave her faults unwritten.

      She'll make a score, I'm sure of that,

      And loves to carry out her bat —

      The Kitten!

      DEAR ROSE,

      I never shall forget —

      That is, I always shall remember —

      The very brightest day, my pet,

      We had throughout this dull November!

      I went last Monday, you must know,

      With Tina, Mrs. S., and Clarry,

      To СКАЧАТЬ