Ellis Parker Butler: Verses about Food

Whene’er I feed the barnyard folk
My gentle soul is vexed;
My sensibilities are torn
And I am sore perplexed.

The rooster so politely stands
While waiting for his food,
But when I feed him, what a change!
He then is rough and rude.

He crowds his gentle wives aside
Or pecks them on the head;
Sometimes I think it would be best
If he were never fed.

And so I often stand for hours
Deciding which is right—
To impolitely have enough,
Or starve and be polite.

The Whale is found in seas and oceans,
Indulging there in fishlike motions,
But Science shows that Whales are mammals,
Like Jersey cows, and goats, and camels.

When undisturbed, the Whale will browse
Like camels, goats, and Jersey cows,
On food that satisfies its tongue,
Thus making milk to feed its young.

Asking no costly hay and oats,
Like camels, Jersey cows, and goats,
The Whale, prolific milk producer,
Should be our cheapest lactic juicer.

Our milk should all come from the sea,
But who, I ask, would want to be—
And here the proposition fails—
The milkmaid to a herd of Whales?

Upon Bottle Miche the autre day
While yet the nuit was early,
Je met a homme whose barbe was grey,
Whose cheveaux long and curly.

'Je am a poete, sir,' dit he,
'Je live where tres grande want teems—
I’m faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me
Un franc or cinquatite centimes.'

I donne him vingt big copper sous
But dit, 'You moderne rhymers
The sacre poet name abuse—
Les poets were old timers.'

'Je know! I know!' he wept, contrite;
'The bards no more suis mighty:
Ils rise no more in eleve flight,
Though some are beaucoup flighty.

'Vous wonder why Je weep this way,
Pour quoi these tears and blubbers?
It is mon fault les bards today
Helas! suis mere earth-grubbers.

'There was a time when tout might see
My grande flights dans the saddle;
Crowned rois, indeed, applauded me
Le Pegasus astraddle.

'Le winged horse avec acclaim
Was voted mon possession;
Je rode him tous les jours to fame;
Je led the whole procession.

'Then arrivee the Prussian war—
The siege—the sacre famine—
Then some had but a crust encore,
We mange the last least ham-an’

'Helas! Mon noble winged steed
Went oft avec no dinner;
On epics il refusee feed
And maigre grew, and thinner!

'Tout food was gone, and dans the street
Each homme sought crusts to sate him—
Joyeux were those with horse’s meat,
And Pegasus! Je ate him!'

My anger then Je could not hide—
To parler scarcely able
'Oh! curses dans you, sir!' Je cried;
'Vous human livery stable!'

He fled! But vous who read this know
Why mon pauvre verse is beaten
By that of cinquante years ago
‘Vant Pegasus fut eaten!

Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; III: On Laziness And Its Resultant Ills
There was a man in New York City
(His name was George Adolphus Knight)
So soft of heart he wept with pity
To see our language and its plight.

He mourned to see it sorely goaded
With silent letters left and right;
These from his own name he unloaded
And wrote it Georg Adolfus Nit.

Six other men in that same city
Who longed to see a Spelling Heaven
Formed of themselves a strong committee
And asked Georg Nit to make it seven.

He joined the other six with pleasure,
Proud such important men to know,
Agreeing that their first great measure
Should be to shorten the word though.

But G. Adolfus Nit was lazy;
He dilly-dallied every day;
His life was dreamy, slow and hazy,
And indolent in every way.

On Monday morn at nine precisely
The six reformers (Nit not there)
Prepared to simplify though nicely,
And each was eager for his share.

Smith bit the h off short and ate it;
Griggs from the thoug chewed off the g;
Brown snapped off u to masticate it,
And tho alone was left for three.

Delancy’s teeth broke o off quickly;
From th Billings took his t,
And then the h, albeit prickly,
Was shortly swallowed by McGee.

This done, the six lay back in plenty,
Well fed, they picked their teeth and smiled,
And lazy Nit, about 10:20,
Strolled in, as careless as a child.

'Well, boys,' he said, 'where’s the collation?
I’m hungry, let us eat some though.'
'All gone!' they said, and then Starvation,
(Who is not lazy) laid Nit low.

Nit trembled, gasped, and, as the phrase is,
Cashed in his checks, gave up his breath,
And turned his toes up to the daisies—
His laziness had caused his death!

Warning

Spelling reformers should make haste.
If each reformer wants a taste.