One winter--I am shaky in my dates--
Came two starving minstrels to his gates,
Oh, Allah be obeyed,
How infernally they played!
I remember that they called themselves the "Oiiaits."
Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage,
I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age,
Photographically lined
On the tablet of my mind,
When a yesterday has faded from its page!
Alas! Prince Agib went and asked them in!
Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scents, and tin.
And when (as snobs would say)
They "put it all away,"
He requested them to tune up and begin.
Though its icy horror chill you to the core,
I will tell you what I never told before,
The consequences true
Of that awful interview,
_For I listened at the key-hole in the door_!
They played him a sonata--let me see!
"_Medulla oblongata_"--key of G.
Then they began to sing
That extremely lovely thing,
"Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp."
He gave them money, more than they could count,
Scent, from a most ingenious little fount,
More beer, in little kegs,
Many dozen hard-boiled eggs,
And goodies to a fabulous amount.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114