"Then why, O, Cumberbunce," I cried,
"Did you come walking at my side
And ask me if you, please, might sing,
When you could not warble anything?"
"I did not ask permission, sir,
I really did not, I aver.
You, sir, misunderstood me, quite.
I did not ask you if I _might_.
Had you correctly understood,
You'd know I asked you if I _could_.
So, as I cannot sing a song,
Your answer, it is plain, was wrong.
The fact I could not sing I knew,
But wanted your opinion, too."
A voice came softly o'er the lea.
"Farewell! my mate is calling me!"
I saw the creature disappear,
Its voice, in parting, smote my ear--
"I thought all people understood
The difference 'twixt 'might' and 'could'!"
_Paul West_.
THE AHKOND OF SWAT
Who, or why, or which, or _what_,
Is the Ahkond of Swat?
Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or sofa or chair,
or Squat,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,
or Hot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk,
or Trot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Does he wear a turban, a fez or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed or a mat,
or a Cot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his t's and finish his i's
with a Dot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Can he write a letter concisely clear,
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
or Blot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
or Plot,
At the Ahkond of Swat?
If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
or Shot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Do his people prig in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
Garotte?
Oh, the Ahkond of Swat?
Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion
a Jot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem,
or What,
For the Ahkond of Swat?
At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
or a Lot,
For the Ahkond of Swat?
Does he live on turnips, tea or tripe,
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe
or a Dot,
The Ahkond of Swat?
Does he like to lie on his back in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
Shalott.
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