Would I were young enough, to go to school,
Or could but pitch upon some golden rule
For knowing what I am, and what to do,
When to the public gaze I am on view.
I'm Colonel, Admiral, and President,
A theatre manager, and resident
Director of the Opera House, and mine
Are Erie and the Boston steamboat line.
Of merchant, banker, broker, every shade
Am I; in fact, a Jack of every trade.
More varied than the hues of the Chameleon;
Far heavier than Ossa piled on Pelion
Are all my duties! Really it's confusing,
At times, to a degree that's quite amusing.
When am I this, when that, when which, when what?
And am I always FISK, or am I not?
Thus, constantly I get into a fix,
And one thing with another sadly mix;
Many a time absurd mistakes I've made
In giving orders. When I'm on Parade,
And ought to say, "Fours Right," by Jove! I'm certain
To holloa out, "Come, hurry up that curtain!"
Going to Providence the other night,
I ordered all the hands, "Dress to the Right!"
I saw my error, and called out again,
"Hold on! I meant to say, The Ladies' Chain."
At Matinée the other afternoon,
When all the violins seemed well in tune,
I sang out to the Bell Boy, "What's the hitch?
If the Express is due, you'd better switch!"
My order seemed the boy to overwhelm--
"Lubber!" I cried, "why don't you port your helm?"
I made a speech the other night at mess,
And what my toast was, nobody will guess;
It should have been, "The Union"--'twas, "Be cheery,
Boys! the toast we have to drink is--Erie."
The boys laughed loudly, being the right, sort,
And said, "Why, Admiral! you're hard a _port_."
One time, when GOULD and I were on the cars,
I thought th' officials of the train were tars;
Told them to "Coil that rope and clean the scuppers,
And then go down below and get your suppers."
This must be changed, or my good name will suffer,
And folks will say, JIM FISK is but a duffer.
To feel myself a fool and lose my head,
Too, takes the gilding off the gingerbread;
And makes me ask myself the reason why
On earth I have so many fish to fry?
The fact is, what I touch must have a risk
Of failure, or it wouldn't suit JIM FISK,
I'll conquer this, too--keep a secretary
To help me out when I'm in a quandary.
I will not budge! My banner is unfurled,
Proclaiming FISK the Problem of the world.
* * * * *
Query for Lawyers.
If a man throws a huge stone at his wife's head, would he escape
punishment on the plea that he only meant to Rock her to sleep?
* * * * *
A Spring Blossom.
Blossom Rock, in San Francisco Harbor, has just been blown up
with gunpowder. Of course Blossom Rock went "up as a Flower".
* * * * *
Justice in the New Territory.
Whatever lack of law there may be in Alaska, PUNCHINELLO is
quite sure that there is Just-ice enough in that domain to satisfy all
demands.
* * * * *
A Rumor.
It is rumored that the Fenian Organization have offered Mr. FECHTER
the position of Head Centre, in recognition of the merciless manner
in which he mangles the Queen's English.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE FINANCIAL INQUISITION.
_Grand Inquisitor,_ U. S. GRANT.
_Associate Inquisitors,_ G. S. BOUTWELL, F.E. SPINNER,
JOHN SHERMAN. _Executioner,_ C. DELANO.
ASSOCIATE SHERMAN. "WELL, UNCLE SAM DOES STAND A GOOD DEAL
OF PRESSURE. EXECUTIONER, KEEP PILING THE WEIGHTS ON."]
* * * * *