_Translated from the Arabic._
Far off in the waste of desert sand,
The Jim-jam rules in the Jou-jou land:
He sits on a throne of red-hot rocks,
And moccasin snakes are his curling locks;
And the Jou-jous have the conniption fits
In the far-off land where the Jim-jam sits--
If things are nowadays as things were then.
Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen!
The country's so dry in Jou-jou land
You could wet it down with Sahara sand,
And over its boundaries the air
Is hotter than 'tis--no matter where:
A camel drops down completely tanned
When he crosses the line into Jou-jou land--
If things are nowadays as things were then.
Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen!
A traveller once got stuck in the sand
On the fiery edge of Jou-jou land;
The Jou-jous they confiscated him,
And the Jim-jam tore him limb from limb;
But, dying, he said: "If eaten I am,
I'll disagree with this Dam-jim-jam!
He'll think his stomach's a Hoodoo's den!"
Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen!
Then the Jim-jam felt so bad inside,
It just about humbled his royal pride.
He decided to physic himself with sand,
And throw up his job in the Jou-jou land.
He descended his throne of red-hot rocks,
And hired a barber to cut his locks:
The barber died of the got-'em-again,
Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen!
And now let every good Mussulman
Get all the good from this tale he can.
If you wander off on a Jamboree,
Across the stretch of the desert sea,
Look out that right at the height of your booze
You don't get caught by the Jou-jou-jous!
You may, for the Jim-jam's at it again.
Allah il Allah! Oo-aye! Amen!
ALARIC BERTRAND START.
_Tuftonian_.
~Love up to Date.~
I know she loves me, though with scorn
She treats my adoration;
I know she loves me, though my suit
She checks with strong negation.
And this I know, with proof as sure
As though her lips had said it:
Her heart I have before my eyes,
And there I've plainly read it.
For cathode rays have stolen through
This maiden so deceiving;
And thus her heart I've photographed,
And seeing is believing.
S. L. HOWARD.
_The Tech._
~Miss Milly O'Naire.~
She is not young and fair,
Nor has she golden hair,
Nor a dimple in each cheek,
If that is what you seek;
Hers is a gift more rare,
Miss Milly O'Naire.
She has not laughing eyes,
Blue as the summer skies,
Nor lips of cherry red,
On kisses to be fed;
No, it's not for these I care,
Miss Milly O'Naire.
She is not wondrous wise,
Seeks not for learning's prize.
'Tis true she knows no Greek,
And her English grammar's weak,
But why should I despair,
Miss Milly O'Naire.
So woo and win her I will,
For there's my tailor's bill,
And creditors by the score;
But they'll trouble me no more,
For she has a million to spare,
Miss Millionaire.
WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER.
_The Badger._
~A Shy Little Maid.~
A love-lorn lad wooed a coy maid once,
All of a summer's day he plead;
Oft he spoke of the bonds of love--the dunce!
And she shyly shook her head.
When from his heart hope had almost fled,
He spoke of bonds he had in town.
Still the shy little maiden shook her head--
But she shook it _up and down_.
_Trinity Tablet_.
~My Mistake.~
I met her on a Pullman car,
In section number nine;
Each eye shone like a morning star,
With radiance divine.
So when I placed my bags and traps
In section number ten,
She looked so tempting 'mid her wraps
I sought her face again.
She glanced at me with roguish pose,
Yet innocent of guile,
Then colored like a blushing rose,
And tried to hide a smile;
The sweet confusion but enhanced
Her dainty tint of pink,
And quite by accident she chanced
The nearest eye to wink.
When she refused my proffered card
With scorn and proud disdain,
I tried my best, and pleaded hard
My error to explain.
She listened to my mumblings crude,
Then tossed her nose on high;
"I think," she said, "you'd wink, if you'd
A cinder in your eye."
E. P. G.
_The Tech._
~Sic Semper.~
I sent her a spoon,
She is married to-day;
The wedding's at noon.
I sent her a spoon--
And she loved me in June!
But that's always their way.
I sent her a spoon,
She is married to-day.
WILL L. GRAVES.
_Makio_.
~A Modern Instance.~
Her little hand in his he took,
All hot and quivering it was;
And noted how her eyes did look
Bright as a lucent sapphire does.
Within her dainty little wrist
Her pulse throbbed quick, as if her heart
Beat love's glad summons to be kissed,
Heart's first reveille since life's start,
Her oval cheeks were flushed with rose;
Her red lips parted for such breath
As hot from tropic spice lands blows;
Enough 'twas to have warmed old Death!
He gazed at her; he spoke--and she
Stuck out at him a small tongue's tip:
The family doctor old was he,
And she--he said she had _la grippe_.
_Red and Blue_.
~The Echo from the 17th.~
Who builds de railroads and canals,
But furriners?
Who helps across de street de gals,
But furriners?
Who in de caucus has der say,
Who does de votin' 'lection day,
And who discovered U.S.A.,
But furriners?
FRANK TOURTELLOT EASTON.
_Brunonian_.
~Ballade of Laura's Fan.~
It was never imported from France
With a dainty Parisian frou-frou,
Nor upon it do bull-fighters prance,
As only the Spaniards can do.
It was stencilled by no one knows who,
Yet _I'd_ give all my coupons and rents
For that one precious keepsake from you--
The fan that cost $0.63.
On the staircase we sat out a dance,
Or twenty, for all that I knew;
At times on the bliss of my trance
The breath of the roses stole through.
But redder than rose-petals grew
Your cheeks, at my swift compliments;
So the softest of breezes it blew--
The fan that cost $0.63.
It all seemed like a fairy romance,
Below us the laughter and mu-
Sic, while now and again, such a glance
As is given on earth but to few
From the depths of your eyes, fond and true,
Set me dreaming of all their contents,
Till I woke,--something hid them, from view,--
The fan that cost $0.63!