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Title: A Wail
Author: Eugene Field [
More Titles by Field]
My name is Col. Johncey New,
And by a hoosier's grace
I have congenial work to do
At 12 St. Helen's place.
I was as happy as a clam
A-floating with the tide,
Till one day came a cablegram
To me from t'other side.
It was a Macedonian cry
From Benjy o'er the sea;
"Come hither, Johncey, instantly,
And whoop things up for me!"
I could not turn a callous ear
Unto that piteous cry;
I packed my grip, and for the pier
Directly started I.
Alas! things are not half so fair
As four short years ago--
The clouds are gathering everywhere
And boisterous breezes blow;
My wilted whiskers indicate
The depth of my disgrace--
Would I were back, enthroned in state,
At 12 St. Helen's place!
The saddest words, as I'll allow,
That drop from tongue or pen,
Are these sad words I utter now:
"They can't, shan't, won't have Ben!"
So, with my whiskers in my hands,
My journey I'll retrace,
To wreak revenge on foreign lands
At 12 St. Helen's place.
[The end]
Eugene Field's poem: Wail
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