POEMS OF JAMES RYDER RANDALL
I swore the jewel of Glamschid
Than you less excellency hid;
You thought so too—you know you did.
And yet you made a famous fool
Of one a lastrum since from school;
I’m on the penitential stool.
With groan and grimace acrimonious,
I vote all flirting most erroneous,
And bivouac with Saint Antonius,
Old Nick shall thump me black and blue,
And with his horned head punch me through,
Ere I succumb to jays like you.
I’ll make the calaboose my bunk,
I’ll delve in some monastic trunk;
’Twere highly proper to get drunk!
I’ll sing Am Rhein in the Casino—
Become obstreperous with Blineau;
In divers ways I’ll breeze my spleen, oh!
Lycanthropy to me is placid;
I’ll out-strut e’en Haroun Alraschid—
Read Werter, too, for prussic acid.
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