Ballads of a Bohemian | Page 8

a cheer, for there in his ear -- Gosh ding me! -- a tiny flea.
At last, at last! Oh, I clutched it fast, and I gazed on it with pride; And I thrust it into a biscuit-tin, and I shut it safe inside; With a lid of glass for the light to pass, and space to leap and play; Oh, it kept alive; yea, seemed to thrive, as I watched it night and day. And I used to sit and sing to it, and I shielded it from harm, And many a hearty feed it had on the heft of my hairy arm.?For you'll never know in that land of snow how lonesome a man can feel; So I made a fuss of the little cuss, and I christened it "Lucille". But the longest winter has its end, and the ice went out to sea, And I saw one day a ship in the bay, and there was the ~Nancy Lee~. So a boat was lowered and I went aboard, and they opened wide their eyes -- Yes, they gave a cheer when the truth was clear,?and they saw my precious prize.?And then it was all like a giddy dream; but to cut my story short, We sailed away on the fifth of May to the foreign Prince's court; To a palmy land and a palace grand, and the little Prince was there, And a fat Princess in a satin dress with a crown of gold on her hair. And they showed me into a shiny room, just him and her and me, And the Prince he was pleased and friendly-like,?and he calls for drinks for three.?And I shows them my battered biscuit-tin, and I makes my modest spiel, And they laughed, they did, when I opened the lid,?and out there popped Lucille.
Oh, the Prince was glad, I could soon see that, and the Princess she was too; And Lucille waltzed round on the tablecloth as she often used to do. And the Prince pulled out a purse of gold, and he put it in my hand; And he says: "It was worth all that, I'm told, to stay in that nasty land." And then he turned with a sudden cry, and he clutched at his royal beard; And the Princess screamed, and well she might -- for Lucille had disappeared.
"She must be here," said his Noble Nibbs, so we hunted all around; Oh, we searched that place, but never a trace of the little beast we found. So I shook my head, and I glumly said: "Gol darn the saucy cuss! It's mighty queer, but she isn't here; so . . . she must be on one of us. You'll pardon me if I make so free, but -- there's just one thing to do: If you'll kindly go for a half a mo' I'll search me garments through." Then all alone on the shiny throne I stripped from head to heel; In vain, in vain; it was very plain that I hadn't got Lucille. So I garbed again, and I told the Prince, and he scratched his august head; "I suppose if she hasn't selected you, it must be me," he said. So ~he~ retired; but he soon came back, and his features showed distress: "Oh, it isn't you and it isn't me." . . . Then we looked at the Princess. So ~she~ retired; and we heard a scream, and she opened wide the door; And her fingers twain were pinched to pain, but a radiant smile she wore: "It's here," she cries, "our precious prize.?Oh, I found it right away. . . ."?Then I ran to her with a shout of joy, but I choked with a wild dismay. I clutched the back of the golden throne, and the room began to reel . . . What she held to me was, ah yes! a flea, but . . . ~it wasn't my Lucille~.
After all, I did not celebrate. I sat on the terrace of the Cafe Napolitain on the Grand Boulevard, half hypnotized by the passing crowd. And as I sat I fell into conversation with a god-like stranger who sipped some golden ambrosia. He told me he was an actor and introduced me to his beverage, which he called a "Suze-Anni". He soon left me, but the effect of the golden liquid remained, and there came over me a desire to write. ~C'e/tait plus fort que moi.~ So instead of going to the Folies Berge\re I spent all evening in the Omnium Bar near the Bourse, and wrote the following:
On the Boulevard
Oh, it's pleasant sitting here,?Seeing all the people pass;?You beside your ~bock~ of beer,?I behind my ~demi-tasse~.?Chatting of no matter what.?You the Mummer, I the Bard;?Oh, it's jolly, is it not? --?Sitting on