Without a home, without a name,
This cat achieved posthumous fame;
Nine lives brought her no special glory,
But Death put her in deathless story.

THE MICROBE'S SERENADE

A SETTIN' HEN

A lovelorn microbe met by chance

When a hen is bound to set,

Seems as though 'tain't etiket At a swagger bacteroidal dance

Dowsin' her in water till A proud bacillian belle, and she

She's connected with a chill. Was first of the animalculæ.

Seems as though 'twas skursely right Of organism saccharine,

Givin' her a dreadful fright,
She was the protoplasmic queen.

Tyin' rags around her tail,
The microscopical pride and pet
Of the biological smartest set,

Poundin' on an old tin pail,

Chasin' her around the yard.
And so this infinitesimal swain
Evolved a pleading low refrain:

Seems as though 'twas kind of hard
Bein' kicked and slammed and shooed

'Cause she wants to raise a brood. “O lovely metamorphic germ,

I sh'd say it's gettin' gay What futile scientific term

Jest 'cause naturwants its way. Can well describe your many

While ago my neighbour, Penn, charms?

Started bustin' up a hen;
Come to these embryonic arms, Went to yank her off the nest;
Then hie away to my cellular home, Hen, though, made a peck, and jest
And be my little diatom !”

Grabbed his thumb-nail good and stout,
Almost yanked the darn thing out.

Penn he twitched away and then,
His epithelium burned with love,

Tried again to grab that hen. He swore by molecules above

But, by ginger! she had spunk, She'd be his own gregarious mate,

'Cause she took and nipped a hunk Or else he would disintegrate.

Big's a bean right out his palm, This amorous mite of a parasite

Swallered it, and cool and calm Pursued the germ both day and

H'isted up and yelled “Cah-dahnight,

Sounded like she said "Hoo-rah !" And 'neath her window often played

Wal, sir, when that hen done that, This Darwin-Huxley serenade

Penn he bowed, took off his hat, He'd warble to her every day

Spunk jest suits him, you can bet: This rhizopodical roundelay:

"Set,” says he, "gol darn ye, SET!"

HOLMAN F. DAY. “O most primordial type of spore,

Try this on your whatnot.
I never met your like before.
And though a microbe has no heart,

THE STORY OF ESAW WOOD From you, sweet germ, I'll never part.

Esaw Wood sawed wood. We'll sit beneath some fungus Esaw Wood would saw wood! growth

All the wood Esaw Wood saw Esaw Till dissolution claims us both!' Wood would saw. In other words, all

GEORGE ADE. the wood Esaw saw to saw Esaw

sought to saw. I like his Fables in Slang.

Oh, the wood Wood would saw! And