Puck — December 31, 1879 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

700 PUCK. THE BELATED MOSQUITO. FATE, ferocious, fearful, fiery, fell! O Hate! O harmful Haste! Oh, Ho! O Thunder! Why have ye left me thus to mourn, I wonder, Like a crushed periwinkle in his shell? Why hast thou left me, Fate, Like to Calypso, lone and desolate, Uncomforted, and taking worse and worse on— Or like some other mythologic person. Those gods and things Of whom old Homer sings Were always weeping, somehow. Yet I doubt If they'd as much as I to weep about, Just let me make my sad position clear, And claim from you a sympathizing tear, If you've one handy. Well, no matter, then, I'll try to get along without it. When ‘This brilliant morning dawned—when upon high Phoebus—or—what’s his name ?—illumes the sky, When thingumy clouds Aurora’s fingers kiss, I was upon the edge of married bliss. I was engaged to—well, let it suffice ‘To say, to something rather extra nice In the way of nice young women. Yes, and now ‘That's lost forever. You shall find out how. I'll paint her, if I'm not too much enraged to— ‘This is the sort of girl I was engaged to: Her wealth of hair fell golden o'er an eye Whose azure made the noonday heavens shy; Plump was her figure, rounded—yet petite; Small was her hand; ‘And I suppose—that is—I understand— I—well, I guess, that’s all— Her feet Were also small. And this one thing I know, As Southerners say ‘‘ fo’ sho’—" Her parent stern Is comfortably “fixed.” Perchance this thought was mixed With all the love that in my bosom used to burn, And now she’s gone!— But, judging from your looks, 'twere best that I get on, "was but an hour ago One little mosqui/o Blasted to all eternity my life And robbed me of my sweet prospective wife. 'Twas in her father's house About the time when day its glim doth dowse. At that dear twilight hour we talked apart. I had told John, 1 may remark, just here, He needn't light the chandelier. So off that servitor discreetly went, And left us to a little argument. She said 1 oughtn’t; and I said I ought, You needn't mind the subject of debate. I did not get the boon I so besought— For then that winter's 'squito’s buzz clate Smote my tympanum, and I heard him come Straight for me with his high monotonous hum, “My love,” I said, as that mosquito lit Upon my nose: “but grant my fervent prayer!” Here the-mogquito waked the ambient air, And whisked around upon my ear to sit. I reached out for it with impetuous hand— Beside me stood my angel, smiling bland— And while She smiled, that fatal slap Took her right on the smile Ker-flap! Her wails aroused her father, and he came, And laid the blame Square upon me, He couldn't see My 'squito story quite In the same light As 1. ‘The which, perchance, is why I clapped my hat upon my head And fied, While yet my tortured ear Was doomed that fiend mosquito’s buzz to hear. Also I heard the door behind me slam, And here I am. And now I'm here it may be worth my while Just to remove that tile: And—hello!—my mosquito! Well, as I'm A sinner, he has been there all this time, Imprisoned in my hat. Ah, fatal fly! Thou who didst knock my prospects into pi, For wanton sport, I have thee, 'squito, where the hair is short. Prepare to render up thy spirit of ill! ~ No prayers, no suppliance can shaké my will. Vengeance is mine! And mind you, 'squito vile, You're going off in no theatric style— No glorious martyrdom of flood cr fire— Between my finger and thumb shall you expire. Fit fate for one who made me butt of scorn To a girl unworthy of the heart she 's torn, She was unworthy, now I come to think— And—ah! my captive friend, thou tak’st a drink? While execution stares thee in the face Thou takest heart of grace. . To fill thy hungry vacuum from my veins— Like him whose fame the nursery tale retains— The giant who said, ‘‘ Fee fo fum!"— Thou battenest on my thumb, Batten away! For ere this hour be fled, Thou shalt be, like my crushed affection, dead. Dead? Yes! For shall I weep the wail of woe For any woman with a head of tow? Can I not school my bosom to resign a Pair of faint eyes like willow-pattern china? *Tis not her loss that I am grieving at— Her purse alone redeemed her personal fat. And he who says she is petite or plump, he Prevaricates, The girl was simply dumpy. Nay, marvel not if ¢e’en my free heart bounds Lighter for loss of nigh two hundred pounds. But one thing I regret—and naught I reck else— ‘The golden clink of her stern parent’s shekels! And even of that wealth I stooped to covet-— Upon my soul! I wasn’t guite sure of it. Uncertain are white men and mining shares— You never can tell about these millionaires, And now I think, Ring of his wretched pride, ‘The eagerness for the match was on Ais side. Save in this late small—incident—I mistrust ‘That her papa’s what vulgar folk call “ bust.” Ah! I'm well out of it. I’m free once more! A gay and lightsome, loveless bachelor! Tralala! ‘Tralalalalaloo! Don’t you wish you were, too? And all my liberty has chanced to come From you, you little wretch upon my thumb! It were but sheer ingratitude in me to Deprive you of existence, O mosquito! Go! though a wretched world your good deeds spreading— Saviog young men upon the verge of wedding. Go, take my blessing with you—that you're free to— O Blest Mosquito! Dada! 1 wish you joy, Old boy! “‘Cueese 1T! Here comes Caprain WILtIAMs!” comicbooks.com