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Full Online Book HomePoemsNothing To Eat - Mrs. Merdle Suggesteth that Dinner being finished, the Gentlement
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Nothing To Eat - Mrs. Merdle Suggesteth that Dinner being finished, the Gentlement Post by :Laurence_Baker Category :Poems Author :Horatio Alger Date :May 2012 Read :2236

Click below to download : Nothing To Eat - Mrs. Merdle Suggesteth that Dinner being finished, the Gentlement (Format : PDF)

Nothing To Eat - Mrs. Merdle Suggesteth that Dinner being finished, the Gentlement

will Smoke. In the meantime, she Discourseth.


"Now Merdle--now Colonel--I know you are waiting.
And thinking my talking to eating's a bar,
Still hoping, by tasting, my appetite sating,
Will give you the license to smoke a cigar.

(Illustration: "WILL GIVE YOU THE LICENSE TO SMOKE A CIGAR")

Well then, I've done now, and hope too you've dined,
As well as down town where you dine for a shilling,
At Taylor's, or Thompson's, or one of the kind,
Where mortals are flocking each day for their filling;
Or else at the Astor where bachelors quarter,
Where port holes for windows give light to the room,
Far out of the region of Eve's every daughter,
So high they are stuck up away toward the moon.

Though as for the 'stuck up' no walls built of brick,
Or granite, or marble, or dirty red sand,
Could stick up a man who himself's but a stick,
An inch above where he would naturally stand.

To witness the truth of this final assertion,
I call you to witness the sticks at the door,
Where they make it a daily, a 'manly' diversion,
To ogle each woman, and sometimes do more,
Who passes the hotel that's named by a saint,
Where boorish bad manners give room for complaint.

Where idlers and loafers, with gamblers a few,
Make up for the nonce the St. Nicholas crew.

The 'outside barbarians,' I freely confess,
Who ogle our faces and ogle our dress,
Who spit where we walk as dirty a puddle
As bipeds can make when their brains are 'a muddle,'
Do not prove the inside is as dirty as they are,
Or else the gods help all the ladies who stay there.

Why any prefer in a hotel to stay,
Instead of a house of their choosing to own,
Is just to avoid all the trouble, they say,
That servants to give us are certainly prone,
I'm sure if a tyranny more terrible prevails,
In Austria or other despotic domain,
My memory where most certainly fails,
That servants and milliners over us gain,
Just here in New York, and the more is the pity,
Where Wood is the Mogul that governs the city.

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"Impatient--oh yes--just the way with you men!I never have time to half finish my eatingEre Merdle is done; such a fidget is then,He'd starve me I think rather 'n miss of a meetingWhere brokers preside o'er the fate of the stocks,As Pales presided o'er shepherds and flocks.Now while you are smoking--what nonsense and folly--I'll go to my room.--don't say No, for I must--Put on a new dress, with assistance of Molly,And then with a little strong tea and a crust,My strength I may hope for a walk will be ableAs far as the gate, and a very short ride,To give me
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suffering with Dyspepsia.Some turkey? why yes--the least mite will suffice;A side bone and dressing and bit of the breast;The tip of the rump--that's it--and one o' the fli's--In spite of the doctor: my appetite's none of the best,And so I must pamper the delicate thing,And tickle a fancy that's very capriciousWith bits of a turkey, the breast or the wing,With beef very tender, and gravy delicious.Some beef now? I thank you, not any at present;I'll nibble a little at what I have got,And wish for a duck, or a grouse, or a pheasant,Though none of them come for a wish, in
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