Part 3 (1/2)
Six times a table here he booked, Six times he sat and scann'd The list of dishes, badly cooked By the _chef's_ unskilful hand; And I never saw a man who looked So wistfully at the band.
He did not swear or tear his hair, But ordered wine galore, As though it were some vintage rare From an old Falernian store; With open mouth he slaked his drouth, And loudly called for more.
He was the type that waiters know, Who simply lives to feed, Who little cares what food they show If it be food indeed, Who, when his appet.i.te is low, Falls back upon his greed.
For each man eats his fav'rite meats, (Provided by his wife); Or cheese or chalk, or peas or pork, (For such, alas! is life!) The rich man eats them with a fork, The poor man with a knife.
VI.
THE DENTIST
What a dangerous trade is the dentist's!
With what perils he has to contend, As he plunges his paws In the gibbering jaws Of some trusting but terrified friend, With the risk that before he is ten minutes older His arms may be bitten off short at the shoulder!
He is born in the West, is the dentist, And he speaks with a delicate tw.a.n.g, When polite as a prince, He requests you to ”rinse,”
After gently removing a fang.
('Tis to save wear-and-tear to the mouth, one supposes, That dentists consistently talk through their noses.)
He is painfully shy, is the dentist; For he lives such a hand-to-mouth life.
When the s.e.x known as ”fair”
Comes and sits in his chair, He will call for his sister or wife, For a lady-companion or female relation,-- So strong is the instinct of self-preservation!
He's a talkative man, is the dentist; Though his patients are loth to reply.
With his fist in your mouth He may say North is South, And you cannot well give him the lie; For it's hard to converse on such themes as the weather, With jawbone and tongue fastened firmly together!
To a sensitive soul like the dentist You should always avoid talking ”shop.”
If he drops in to tea, You must certainly see That your wife doesn't ask him to ”stop!”
He is _facile princeps_, perhaps, of his calling; But jokes about _princip'ly forceps_ ARE galling!
There are people who say of the dentist That he isn't a gentleman quite.
Half the gents that we see Are no gentler than he, And but few are so sweetly polite; For of all the strange trades to which men are apprentic'd; The gentlest, I'm certain, is that of the dentist!
VII
THE MAN WHO KNOWS
How few of us contrive to s.h.i.+ne In ordinary conversation As brightly as this human mine Of universal information, Or give mankind the benefit Of such encyclopaedic wit.
How few of us can lightly touch On any topic one may mention With so much _savoir-faire_, or such Exasperating condescension; Or take so lively a delight In setting other people right.
Whatever you may do or dream, The Man Who Knows has dreamt or done it; If you propound some novel scheme, The Man Who Knows has long begun it; Should you evolve a repartee, ”I made that yesterday,” says he.
With what a supercilious air He listens to your newest story, As tho' your latest legend were Some chestnut long of beard and h.o.a.ry.