Logic

'Tis strange, but true, that a common cat
Has got ten tails, — just think of that!

Don't see it, eh? The fact is plain:
To prove it so I rise t'explain.

We say a cat has but one tail:
Behold how logic lifts the veil!

No cat has nine tails: don't you see
One cat has one tail more than she ?

Now add the one tail to the nine,
You'll find a full ten-tailed feline.

As Holmes has said, in his "One-Horse Shay,"
Logic is logic; that's all I say.

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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He Took a Header

They met in a field, 'mid th» blooming heather; A punster, a ram and an old bell-wether.
No cry of alarm did the young man utter,
He simply murmured : "I'll pass the butter."
"And I'll butt the passer, observed the ram, "I ain't any Mary's little lamb."
" 'That tired feeling' I'll o'er him bring, So often caused by 'a forward spring.'
"I'll give him 'a header' he will not like." And he "cast sheep's eyes" at the youth and bike.
(W-h-i-s-h-! r-r-r-!-!-!)
Sheep, bike and punster lay mingled together; The youth was "a little under the wether."

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Tell-Tale Mirror

She was sitting in the office of her husband's
down town store, And waiting for his coming, as she oft had done
before, "When in a handglass on his desk,—Jerusha! she
was mad— She saw these lines reflected, from a brand-new
blotting pad:
This -was the way the letter ran, and ended much like this
Should any reader wish to know what made his
wife so mad, And what those brief reflections were, upon that
blotting pad; And why a suit for a divorce was quickly brought
about— Hold this before your looking-glass and you will
soon find out.

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mine Vamily

Dimbled scheeks, mit eyes off plue, Mout' like id vas moisd mit dew, Und leedle teeth shust peekin' droo- Dot's der baby.

Curly head, und full off glee, Browsers all oudt at der knee— He vas peen blaying horse, you see— Dot's leedle Yawcob.

Von hundord-seexty in der shade, Der oder day vhen she vas veighed- She beats me soon, I vas avraid— Dot's mine Katrina.

Barefooted head, und pooty stoudt, Mit grooked legs dot vill bend oudt, Fond off his bier und sauer-kraut— Dot's me himself.

Von schmall young baby, full off fun, Von leedle prite-eyed, roguish son, Von frau to greet vhen vork vas done— Dot's mine vamily.

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To a Dressmaker

Oh! wherefore bid me leave thy side,
Dear Polly? I would ask.
How can I all my feelings cloak
When in thy smiles I basque?
Nay, "Polly-nay", I cannot go!
Oh! do not stand aloof,
When of my warm affection
You possess, oh, wat-er-proof!
Why will you thus my feelings gore
By sending me away?
You know it's wrong, of corset is,
Thus to forbid my stay.
It seams as though some fell disease
Was gnawing at my heart,
And hem-orrhage would soon ensue
If we, perchance, should part.
Then waist the precious time no more,
But let the parson tie us
Sew firmly that the marriage-knot
Shall never be cut bias.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Yaw, Dot Ish So!

Yaw, dot ish so! Yaw, dot ish so!
"Dis vorldt vas all a fleeting show."

I shmokes mine pipe,
I trinks mine bier,

Und efry day to vork I go;
"Dis vorldt vas all a fleeting show;"
"Yaw, dot ish so !

Yaw, dot ish so! Yaw, dot ish so!
I don'd got mooch down here below,

I eadt and trink,
I vork und shleep,

Und find oudt, as I oldter grow,
I haf a hardter row to hoe;

Yaw, dot ish so!

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Misplaced Sympathy

Little Benny sat one evening,
Looking o'er his picture-book:
Suddenly his mother noticed
On his face a troubled look.
He was gazing on a picture, —
"Christians in the early days,"
When the cruel tyrant Nero
Harassed them in various ways.
'Twas a family of Christians,
Torn by lions fierce and wild,
In the horrible arena,
Which had thus distressed the child.
Thinking it a golden moment
To impress his youthful mind
With our freedom, dearly purchased,
And by martyrs' blood refined,
His good mother told the story
Of their persecutions sore,
While he listened, all attention,
And the picture pondered o'er.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Prevalent Poetry

A Wandering tribe, called the Siouxs,
Wear moccasins, having no shiouxs;

They are made of buckskin,
With the fleshy side in,

Embroidered with beads of bright hyiouxs.

When out on the war-path, the Siouxs
March single file — never by tiouxs—

And by "blazing" the trees
Can return at their ease,

And their way through the forests ne'er liouxs.

All new-fashioned boats he eschiouxs,
And uses the birch-bark caniouxs;

These are handy and light,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Economy

"There's nothing like economy,"
I heard a chap remark,
Who, judging by his tout ensemble,
Had issued from the ark.
He was a most peculiar man,
With visage wan and thin,
And liquid drops of amber hue
A-trickling down his chin.
"They tell us it's extravagant,"
He added with a shrug,
As he deposited a quid
Within his spacious "mug," —
"They tell us it's extravagant,
This ' chewing of the weed;'
But only use ' economy,'
You'll never be in need.
"And this is how to practise it:
Chew your tobacco well,
Using a little at a time,—
It nat'rally will swell;

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poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pat's Criticism

There's a story that's old,
But good if twice told,

Of a doctor of limited skill,

Who cured beast and man
On the " cold-water plan,"

Without the small help of a pill.

On his portal of pine
Hung an elegant sign,

Depicting a beautiful rill,
And a lake where a sprite,
With apparent delight,

Was sporting in sweet dishabille.

Pat McCarty one day,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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