SIZE AND TEARS
When on the sandy shore I sit,
Beside the salt sea-wave
And fall into a weeping fit
Because I dare not shave
A little whisper at my ear
Enquires the reason of my fear.
I answer "If that ruffian
Should recognise me here,
He'd bellow out my name in tones
Offensive to the ear:
me so on being stout
(A thing that always puts me out)."
Ah me! I see him on the cliff!
Farewell, farewell to hope,
If he should look this way, and if
He's got his telescope
To whatsoever place I flee,
rival follows me!
For every night, and everywhere,
I meet him out at dinner;
And when I've found some charming fair,
And vowed to die or win her,
(he's thin and I am stout)
Is sure to come and cut me out!
The girls (just like them!) all agree
To praise J. Jones, Esquire
I ask them what on earth they see
About him to admire?
They cry "He is so sleek and slim,
It's quite a treat to look at him!"
They vanish in tobacco smoke
Those visionary maids -
I feel a sharp and sudden poke
Between the shoulder-blades
"Why, Brown, my boy! Your growing stout!"
(I told you he would find me out!)
"My growth is not your
"No more it is, my boy!
But if it's yours
, as I infer,
Why, Brown, I give you joy!
A man, whose business prospers
Is just the sort of man to know!
"It's hardly safe, though, talking here -
I'd best get out of reach:
For such a weight as yours, I fear,
Must shortly sink the beach!" -
Insult me thus
because I'm stout!
I vow I'll go and call him out!