Читать книгу A Parody Anthology - Wells Carolyn - Страница 18

IT is an Ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three —

In fact he coolly took my arm —

“There was a ship," quoth he.

“Bother your ships!" said I, “is this

The time a yarn to spin?

This is a wedding, don't you see,

And I am next of kin.

“The wedding breakfast has begun,

We're hungry as can be —

Hold off! Unhand me, longshore man!"

With that his hand dropt he.

But there was something in his eye,

That made me sick and ill,

Yet forced to listen to his yarn —

The Mariner'd had his will.

While Tom and Harry went their way

I sat upon a stone —

So queer on Fanny's wedding day

Me sitting there alone!

Then he began, that Mariner,

To rove from pole to pole,

In one long-winded, lengthened-out,

Eternal rigmarole,

About a ship in which he'd sailed,

Though whither, goodness knows,

Where “ice will split with a thunder-fit,"

And every day it snows.

And then about a precious bird

Of some sort or another,

That – was such nonsense ever heard? —

Used to control the weather!

Now, at this bird the Mariner

Resolved to have a shy,

And laid it low with his cross-bow —

And then the larks! My eye!

For loss of that uncommon fowl,

They couldn't get a breeze;

And there they stuck, all out of luck,

And rotted on the seas.

The crew all died, or seemed to die,

And he was left alone

With that queer bird. You never heard

What games were carried on!

At last one day he stood and watched

The fishes in the sea,

And said, “I'm blest!" and so the ship

Was from the spell set free.

And it began to rain and blow,

And as it rained and blew,

The dead got up and worked the ship —

That was a likely crew!

However, somehow he escaped,

And got again to land,

But mad as any hatter, say,

From Cornhill to the Strand.

For he believes that certain folks

Are singled out by fate,

To whom this cock-and-bull affair

Of his he must relate.

Describing all the incidents,

And painting all the scenes,

As sailors will do in the tales

They tell to the Marines.

Confound the Ancient Mariner!

I knew I should be late;

And so it was; the wedding guests

Had all declined to wait.

Another had my place, and gave

My toast; and sister Fan

Said “'Twas a shame. What could you want

With that seafaring man?"

I felt like one that had been stunned

Through all this wrong and scorn;

A sadder and a later man

I rose the morrow morn.

IT was a railway passenger,

And he lept out jauntilie.

"Now up and bear, thou stout portèr,

My two chattèls to me.

"Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red,

And portmanteau so brown;

(They lie in the van, for a trusty man

He labelled them London town:)

"And fetch me eke a cabman bold,

That I may be his fare, his fare;

And he shall have a good shilling,

If by two of the clock he do me bring

To the Terminus, Euston Square."

"Now, – so to thee the saints alway,

Good gentleman, give luck, —

As never a cab may I find this day,

For the cabman wights have struck.

And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn,

Or else at the Dog and Duck,

Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin,

The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin

Right pleasantly they do suck."

"Now rede me aright, thou stout portèr,

What were it best that I should do:

For woe is me, an' I reach not there

Or ever the clock strike two."

"I have a son, a lytel son;

Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's:

Give him a shilling, and eke a brown,

And he shall carry thy fardels down

To Euston, or half over London town,

On one of the station trucks."

Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare,

The gent and the son of the stout portèr,

Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair,

Through all the mire and muck:

"A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray:

For by two of the clock must I needs away."

"That may hardly be," the clerk did say,

"For indeed – the clocks have struck."