Ogden Nash -- Selections of Poems from Good Intentions ----- GLOSSINA MORSITANS, OR, THE TSETSE A Glossina morsitans bit rich Aunt Betsy. Tsk tsk, tsetse. ----- LATHER AS YOU GO Beneath this slab John Brown is stowed. He watched the ads, And not the road. ----- THE LOUSE Robert Burns, that gifted souse, Kindly immortalized the louse, Who probably won't, when he is master, Immortalize this poetaster. ----- THE SMELT Oh, why does man pursue the smelt? It has no valuable pelt, It boasts of no escutcheon royal, It yields no ivory or oil, Its life is dull, its death is tame, A fish as humble as its name. Yet -- take this salmon somewhere else. And bring me half a dozen smelts. ----- THE FIREFLY The firefly's flame Is something for which science has no name. I can think of nothing eerier Than flying around with an unidentified glow on a person's posteerier. ----- THE GANDER Be careful not to cross the gander, A bird composed of beak and dander. His heart is filled with prideful hate Of all the world except his mate, And if the neighbors do not err He's overfond of beating her. Is she happy? What's the use Of trying to psychoanalyze a goose? ----- A BRIEF EXPLANATION OF WOMEN Women have antiques In their pantiques. ----- THE GRACKLE The grackle's voice is less than mellow, His heart is black, his eye is yellow, He bullies more attractive birds With hoodlum deeds and vulgar words, And should a human interfere, Attacks that human in the rear. I cannot help but deem the grackle An ornithological debacle. ----- SAMSON AGONISTES I test my bath before I sit, And I'm always moved to wonderment That what chills not the finger a bit Is so frigid upon the fundament. ----- HERE'S TO YOU, LITTLE BOY BLUE Sleep is something about which I feel so strongly and affectionately that I would fain write a song about it, And I constantly marvel at the great men who have been wrong about it. Critics tell us that there have been few more lucid minds than Dr. Johnson's, Yet it was Dr. Johnson who said, "Preserve me from unseasonable and immoderate sleep," which is obviously arrant nonsense. What does he mean "unseasonable," does he mean he only wants to sleep in the winter, like a groundhog, or through a Beethoven sonata, like a jitterbug, and does he deem thirteen hours' sleep a night immoderate? Why Shakespeare himself, whose mind critics tell us there have been few more lucid than, expressly states that "Sleep knits up the ravelled sleave of care" and would be the first to admit that a good thirteen-hour sleep would not only knit it up but even spell it correctly and solder it. Yet even Shakespeare nodded at times, for did ne not write "To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub"? Well he must have written those lines either to Sweeney or the marines or the Thibetan navy, Because to dream is not the rub, it's the gravy, Because I know a man, who can't throw a baseball any harder than your granddaughter can blow a bubble, And he dreamed he was pitching for the Giants against Brookly and he shut them out with one hit and it would have been a no-hitter only Mel Ott misjudged an easy fly with two out in the ninth and it rolled through his legs for a double, But he fanned Medwick on two pitched balls to end the game, so this dream not only pleased him but also helped the Giants' box office quite a lot, Because now whenever this man is awake he goes up to the Polo Ground not because he expects to get to pitch again, but just to boo Ott. So about the greatness of Shakespeare and Dr. Johnson I do not wish to hear another peep, Because for my money no man is greater than his respect for sleep. ----- THE JELLYFISH Who wants my jellyfish? I'm not sellyfish! ----- CELERY Celery, raw, Develops the jaw, But celery, stewed, Is more quietly chewed. ----- ASSORTED CHOCOLATES If some convectioner were willing To let the shape announce the filling, We'd encounter fewer assorted chocs, Bitten into and returned to the box. ----- THE PARSNIP The parsnip, children, I repeat, Is simply an anemic beet. Some people call the parsnip edible; Myself, I find this claim incredible. ----- THE PORPOISE I kind of like the playful porpoise, A healthy mind in a healthy corpus. He and his cousin, the playful dolphin, Why they like swimmin like I like golphin. ----- THE EEL I don't mind eels Except as meals. ----- FURTHER REFLECTION OF PARSLEY Parsley Is gharsley. ----- THE FLY God in His wisdom made the fly And then forgot to tell us why. ----- THE BOY WHO LAUGHED AT SANTA CLAUS In Baltimore there lived a boy. He wasn't anybody's joy. Although his name was Jabez Dawes, His character was full of flaws. In school he never led his classes, He hid old ladies' reading glasses, His mouth was open when he chewed, And elbows to the table glued. He stole the milk of hungry kittens, And walked through doors marked NO ADMITTANCE. He said he acted thus because There wasn't any Santa Claus. Another trick that tickled Jabez Was crying "Boo!" at little babies. He brushed his teeth, they said in town, Sideways instead of up and down. Yet people pardoned his every sin, And viewed his antics with a grin, Till they were told by Jabez Dawes, "There isn't any Santa Claus!" Deploring how he did behave, His parents swiftly sought their grave. They hurried through the portals pearly, And Jabez left the funeral early. Like whooping cough, from child to child, He sped to spread the rumor wild: "Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes There isn't any Santa Claus!" Slunk like a weasel or a marten Through nursery and kindergarten, Whispering low to every tot, "There isn't any, no there's not!" The children wept all Christmas Eve And Jabez chortled up his sleeve. No infant dared hang up his stocking For fear of Jabez' ribald mocking. He sprawled on his untidy bed, Fresh malice dancing in his head, When presently with scalp a-tingling, Jabez heard a distant jingling; He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof Crisply alighting on the roof. What good to rise and bar the door? A shower of soot was on the floor. What was beheld by Jabez Dawes? The fireplace full of Santa Claus! The Jabez fell upon his knees With cries of "Don't," and "Pretty please." He howled, "I don't know where you read it, But anyhow, I never said it!" "Jabez," replied the angry saint, "It isn't I, it's you that ain't. Although there is a Santa Claus, There isn't any Jabez Dawes!" Said Jabez then with impudent vim, "Oh, yes there is; and I am him! Your magic don't scare me, it doesn't" -- And suddenly he found he wasn't! From grimy feet to unkempt locks Jabez became a jack-in-the-box, And ugly, vastly ghastly jack In Santa Claus's bulging pack. The neighbors heard his mournful squeal; The searched for him, but not with zeal. No trace was found of Jabez Dawes, Which led to thunderous applause, And people drank a loving cup And went and hung their stocking up. All you who sneer at Santa Claus, Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes, The saucy boy who mocked the saint. Donder and Blitzen licked off his paint. ----- THE TERMITE Some primal termite knocked on wood And tasted it, and found it good, And that is why your Cousin May Fell through the parlor floor today.