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Absurd Ditties

Chapter 17: XIV. THAT OF——?
By G. E. Farrow
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About This Book

A collection of short comic poems and sketches presenting a parade of ludicrous incidents and eccentric personae. Each piece is a self-contained vignette in playful rhyme, often headed as the tale of a particular figure, and delivers light social satire, puns, and ironic reversals. Forms range from brief ditties and ballades to longer narrative verses, and the volume mixes domestic farce, topical parody, and whimsical fantasy, with jaunty rhythm and illustrative plates underscoring its breezy, absurd sensibility.

XIV.
THAT OF——?

Phwat's thot yer afther sayin'—
Oi "don't look meself at all?"
Och, murder! sure ye've guessed it.
Whist! Oi'm not meself at all,
But another man entoirly,
An' Oi'd bether tell ye trooly
How ut iz Oi'm but purtendin'
That Oi'm Mr. Pat O'Dooley.
Tim Finnegan an' me, sor,
Waz a-fightin ov the blacks
In hathen foreign parts, sor,
An' yer pardon Oi would ax
If Oi mention thot the customs
In them parts iz free an' aisy,
An' the costooms—bein' mostly beads—
Iz airy-loike an' braizy.
But them blacks iz good at fightin'
An' they captured me an' Tim;
An' they marched us back in triumph
To their village—me an' him;
An' they didn't trate us badly,
As Oi'm not above confessin',
Tho' their manners—as Oi said before—
An' customs, waz disthressin'.
So Oi set meself to teachin'
The King's daughter to behave
As a perfect lady should do;
An' Oi taught the King to shave;
An' Oi added to the lady's
Scanty costoom by the prisent
Ov a waistcoat, which she thanked me for,
A-smilin' moighty plisent.
Now she wazn't bad to look at,
An' she fell in love with me,
Which was awkward for all parties,
As you prisently will see;
For on wan noight, when the village
Waz all quiet-loike an' slapin',
The King's daughter to the hut, phwere
Tim an' me lay, came a-crapin'.
An' she whispered in my ear, sor:
"Get up quick, an' come this way,
Oi'll assist ye in escapin',
If ye'll do just phwat Oi say."
An' she led me by the hand, sor;
It waz dark, the rain was pourin'
An' we safely passed the huts, sor,
Phwere the sintrys waz a snorin'
Then we ran, an' ran, an' ran, sor,
Through all the blessid noight,
An' waz many miles away, sor,
Before the day was loight.
Then the lady saw my features,
An' she stopped an' started cryin',
For she found that I waz Tim instead
Ov me, which waz most tryin'.
In the hurry an' the scurry
Ov the darkness, don't yez see,
She had made a big mistake,
An' rescued him instead ov me—
An' to me it waz confusin'
An' most hard ov realizin';
For to find yerself another person,
Sor, iz most surprisin'.
An' pwhen the lady left me,
An' Oi'd got down to the shore
An' found a ship to take me home,
Oi puzzled more an' more,
For, ov course, the woife an' family
Ov Finnegan's was moine, sor,
Tho' Oi didn't know the wan ov 'em
By hook, nor crook, nor soign, sor.
But Oi came to the decision
They belonged to me no doubt,
So directly Oi had landed
Oi began to look about.
Tim Finnegan had told me
That he lived up in Killarn'y,
An' Oi found meself that far, somehow,
By carnying an' blarney.
An' Oi found me woife an' family—
But, ach! upon my loife
Oi waz greatly disappointed
In my family an' woife,
For my woife was not a beauty,
An' her temper wazn't cheerin'
While the family—onkindly—
At their father took to jeerin'.
"Oi waz better off as Pat," thought Oi,
"Than Oi'll iver be as Tim.
Bedad! Oi'd better be meself
An' lave off bein' him.
Oi won't stay here in Killarn'y,
Phwere they trate poor Tim so coolly,
But purtend to be meself agin
In dear old Ballyhooley.'
So Oi came to Ballyhooley,
An' Oi've niver told before
To anyone the story
Oi've been tellin' to ye, sor,
An' it, all ov it, occurred, sor,
Just exactly as Oi state it,
Though, ov course, ye'll understand, sor,
Oi don't wish ye to repate it.