Begums! Exactly what they are
I really ought to know—but don't;
In my Encyclopædia
I'll look them up. Stay! No, I won't.
Instead, let us converse together
About Miss Mary Merryweather.
A guileless child of nature, she
Who lived out Upper Norwood way,
A Begum she desired to be,
And dreamt about this night and day,
But,—though she made a solemn vow to
Be a Begum,—knew not how to.
Later Miss Merryweather said:
"To be a Begum one must go
To India. I'd better wed
A captain on a P. and O.
I'll therefore marry Captain Jolly."
(A kind old man who called her "Polly.")
"Though what on earth a girl could see,"
He said, while on their honeymoon,
"Attractive in a man like me——"
Then Mrs. Jolly very soon
(Though doubtless with some trepidation)
Explained to him the situation.
"A Begum you can never be,
My dearest Poll, till I am dead;
Perhaps I'd better die," said he.
"If you don't mind, I think you'd better,"
Said she; "'twill suit me to the letter."
So Captain Jolly, worthy soul,
Deceased, as she desired him to.
In India—the lady's goal;
A wealthy Nabob came in view,
Whom Widow Jolly captivated.
And,—later,—married, as is stated.
"A Begum now at last am I,"
She said, when she had married him,
"A Begum!" said the Nabob. "Why?"
His wife explained. "A harmless whim,"
Said he; "but I regret to state, Ma'am,
You're not what you anticipate, Ma'am.
"Perhaps you——" "No, I won't," he cried;
"I draw the line," said he, "at that.
Although poor Jolly may have died
To please you—I refuse. That's flat!"
* * *
And so, alas! for her endeavour,
She never was a Begum,—never!