uldst not, gentle roachling, be
Forlorn and gaunt and weak and sad.

This paste to-night especially
For thee and all thy kind I fixed,
You'll find some whiskey in it mixed,
For which you have to thank but me.
So freely of the banquet take,
And if you chance to find a drop
Of liquor, prithee do not stop
But quaff it for thy stomach's sake.

Why dost thou stand upon thy head,
All etiquette requirements scorning,
And sing "You won't go home till morning"
And "Put me in my little bed"?
Your tongue, fair roach, is very thick,
Your eyes are red, your cheeks are pale,
Your underpinning seems to fail,
You are, I wot, full as a tick.

ENVOI

I think I see that roach's home,
That roach's wife, with broom in hand,
That roach come staggering homeward and
Then all is glum and gloom and gloam.

A LAY OF ANCIENT ROME

BY THOMAS YBARRA

Oh! the Roman was a rogue,
He erat, was, you bettum;
He ran his automobilis
And smoked his cigarettum;
He wore a diamond studibus,
An elegant cravattum,
A maxima cum laude shirt,
And _such_ a stylish hattum!

He loved the luscious hic-haec-hock,
And bet on games and equi;
At times he won; at others, though,
He got it in the nequi;
He winked (quo usque tandem?)
At puellas on the Forum,
And sometimes even made
Those goo-goo oculorum!

He frequently was seen
At combats gladiatorial,
And ate enough to feed
Ten boarders at Memorial;
He often went on sprees
And said, on starting homus,
"Hic labor--opus est,
Oh, where's my hic--hic--domus?"

Although he lived in Rome--
Of all the arts the middle--
He was (excuse the phrase)
A horrid individ'l;
Ah! what a diff'rent thing
Was the homo (dative, hominy)
Of far-away B. C.
From us of Anno Domini.

LITTLE BOPEEP AND LITTLE BOY BLUE

BY SAMUEL MINTURN PECK

It happened one morning that Little Bopeep,
While watching her frolicsome, mischievous sheep
Out in the meadow, fell fast asleep.

By her wind-blown tresses and rose-leaf pout,
And her dimpling smile, you'd have guessed, no doubt,
'Twas love, love, love she was dreaming about.

As she lay there asleep, came little Boy Blue,
Right over the stile where the daisies grew;
Entranced by the picture, he stopped in the dew.

So wildly bewitching that beautiful morn
Was Little Bopee