her Soul.

So what with his jeering and fleering and sneering,
He plagued her from dawn until dark.
He bellowed "I'll teach ye to read Shaw and Nietzsche"--
And he was as bad as his bark.
"The place for a woman----" he'd start, very glib....
And so on, for two or three hours _ad lib_.

So very malignant became his indignant
Remarks about "Culture" and "Cranks,"
That at last she revolted. She up and she bolted
And entered the militant ranks....
When she died, after breaking nine-tenths of the laws,
She left all her money and jewels to the Cause!

And _THE MORAL_ is this (though a bit abstruse):
What's sauce for a more or less proper goose,
When it rouses the violent, feminine dander,
Is apt to be sauce for the propaganda.

_Louis Untermeyer._

THE MODERN HIAWATHA

He killed the noble Mudjokivis.
Of the skin he made him mittens,
Made them with the fur side inside
Made them with the skin side outside.
He, to get the warm side inside,
Put the inside skin side outside;
He, to get the cold side outside,
Put the warm side fur side inside.
That's why he put the fur side inside,
Why he put the skin side outside.
Why he turned them inside outside.

_Unknown._

SOMEWHERE-IN-EUROPE-WOCKY

'Twas brussels, and the loos liege
Did meuse and arras in latour;
All vimy were the metz maubege,
And the tsing-tau namur.

"Beware the petrograd, my son--
The jaws that bite, the claws that plough!
Beware the posen, and verdun
The soldan mons glogau!"

He took his dixmude sword in hand;
Long time his altkirch foe he sought;
Then rested he 'neath the warsaw tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in danzig thought he stood
The petrograd, with eyes of flame,
Came ypring through the cracow wood,
And longwied as it came.

One two! One two! and through and through
The dixmude blade went snicker-snack;
He left it dead, and with its head
He gallipolied back.

"And hast thou slain the petrograd?
Come to my arms, my krithnia boy!
O chanak day! Artois! Grenay!"
He woevred in his joy.

'Twas brussels, and the loos liege
Did meuse and arras in latour;
All vimy were the metz maubege,
And the tsing-tau namur.

_F. G. Hartswick._

RIGID BODY SINGS

Gin a body meet a body
Flyin' through the air,
Gin a body hit a body,
Will it fly? and where?
Ilka impact has its measure,
Ne'e