TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Some minor changes are noted at the [end of the book.]

THE LAUGHING WILLOW

OLIVER HERFORD

Apropos de Rien

THE

LAUGHING WILLOW

VERSES AND PICTURES

BY

OLIVER HERFORD

Author of “Artful Antics,” “The Child’s Primer of Natural
History,” “Overheard in a Garden,” “Fairy Godmother-in-Law,”
“Astonishing Tale of a Pen and Ink
Puppet,” “The Confessions of a
Caricaturist,” etc.

NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

Copyright, 1918,
By George H. Doran Company

Printed in the United States of America

TO PEG

Oh, should some power the giftie gie her

To see hersel’ as ithers see her,

I’m thinking Peg would grow sae vain

He’d take the giftie back again.

[CONTENTS]

THE LAUGHING WILLOW

To see the Kaiser’s epitaph

Would make a weeping willow laugh.

THE LAUGHING WILLOW

[EPITAPHS]

Willy Nilly

Here lies Willy’s mortal clay

In its Mother Earth’s caresses.

Willy’s soul has flown away—

Where it is you have two guesses.

Here lies Bill

Here lies Bill, the son of Fred.

He lied alive; he now lies dead.

Tears, Idle Tears

Oh, stranger, dry the starting tear!

Kaiser Bill is buried here.

Pax

’Neath this stone lies Kaiser Bill.

He sought for peace—he seeks it still.

Requiescat

Here Wilhelm sleeps. For Mercy’s sake,

Tread softly, friend, lest he should wake!

Ashes to Ashes

Swallow him, O Earth, for he,

Did his best to swallow thee.

[THE TRUTH ABOUT RUSSIA]

THE WEDDING FEAST

This is a Russian Wedding Feast;

Counting the Groom, there are at least

A hundred sitting down to dine,

Or let us call it ninety-nine:

For more than that there is no room,

And no one ever counts the Groom!

A MUJIK

The Mujik wears a costume weird

Consisting of a fuzzy beard,

A sheep-skin blouse (the wool inside)

And breeks astonishingly wide,

Made from the fur of North sea Whales,

And Yak-hide boots with big brass nails.

THE COSSACK

The Cossack is so much at home

Upon his horse, that though he roam

From Vladivostok to Odessa,

His wife has only to address a

Letter to Ivan “care his Horse”

To catch her Spouse, unless of course,

As sometimes happens, Ivan may

Have swapped addresses on the way.

THE THREE S’S

Without a doubt the Samovar

The Steppes and Russian Sables are

Of all things Russian the best known;

So in this picture I have shown

A Sable sitting on a flight

Of Russian Steppes, before a bright

New Samovar, calm as can be,

Brewing a cup of Russian Tea.

[THE AIR RAID]

I

Come into the cellar, Maud.

Get a move on! Goodness gracious,

There is nothing to applaud

In bravado ostentatious!

Still Maud lingered, all unheeding,

As the Siren sounded twice;

Above the din her voice came pleading,

“Are you sure there’s no mice?”

II

Above the pandemonium

Of Siren shrill and warning Drum

And Aircraft Gun is heard the roar

Of little Freddy, ætat four;

The cellar dark and dank and dim

No fascination has for him,

The little darling wants to be

Upstairs upon the roof and see

The “fireworks!” “If you ask me—”

Aunt Kate was overheard to say,

“I’d let the dear child have his way!”

III

A hidden Crime, however slight,

Is sure some day to see the light;

Oh, why did Auntie come to stay

With us upon an Air-raid day!

Why did we never think to tell her

That there were Lizards in the cellar

Or Spiders or an Open Drain!

How shall we ever now explain

That “Antique Vase” we said was lost,

That Nile green horror, gold embossed,

Her Wedding Present—there it lay

Before her eyes, as plain as day!

We almost wished a bomb would fall

Upon the house and end it all!

IV

Who is that cowardly Jack Horner

Crouching there in the darkest corner,

Behind the furnace? Look again,

That is no cringing coward, when

Your eyes become accustomed to

The darkness of the cellar, you

Will see it is no other than

Philander Jones and Marian;

Make no mistake, Philander’s dread

Is not a Zeppelin overhead,

But that rude moment when he’ll hear

The beastly Siren sound “All’s clear!”

V

“Where is Molly?” Like a Shell,

Short and sharp, the question fell,

Scattering every one pell mell

From the cellar’s safe retreat

Through the house on panic feet,

Basement, Attic—everywhere

They sought, one hope remained and there

On the Drying-roof they found her,

Shrapnel flashing all around her,

Calm and cool ’mid war’s alarms,

Hugging something in her arms.

“I’s all right—don’t cwy!” said Molly,

“I tame back to det my dolly!”

[VALE DIABOLE]

At a recent church conference it was decided to drop the Devil from the ritual.

Well! Well! so you’ve been fired,

You’ve lost your job at last.

It’s high time you retired,

Old Boy, you’re failing fast.

You’re getting old, you know it,

You are not in the race.

Admit you cannot go it,

The killing, modern pace.

Your methods are too dull for

The modern school of Hate,

Your lake of burning sulphur

Is sadly out of date.

The Hohenzollern’s Kultur

Mocks at your fiery pits,

His double-headed vulture

Has put yours on the fritz.

Beside the fierce, blaspheming,

Mail-fisted Kaiser Bill,

You are a seraph beaming,

An angel of good-will.

But tho’ we can’t deny, sir,

You’re hopelessly outclassed,

You’ve one thing on the Kaiser,

Which is, tho’ first and last

A failure as a devil,

Yet boast of this you can:

You were always on the level—

And—you are a gentleman!

[THE WRONG FLOOR]

A certain Emperor

(This is a censored tale)

Once pounded on the door

Of heaven with fist of mail.

Cried Peter from within,

Awakened by the row,

“Stop that infernal din!

Who are you, anyhow?”

“Don’t bandy words with me!”

Thundered the visitor.

“All doors to me are free.

I am the Emperor.”

“If you’re an Emperor,”

Said Peter, “then I fear

You’ve come to the wrong floor.

We take no Emperors here.

“Our waiting list is filled

With martyrs brave and true

Whose blood an Emperor spilled.

There is no room for you.”

Cowed by Saint Peter’s look,

The Emperor, with a frown,

Cried, “Well, I’m damned!” and took

The elevator—down.

[MARCHING TO BERLIN]

We come from God’s own country in the ships of Uncle Sam;

We’re going to get the william-goat of Kaiser Will—i—am;

We know it is verboten, but we do not give a damn,

As we go marching to Berlin!

(Drums) Berlin! Berlin!

Berlin! Berlin! Berlin!

As we go marching to Berlin!

Refrain

Hurray! Hurray! We’ll wave the Stripes and Stars!

Away, away with Emperors and Czars!

And when we get the Kaiser we’ll put him behind the bars,

As we go marching to Berlin!

(Drums) Berlin! Berlin! etc.

We’re from the dear old U. S. A., the Land of Liberty;

We’ve crossed a hundred rivers and three thousand miles of sea

To teach the Huns a thing or two about Democracy,

As we go marching to Berlin!

(Drums) Berlin! Berlin! etc.

Refrain

Hurray! Hurray! We’ll show the Prussian swine

That Freedom is the only Right Divine,

And when we catch old Kaiser Bill we’ll pitch him in the Rhine,

As we go marching to Berlin!

(Drums) Berlin! Berlin! etc.

We’ve left our happy homes that we may help to win the war.

We’re a million strong already, and there’ll soon be millions more;

And when the job is done with Kaiser Bill we’ll mop the floor,

As we go marching to Berlin!

(Drums) Berlin! Berlin! etc.

Refrain

Hurray! Hurray! We’re going to make it hot

For all the bloody Hohenzollern lot,

And when we get the Kaiser we’ll present him to his Gott,

As we go marching to Berlin!

(Drums) Berlin! Berlin!

Berlin! Berlin! Berlin!

As we go marching to Berlin!

[TARGET PRACTICE]

At the Imperial Schützenfest

Fritz Pickelheim led all the rest;

At target practice Pickelheim

Could hit the Red Cross every time;

At the clay-baby contest Fritz

Scored nineteen out of twenty hits;

And once he won the Kaiser’s purse

With nine live babies and a nurse.

[THE SAUSAGE BALLOON]

I often wonder, when we fry

A Sausage, if its thoughts can fly

Across the billowy ocean wave

To where its namesake stern and brave

Floats like a Guardian Angel, high

Above our armies, in the sky,

Serene and stately as a cloud.

No wonder Sausages are proud!

No wonder Sausages when fried

Oft-times swell up and burst with pride!