CROOKED ANSWERS.

(Dedicated to the Laureate.)

NO. 1.—VERE DE VERE.

THE Lady Clara V. de V.

Presents her very best regards

To that misguided Alfred T.

(With one of her enamell'd cards).

Though uninclin'd to give offence,

The Lady Clara begs to hint

That Master Alfred's common sense

Deserts him utterly in print.

The Lady Clara can but say,

That always from the very first

She snubb'd in her decisive way

The hopes that silly Alfred nurs'd.

The fondest words that ever fell

From Lady Clara, when they met,

Were "How d 'ye do? I hope you 're well!

Or else "The weather's very wet."

To show a disregard for truth

By penning scurrilous attacks,

Appears to Lady C. in sooth

Like stabbing folks behind their backs.

The age of chivalry, she fears,

Is gone for good, since noble dames

Who irritate low sonneteers

Get pelted with improper names.

The Lady Clara cannot think

What kind of pleasure can accrue

From wasting paper, pens, and ink,

On statements the reverse of true.

If Master Launcelot, one fine day,

(Urged on by madness or by malt.)

Destroy'd himself—can Alfred say

The Lady Clara was in fault?

Her Ladyship needs no advice

How time and money should be spent,

And can't pursue at any price

The plan that Alfred T. has sent.

She does not in the least object

To let the "foolish yeoman" go,

But wishes—let him recollect—

That he should move to Jericho.

NO. 2.—MAUD.

Nay, I cannot come into the garden just new,

Tho' it vexes me much to refuse:

But I must have the next set of waltzes, I vow,

With Lieutenant de Boots of the Blues.

I am sure you 'll be heartily pleas'd when you hear

That our ball has been quite a success.

As for me—I've been looking a monster, my dear,

In that old-fashion'd guy of a dress.

You had better at once hurry home, dear, to bed;

It is getting so dreadfully late,

You may catch the bronchitis or cold in the head

If you linger so long at our gate.

Don't be obstinate, Alfy; come, take my advice—

For I know you're in want of repose.

Take a basin of gruel (you 'll find it so nice)

And remember to tallow your nose.

No, I tell you I can't and I shan't get away,

For De Boots has implor'd me to sing.

As to you—if you like it, of course you can stay;

You were always an obstinate thing.

If you feel it a pleasure to talk to the flow'rs

About'"babble and revel and wine,"

When you might have been snoring for two or three hours.

Why, it's not the least business of mine.