Volume 99 — ALL VERY VINE!

I'll tell thee everything I can; There's little to relate: I met a simple citizen Of some "United State." "Who are you, simple man?" I said, "And how is it you live?" And his answer seemed quite 'cute from one So shy and sensitive. He said, "I make electric cats That prowl upon the leads, To prey upon the brutes who raise Mad music o'er our heads. I also make all sorts of things Which much convenience give; In fact, I'm an inventor spry, And that is how I live. "And I am thinking of a plan For artificial hens, And automatic dairy-maids, And self-propelling pens." "Such things are stale," I made reply, "They're old, and flat, and thin. Tell me the last thing in your pate, Or I will cave it in!" His accents mild took up the tale: He said, "I've tried to make A sirloin out of turnips, and A vegetable steak." I shook him well, from side to side, To stimulate his brain; "You've got some newer dodge," I cried, "And that you must explain." He said, "I always willingly Do anything to please. What do you say to growing grapes That taste like strawberr-ees! They're showing off at Chiswick now, As I a sinner am, Some big black Hamburgs which, when pressed, Taste just like raspberry jam." So now whene'er I drink a glass Of wine that seems like rum, Or peel myself an orange that Reminds me of a plum, Or if I come across a peach With flavour like a bilberry, I weep, for it reminds me so Of Chiswick's Grape and Dahlia Show, And that 'cute man I used to know, Who could at will transform a sloe Into a thing with the aro- -ma of all fruits known here below, From apricot to mulberry.