Thanksgiving

_The Superintendent of an Almshouse. A Pauper._ SUPERINTENDENT: So _you're_ unthankful-you'll not eat the bird? You sit about the place all day and gird. I understand you'll not attend the ball That's to be given to-night in Pauper Hall. PAUPER: Why, that is true, precisely as you've heard: I have no teeth and I will eat no bird. SUPERINTENDENT: Ah! see how good is Providence. Because Of teeth He has denuded both your jaws The fowl's made tender; you can overcome it By suction; or at least-well, you can gum it, Attesting thus the dictum of the preachers That Providence is good to all His creatures- Turkeys excepted. Come, ungrateful friend, If our Thanksgiving dinner you'll attend You shall say grace-ask God to bless at least The soft and liquid portions of the feast. PAUPER. Without those teeth my speech is rather thick He'll hardly understand Gum Arabic. No, I'll not dine to-day. As to the ball, 'Tis known to you that I've no legs at all. I had the gout-hereditary; so, As it could not be cornered in my toe They cut my legs off in the fond belief That shortening me would make my anguish brief. Lacking my legs I could not prosecute With any good advantage a pursuit; And so, because my father chose to court Heaven's favor with his ortolans and Port (Thanksgiving every day!) the Lord supplied Saws for my legs, an almshouse for my pride And, once a year, a bird for my inside. No, I'll not dance-my light fantastic toe Took to its heels some twenty years ago. Some small repairs would be required for putting My feelings on a saltatory footing. _(Sings)_ O the legless man's an unhappy chap _Tum-hi, tum-hi, tum-he o'haddy The favors o' fortune fall not in his lap _Tum-hi, tum-heedle-do hum The plums of office avoid his plate No matter how much he may stump the State _Tum-hi, ho-heeee._ The grass grows never beneath his feet, But he cannot hope to make both ends meet _Tum-hi._ With a gleeless eye and a somber heart, He plays the role of his mortal part: Wholly himself he can never be. O, a soleless corporation is he! _Tum_. SUPERINTENDENT: The chapel bell is calling, thankless friend, Balls you may not, but church you _shall_, attend. Some recognition cannot be denied To the great mercy that has turned aside The sword of death from us and let it fall Upon the people's necks in Montreal; That spared our city, steeple, roof and dome, And drowned the Texans out of house and home; Blessed all our continent with peace, to flood The Balkan with a cataclysm of blood. Compared with blessings of so high degree, Your private woes look mighty small-to me.