Selling me gallons of chemical
Tonic, a brush, and a strop;

You with your sad comicality,
You with your bum badinage--
Confound your congeniality!
Confound your "Facial Massage?"

Still, though you shave contragrainious,[Footnote: Well, there ought to be.]
Healing the cut with a lime,
Don't I, quite nice and spontaneous,
Daily contribute a dime?

Mountain of foreign servility,
Butcher of chin and of lip.
Maugre your marked inability,
Do I not fall for the tip?

Hope you at Christmas for currency,
Fiend of tonsorial tricks?
Never was greater aberrancy--
Coarsely I say to you, "Nix!"


VI

TO THE HALL-AND-ELEVATOR-BOY


Lo, the West Indian! whose untutored mind