Sunday, April 8, 2012

King's Circle buys - Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes

King's Circle, Mumbai, has provided me with some of my most random, most fun and most precious buys, one of which is this classic - "Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes" that introduced me to the rhyme of Harry Graham.

Warning: The content is "cheerfully cruel".

I give you a few particularly pleasing ones:

The Stern Parent
Father heard his children scream
So he threw them in the stream

Saying, as he drowned the third,
"Children should be seen, not heard!"



Self-Sacrifice
FATHER, chancing to chastise
His indignant daughter Sue,
Said, "I hope you realize
That this hurts me more than you."

Susan straightway ceased to roar.
"If that's really true," said she,
"I can stand a good deal more;
Pray go on, and don't mind me."

Tender-Heartedness
BILLY, in one of his nice new sashes,
Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes;
Now, although the room grows chilly,
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.

The poet does warn in his preface that the book is not meant for kids under seventeen:

Harry Graham with niece - I guess he didn't really hate children. 
WITH guilty, conscience-stricken tears
I offer up these rhymes of mine
To children of maturer years
(From Seventeen to Ninety-nine).
A special solace may they be
In days of second infancy...


And

...Fond parent, you whose children are
Of tender age (from two to eight),
Pray keep this little volume far
From reach of such, and relegate
My verses to an upper shelf,--
Where you may study them yourself.

The Times editorial described his writing as that “enchanted world where there are no values, nor standards of conduct or feeling and where the plainest sense is the plainest nonsense” and The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography compares his verse with that of W. S. Gilbert and suggests that his prose was an early influence on P. G. Wodehouse. (Source: Wikipedia). The eggs and b. author may certainly have picked up his habit of abbreviating a word or two from Mr. Graham:

Poetical Economy

What hours I spent of precious time,
What pints of ink I used to waste,
Attempting to secure a rhyme
To suit the public taste,
Until I found a simple plan
Which makes the lamest lyric scan!

When I’ve a syllable de trop,
I cut it off without apol.
This verbal sacrifice, I know,
May irritate the schol.
But all must praise my dev’lish cunn.
Who realize that time is mon.

My sense remains as clear as cryst.,
My style as pure as any duch.
Who does not boast a bar sinist.
Upon her fam. escutch.,
And I can treat with scornful pit.
The sneers of ev’ry captious crit.

I gladly publish to the pop.
A scheme of which I make no myst.,
And beg my fellow scribes to cop.
This labor-saving syst.
I offer it to the consid.
Of ev’ry thoughtful individ.

The author, working like a beav.,
His readers’ pleasure could redoub.,
Did he but now and then abbrev.
The works he gives his pub.,
Did Upton Sinc. or Edith Whart.
Curtail their output by a quart.

If Mr. Caine rewrote “The Scape.”,
And Miss Corell. condensed “Barabb.”,
What could they save in foolscap pape.
Did they but cultivate the hab.
Which teaches people to suppress
All syllables that are unnec.!

If playwrights would but thus dimin.
The length of time each drama takes
(“The Second Mrs. Tanq.” by Pin.
Or even “Ham.” by Shakes.),
We could maintain a wakeful att.
When at a mat. on Wed. or Sat.

Foll. my examp., O Maurice Hewl.
When next you cater for the mill.;
You, too, immortal Mr. Dool.
And Ella Wheeler Wil.;
And share with me the grave respons.
Of writing this amazing nons.!

– Harry Graham, in Life, December 1909

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