you may have met, when walking out
or thereabout,
a lady (angular and plain)
escorted by an ancient swain,
or, possibly, by two,
each leading by a piece of string
a lazy, fat, and pampered thing
supposed to be a dog. you may,
perhaps, have noticed them, i say,
and, if so, thought, "they do
present unto the public gaze
a singular appearance—very."
that lady, doubtless, was my aunt,
miss betsy jane priscilla perry.
the gentleman—or gentlemen—
attending her were captain venne
and major alec stubbs. these two
for many years had sought to woo
my maiden aunt, miss p.,
who never could make up her mind
which one to marry, so was kind
to one or other—each in turn—
thus causing jealous pangs to burn.
i incidentally
should mention here the quadrupeds—
respectively called "popsey petsey,"—
a mongrel pug;—and "baby heart,"—
a poodle—both belonged to betsy.
you'd notice captain venne was tall,
and major stubbs compact and small;
these two on nought could e'er agree,
except in this—they hated me,
sole nephew to aunt bess.
my aunt was very wealthy, and
i think you'll quickly understand
the situation, when i say
that captain venne was on half-pay,
and major stubbs on less.
to me it was so very plain
and evident, i thought it funny
my aunt should never, never see
they wanted, not her, but her money.
and stubbs and venne they did arrange
a plan, intended to estrange
my aunt and me. they told her lies;
and one day, to my great surprise,
a letter came for me.
requesting me to "call at six,"
for aunt had "heard of all the tricks
i had been up to," and "was sad
at hearing an account so bad."
i went—in time for tea.
my aunt was looking so severe
i felt confused, a perfect noodle
while major stubbs caressed the pug,
and captain venne he nursed the poodle.
"dear major stubbs," my aunt began,
"has told me all—quite all he can—
of your sad goings on. oh, fie!
where will you go to when you die,
you naughty wicked boy?"
and captain venne has told me too
what very dreadful things you do.
of course i cannot but believe
my two dear friends. they'd not deceive,
nor characters destroy,
without a cause. go, leave me now,
you'll see my purpose shall not falter
i'll send at once for lawyer slymm,
my latest will to bring and alter."
i fear i lost my temper—quite;
i know i said what wasn't right;
you see, i felt it hard to bear
(and really, i contend, unfair),
to be misjudged like this.
i tried to argue, but 'twas vain,
"my mind is fixed—my way is plain,"
my aunt declared. "then hear me now!"
i hotly cried, "there's naught, i vow,
to cause you to dismiss
your nephew thus, but, as you please.
and if, perchance, you wish to do it,
your money leave to your two friends;
they want it, and—they're welcome to it."
i hurried out. i slammed the door.
i vowed i'd never call there more.
and neither did i, in my pride,
till six weeks since, when poor aunt died,
and then, from lawyer slymm
i got a little note, which said:
"the will on tuesday will be read."
i went, and found that "baby heart"
from captain venne must ne'er depart—
she had been left to him;
while "popsey petsey" major stubbs
received as his sole legacy
and that was all. the money—oh!
the money—that was left to me.
