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Title: How The Peaceful Aladdin Gave Way To His Madness
Author: Guy Wetmore Carryl [
More Titles by Carryl]
His name was Aladdin.
The clothes he was clad in
Proclaimed him an Arab at sight,
And he had for a chum
An uncommonly rum
Old afreet, six cubits in height.
This person infernal,
Who seemed so fraternal,
At bottom was frankly a scamp:
His future to sadden,
He gave to Aladdin
A wonderful magical lamp.
A marvel he dubbed it.
He said if one rubbed it
One's wishes were done on the spot.
Now what would you do
Were it offered to you?
Refuse it undoubtedly (not)!
It's thus comprehensive
With pleasure extensive
Aladdin accepted the gift,
And, by it befriended,
Erected a splendid
Chateau, with a bath and a lift!
Not dreaming of malice,
One year in his palace
He led a luxurious life,
Till his genius dread
Put it into his head
That he needed a beautiful wife.
Responding to friction,
The lamp this affliction
At once for Aladdin secured;
The latter, delighted,
Imagined he sighted
A future of quiet assured.
When gladly he chose her,
He didn't suppose her
A philatelist, always agape
For novelties, yet
She had all of the set
Of triangular stamps of the Cape.
Some people malicious
Proclaimed her Mauritius
One-penny vermilion a sell.
But that was all rot. It
Was true she had got it,
And the tuppenny blue one as well!
Since thus she collected,
As might be expected,
She didn't for _bric-a-brac_ care,
So she traded the lamp
For an Ecuador stamp
That somebody told her was rare!
This act served to madden
The mind of Aladdin,
But, 'spite of his impotent wrath,
His manor-house vanished,
To nothingness banished,
And while he was taking a bath!
The average Arab
Is hard as a scarab
When some one has wounded his pride,
So he jumped up and down,
With a cynical frown,
On the _face_ of his beautiful bride!
He had picked up a cargo
Of curious _argot_
While living in Paris the gay;
In the slang of that city
He cried without pity:
_"Comme ca tu me fich'ras la paix!"_
_The Moral:_ When stamps you're adept on
Of risks you are reckless, and yet
Beware! If your face is once stepped on,
That's the last stamp you're likely to get!
[The end]
Guy Wetmore Carryl's poem: How The Peaceful Aladdin Gave Way To His Madness
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