Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MYSTIFIED QUAKER IN NEW YORK, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MYSTIFIED QUAKER IN NEW YORK, by                    
First Line: Respected wife: by these few lines my whereabouts thee'll learn
Last Line: So I left them in disgust: plain-spoken men like me / with such perverters of our tongue can have no
Subject(s): "friends, Religious Society Of;new York City;speech;" "quakers;manhattan;new York, New York;the Big Apple;oratory;orators;


RESPECTED WIFE: By these few lines my where-
abouts thee'll learn:
Moreover, I impart to thee my serious concern.
The language of this people is a riddle unto me;
For words with them are figments of a reckless
mockery.
For instance, as I left the cars, a youth with
smutty face
Said, "Shine?” “Nay, I'll not shine,” I said,
"except with inward grace.”
"What's inward grace?” said this young Turk;
"A liquid or a paste? Hi, daddy, how does the
old thing work?”
I then said to a jehu, whose breath suggested gin,
"Friend, can thee take me to a reputable inn?"
But this man's gross irrelevance I shall not soon
forget;
Instead of simply Yea or Nay, he gruffly said,
"You bet!"
"Nay, nay, I will not bet," I said, "for that would
be a sin.
Why dost not answer plainly? can thee take me
to an inn?
Thy vehicle is doubtless made to carry folks about
in;
Why then prevaricate?" Said he, "Aha! well
now, you're shoutin'!"
"I did not shout," I said, "my friend; surely my
speech is mild:
But thine (I grieve to say it) with falsehood is
defiled.
Thee ought to be admonished to rid thy heart of
guile."
"Look here, my lovely moke," said he, "you sling
on too much style."
"I've had these plain drab garments twenty years
or more," said I;
"And when thee says I 'sling on style' thee tells
a wilful lie."
With that he pranced about as tho' a bee were in
his bonnet,
And with hostile demonstrations inquired if I was
"on it."
"On what? Till thee explain, I cannot tell," I
said;
But he swore that something was "too thin,"
moreover it was "played."
But all his antics were surpassed in wild ab-
surdity
By threats, profanely emphasized, to "put a
head" on me.
"No son of Belial," I said, "that miracle can do."
With that he fell upon me with blows and curses
too;
But failed to work that miracle, if such was his
design;
Instead of putting on a head, he strove to smite
off mine.
Thee knows that I profess the peaceful precepts
of our sect,
But this man's acts worked on me to a curious
effect;
And when he knocked my broad-brim off, and
said, "How's that for high!"
It roused the Adam in me, and I smote him hip
and thigh.
This was a signal for the crowd, for calumny
broke loose;
They said I'd "snatched him bald-headed," and
likewise "cooked his goose."
But yet I do affirm, that I had not pulled his
hair;
Nor had I cooked his poultry, for he had no
poultry there.
They called me "bully box'" though I have seen
full three-score year;
And they said that I was "lightning when I got
upon my ear."
And when I asked if lightning climbed its ear,
and dressed in drab,
"You know how 't is yourself," said one insolent
young blab.
So I left them in disgust: plain-spoken men like
me
With such perverters of our tongue can have no
unity.




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