Classic Poem

Le petit homme rouge.

Out upon the disaffected!
In the palace am I kept —
Forty years I've been the sweeper —
Near the clock I've always slept
Listen, children: from my corner —
For the sinful life I've led,
Never gadding out — I've seen him,
Seen the Little Man in Red.
Saints of Paradise,
Pray for Charles the Tenth!

Figure to yourselves the demon
All in scarlet — think of that —
Squinting, humpbacked, hair in carrots,
And a snake for his cravat;
Hooked-nosed, and cloven-footed —
When he's singing thereabout
With his croaking voice, the Palace
Looks for turnings inside out
Saints of Paradise,
Pray for Charles the Tenth!

First, in '92 I saw him:
It was when, alas! in dread
Nobles, ay, and prelates, basely
From a kindly master fled
There, in wooden shoes, red cap on,
Came the monster of those days;
And, if on my chair I nodded,
Struck me up the Marseillaise .
Saints of Paradise,
Pray for Charles the Tenth!

I went sweeping on, but shortly
Saw the Imp again appear,
By the gutter come to fright me
For good Mister Robespierre
He was powdered now; and smoother
Than a priest's the words he spoke:
And he hymned the Supreme Being ,
As if humoring the joke
Saints of Paradise,
Pray for Charles the Tenth!

With the " days of terror " over,
I forgot him — songs and all:
But the sight of him forewarned me,
Our good Emperor must fall
Plumed with twenty varied feathers —
Of as many foes to tell —
To a hurdy-gurdy sang he
Henri Quatre , and Gabrielle
Saints of Paradise,
Pray for Charles the Tenth!

Now I've news to tell you, children;
But be sure it doesn't spread:
Thrice, at night again returning;
Have I seen the Man in Red
With his mocking laugh, and chanting
Like a chorister, he bows
To the floor — then pulls his flapper,
Like a Jesuit's, o'er his brows.
Saints of Paradise,
Pray for Charles the Tenth!