Classic Poem

‘Tra la la la la la la la
La
La!
See me dance the polka,’
Said Mr. Wagg like a bear,
‘With my top hat
And my whiskers that—
(Tra la la la) trap the Fair.

Where the waves seem chiming haycocks
I dance the polka; there
Stand Venus' children in their gay frocks—
Maroon and marine—and stare

To see me fire my pistol
Through the distance blue as my coat;
Like Wellington, Byron, the Marquis of Bristol,
Buzbied great trees float.

While the wheezing hurdy-gurdy
Of the marine wind blows me
To the tune of Annie Rooney, sturdy,
Over the sheafs of sea;

And bright as a seedsman's packet
With zinnias, candytufts chill,
Is Mrs. Marigold's jacket
As she gapes at the inn door still,

Where at dawn in the box of the sailor,
Blue as the decks of the sea,
Nelson awoke, crowed like the cocks,
Then back to dust sank he.

And Robinson Crusoe
Rues so

The bright and foxy beer—
But he finds fresh isles in a Negress' smiles—
The poxy doxy dear,

As they watch me dance the polka,’
Said Mr. Wagg like a bear,
‘In my top hat and my whiskers that—
Tra la la la, trap the Fair.

Tra la la la la—
Tra la la la la—
Tra la la la la la la la
La
La