The Best of Archy and Mehitabel Page 10

  cockroach the question now

  is where will freddy turn up next will

  he go up or down the scale and

  that has led to the further question as

  to what is up and what is down

  producing considerable dissension all the

  spiders claim they are higher in

  the scale than the cockroaches and that

  lazy cat mehitabel looks on superciliously

  as if confident that she has it on

  all of us spiritually speaking

  well all i have to say is that in

  my case a soul got out of a vers libre

  bard into a cockroach but i have

  known cases which are exactly the

  reverse if you get what i mean

  not that i would name any names

  archy

  short course in natural history

  you should be glad

  you re not a tomcat

  for when all is said

  and done

  you know youd hate

  to pay insurance

  on nine lives instead of one

  be glad you re not

  a centipede

  you might your whole

  ambition lose

  if you had to find

  the cash

  to keep a centipede

  in shoes

  be glad you re not

  a devilfish

  if you had four pairs

  of feet

  what a trail

  you d leave behind you

  when you staggered

  with the heat

  archy

  archy protests

  well boss now youve got

  your desk all cleaned up for the

  first time since ive known you what

  am i going to do for

  a safe retreat in times of dire

  need formerly i could crawl under a

  bushel of poems and mehitabel the

  cat could not find me this

  room is as bare as the inside of

  a drum you might at

  least have left me a tobacco can i

  feel as visible as a hyphen and not

  half so sure of myself

  archy

  mehitabel sees it through

  dear boss i met mehitabel

  last night and asked her if

  she did not think times were getting

  a little better

  she was digging for sustenance in a trash heap

  at the moment and she looked as if

  she might be a part of the heap herself

  one of her legs has been damaged again

  in a light with a rival in love

  but she began to caper when i spoke to her

  and replied as follows

  good times and bad times

  recoveries and depressions

  wotthehell do i care

  as long as somethings doing

  when i lived on salmon

  and oysters stewed in cream

  i wasnt always happy

  when i dug my scoffins

  out of frozen garbage heaps

  i wasnt always sad

  economic problems

  never tell the story

  as far as im concerned

  once i lived a fortnight

  on moonlight wind and grass

  and i danced every evening

  with the shadows in the alley

  and entertained my boy friends

  with my melodious songs

  wotthehell do i care

  if the stomachs empty

  when the spirits full

  i have had my ups

  and i have had my downs

  but whether i was up

  or whether i was down

  there was something in my blood

  that always set it dancing

  and when the blood was jigging

  the feet began to caper

  some day i will voyage

  on top a garbage scow

  just a stiff dead feline

  wreathed in orange peel and melon rinds

  with shop worn salad garnished

  down the bay theyll take me

  to the dumping grounds

  defunct as ancient nut shells

  but wotthehell do i care

  that day has not arrived

  and good times or bad times

  hard times or easy

  there are three good feet

  on old mehitabel

  and she will keep them jigging

  till the grim reaper slices

  two more of them off

  boss i think mehitabel is mistaken about the milky way

  and then she ll dance on one

  till its frozen and resigns

  and then her soul will caper

  along the milky way

  theres a dance or two in the old dame yet

  and the word is toujours gai

  boss i think mehitabel is mistaken

  about the milky way

  i think she is more like to dance

  on hot cinders in the hereafter

  archy

  mehitabel meets her mate

  tis the right of a modern tabby to choose

  the cats who shall father her kits

  and its nice to be sure their pasts have been pure

  and theyre free from fleas or fits

  trial marriage i tried till i thoroughly tired

  and i suffered somewhat from abduction

  and my heart it was broken again and again

  but twas excellent instruction

  i always have been rather awesomely blest

  with the instincts of a mother

  and my life and my fate have been down to date

  one kitten after another

  triplets quadruplets quintuplets

  in a most confusing succession

  and it seems to keep up whether times are good

  or wallowing in depression

  and this is in spite of the terrible fact

  i am not a real home body

  but an artiste who views the domestic career

  as damnably dull and shoddy

  for i am a lady who has her whims

  no tom cat holds my love

  if i come to feel i have plighted my troth

  to a little mauve turtle dove

  but at last i have found my real romance

  through the process of trial and error

  and he is a ribald brute named bill

  one eyed and a holy terror

  his skull is ditched from a hundred fights

  and he has little hair on his tail

  but the son of a gun of a brindled hun

  is indubitably male

  over the fences we frolic and prance

  under the blood red moon

  and sing to the stars we are venus and mars

  as we caper and clutch and croon

  his good eye gleams like a coal of hell

  from the murk of alley or yard

  and the heart that jumps in the cage of his ribs

  is hot and black and hard

  says he as we rocket over the roofs

  can you follow your limber bill

  says i to him my demon slim

  theres a dance in the old dame still

  you pussies that purr on a persian rug

  or mew to some fool for cream

  little you know of the wild delight

  of the outlaws midnight dream

  a fish head filched from a garbage can

  or a milk bottle raided at dawn

  is better than safety and slavery

  you punks that cuddle and fawn

  you can stuff your bellies with oysters and shrimp

  you may have your ribbon and bell

  for bill and me it is liberty

  o wotthehell bill wotthehell

  says he to me old battle axe

  you never was rai
sed a pet

  says i to willie i aint any lily

  but theres pep in the old dame yet

  last night when a bull pup gave us chase

  bill turned and a rip of his claw

  completely unseamed that slavering mutt

  from his chin to his bloody jaw

  we dance with the breeze of the summer nights

  we dance with the winter sleet

  with velvet paws on the velvet shadows

  or whirl with frozen feet

  we riot over the roof of the world

  mehitabel and bill

  you son of a gun of a brindled hun

  theres a dance in the old dame still

  mehitabel pulls a party

  dear boss mehitabel shows

  no evidences of reform

  she flung a party in shinbone alley

  last night and six of the toughest

  tabbies i ever saw were her guests

  all seven of them danced on the ash cans

  flirting their tails in the moonlight

  and chanting as follows

  she flung a party in shinbone alley

  oh wotthell do we care

  if we are down and out

  theres a dance or two in the old janes yet

  so caper and swing about

  up and down the alley

  through and over the fence

  for still we are attractive

  to various feline gents

  meow meow meow

  now then sadie dont talk shady

  try and remember you and myrtie

  that you was raised a lady

  that goes for you too gertie

  oh i was chased down broadway

  by a tom with a ribbon and bell

  i says to him my limber jim

  you seem to know me well

  says he to me oh can it be

  you are mehitabel

  oh wotthell girls wotthell

  as long as the gents is for us

  we still got a job in the chorus

  we aint no maltese flappers

  we all seen better days

  but we got as much it

  as an ingenue kit

  and it is the art that pays

  meow meow meow

  arch your back and caper

  and kick at the golden moon

  mebby some yeggs

  who sell butter and eggs

  will fling us a party soon

  now then gertie dont get dirty

  frankie frankie dont get cranky

  and call any lowlife names

  remember that you and your sister

  were once society dames

  and me and nance was debutants

  before we was abducted

  remember pearl that you was a girl

  that a college went and instructed

  dont chew the fat with no common cat

  for you still got an honored place

  oh climb the fence and caper

  and kick the moon in the face

  oh mebby we all are busted

  oh mebby the winters are chill

  but all of us girls seen better days

  and we are ladies still

  remember nell you was once a swell

  you was raised a social pet

  be careful sweet and act discreet

  you may have come down in the world my dear

  and you got a cauliflower

  onto your ear

  but you are a lady yet

  meow meow meow

  oh wotthell oh wotthell

  as i came into the alley

  i met a brindle swell

  he says to me oh this can be

  none but mehitabel

  oh willie says i as i passed him by

  you know me far too well

  then cheerio my deario

  prance and pirouette

  as long as gents has such intents

  theres life in the old world yet

  meow meow meow

  oh wotthell oh wotthell

  i spy you brindle bill

  come off the fence you feline gents

  theres a dance in the old dame still

  meow meow miaow

  now then girls no shady jests

  here come the gentlemen guests

  you try and dance refined

  remember you all was ladies born

  and still are so inclined

  now then sadie dont talk shady

  or out you go on your nut

  this aint any lousy harlem brawl

  this aint any party in webster hall

  we gotta recall we are nice girls all

  and never was anything but

  meow meow meow

  archy

  not any proof

  mehitabel the cat

  tells me the feline

  tribe were worshipped

  in ancient egypt

  and for that reason i

  should hold her in more

  respect

  the feline tribe were worshipped in ancient egypt

  well says i

  minerva burst from

  the head of jove

  with a heluva yell

  but that does not prove

  that we should

  stand in awe

  of every case of

  mastoiditis

  archy

  statesmanship

  i was talking

  with an insect the

  other day about the

  hard times that

  cockroaches have to

  get a living every

  mans hand is against them

  and occasionally his

  foot meals

  are few and far between

  why in the world

  says this

  insect do you not

  go to the country and become

  grasshoppers if

  living in town and being

  cockroaches is getting

  too difficult for you

  i was astonished

  at the simplicity of the

  solution but as i

  thought it over it occurred

  go to the country and become grasshoppers

  to me that

  perhaps it sounded more

  statesmanlike than it

  really was

  how i asked him are

  cockroaches to become

  grasshoppers

  that is a mere

  detail he said which i

  leave to you for

  solution i have outlined

  the general scheme for your

  salvation so do not ask

  me to settle the mere

  details i trust to you for

  that you must do

  something for yourself

  we philosophers cannot do it all

  for you unaided you

  must learn self help

  but alas i fear that

  your inherent stupidity will

  balk all efforts

  to improve your condition

  boss i offer you

  this little story

  for what it is worth

  if you are able to

  find in it something

  analogous to a number

  of easy schemes

  for the improvement of the

  human race you

  may do immense good by

  printing it

  yours for reform

  archy

  the author s desk

  i climbed upon my boss his desk

  to type a flaming ballad

  and there i found a heap grotesque

  of socks and songs and salad

  some swedenborgian dope on hell

  with modernistic hunches

  remnants of plays that would not jell

  and old forgotten lunches

  a plate once flushed with pride and pie

  now chill with pallid verses

 
; a corkless jug of ink hard by

  sobbed out its life with curses

  six sad bedraggled things lay there

  inertly as dead cats

  three sexless rhymes that could not pair

  and three discouraged spats

  the feet of song be tender things

  like to the feet of waiters

  and need when winter bites and stings

  sesquipedalian gaiters

  peter the pup sprawled on the heap

  disputing all approaches

  or growled and grumbled in his sleep

  or waked and snapped at roaches

  i found a treatise on the soul

  which bragged it undefeated

  and a bill for thirteen tons of coal

  by fate left unreceipted

  books on the modern girl s advance

  wrapped in a cutey sark

  with honi soit qui mal y pense

  worked for its laundry mark

  mid broken glass the spider slinks

  while memories stir and glow

  of olden happy far off drinks

  and bottles long ago

  such is the litter at the root

  of song and story rising

  or noisome pipe or cast off boot

  feeding and fertilizing

  as lilies burgeon from the dirt

  into the golden day

  dud epic and lost undershirt

  survive times slow decay

  still burrowing far and deep i found

  a razor coldly soapy

  and at the center of the mound

  some most surprising opi

  some modest pages chaste and shy

  for pocket poke or sporran

  written by archy published by

  doubleday and doran

  archy the cockroach

  what the ants are saying

  dear boss i was talking with an ant

  the other day

  and he handed me a lot of

  gossip which ants the world around

  are chewing over among themselves

  i pass it on to you

  in the hope that you may relay it to other

  human beings and hurt their feelings with it

  no insect likes human beings

  and if you think you can see why

  the only reason i tolerate you is because

  you seem less human to me than most of them