The Overworked Elocutionist by Unknown Author









The Overworked Elocutionist
by Unknown Author

(Or "ROBERT REESE")

Once there was a little boy
Whose name was Robert Reese,
And every Friday afternoon
He had to speak a piece.

So many poems thus he learned
That soon he had a store
Of recitations in his head
And still kept learning more.

Now this it is what happened:
He was called upon one week
And totally forgot the piece
He was about to speak.

His brain he vainly cudgeled
But no word was in his head,
And so he spoke at random,
And this is what he said;

My beautiful, my beautiful,
Who standest proudly by,
It was the schooner Hesperus
The breaking waves dashed high.

Why is the Forum crowded?
What means this stir in Rome?
Under a spreading chestnut tree
There is no place like home.

When Freedom from her mountain height
Cried, "Twinkle, little star,"
Shoot if you must this old gray head,
King Henry of Navarre.

If you're waking, call me early
To be or not to be,
Curfew must not ring to-night,
Oh, woodman, spare that tree.

Charge, Chester, Charge! On, Stanley, on!
And let who will be clever,
The boy stood on the burning deck
But I go on for ever.