“SALTOKOFF SKUPCHIROFSKY,” said the ruler
Of Russia to his captain of the guard,
“I will retire; the night is growing cooler
Have all the troops been posted in the yard?”
“They have, my liege, and in the tower o’er you
The watchman, with an opera-glass, afar
Looks out to see that no one comes to bore you:
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”
“What have you done with him who came this morning,
And wanted me to buy a lightning-rod?”
“He sleeps beneath the Neva, as a warning
To others like him, not as yet in quod.”
“The girl who bored us for a contribution
To send her blessed clergyman afar?”
“She’s strangled by the Seventh Resolution:
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”
“And where is he who gave us the conniptions,
That cheeky man from the United States,
Who came unto my bedside for subscriptions
To—what was it?—the ‘Life of Sergeant Bates’?”
“Upon a special train that man is flying
Unto Siberia in a third-class car;
Thou badest him ‘dry up!’ and he is drying:
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”
“And where is he who bored us for insurance
On life or fire, who down the chimney came?”
“My liege, beneath our feet in deepest durance
He pays with penance for his little game.”
“And, after him, the pedlar who came plungin’
Into the parlour, smoking a cigar?”
“Ask of the vipers in the palace dungeon:
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”
“And that young man who always kept a-saying,
‘That is the kind of hair-pin that I am’?”
“My liege, the strychnine in his vitals playing
May tell you how I stopped that kind of flam.
“And he who at this day is still repeating,
‘What, never, never?’” “In a butt of tar
We coopered him. His heart’s no longer beating:
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”
“And where is he who on the imperial fences
Inscribed Pop’s Bitters, and Take Fooler’s Pills?”
“My lord, his medicines were no defences,
In Hades he atones for earthly ills.”
“And that confounded nuisance of a Scotch Guard
Who played the bagpipes up and down the car?”
“My lord, the imperial headsman wears his watch-guard:
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”
“Captain, ’tis well. Now telegraph to London
That every Nihilist has had his dose,
And that a fresh conspiracy is undone,
And keep the gum-drop, corn-ball peddlers close
Who spread sedition in the trains to ’stress me;
And keep the gates of anarchy ajar;
So may Saint Feoderskidobry bless thee!
Bogu Tsarachnie! God protect the Tsar!”