IN my collection famed of curios
I have, as every bookman knows,
A pen that Thackeray once used.
To be amused,
I thought I'd "take that pen in hand,"
And see what came of it—what grand
Inspired lines 'twould write,
One Sunday night.
I dipped it in the ink,
And tried to think,
"Just what shall I indite?"
And do you know, that pen went fairly mad;
A dreadful time with it I had.
It spluttered, spattered, scratched, and blotted so,
I had to give it up, you know.
It really wouldn't work for me,
And so I put it down; but last night, after tea,
I took it up again,
And equally in vain.
The hours sped;
I went to bed,
And in my dreams the pen came up to me and said:
"Here is the list of Asses who have tried
To take up pens the master laid aside;
Look thou!" I looked, and lo!—perhaps you've guessed—
My name, like Abou Ben's, led all the rest!