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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  71 Ode to Fortune

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Halleck and Drake

71 Ode to Fortune

FAIR lady with the bandaged eye!

I ’ll pardon all thy scurvy tricks,

So thou wilt cut me, and deny

Alike thy kisses and thy kicks:

I ’m quite contented as I am,

Have cash to keep my duns at bay,

Can choose between beefsteaks and ham,

And drink Madeira every day.

My station is the middle rank,

My fortune—just a competence—

Ten thousand in the Franklin Bank,

And twenty in the six per cents;

No amorous chains my heart enthrall,

I neither borrow, lend, nor sell;

Fearless I roam the City Hall,

And bite my thumb at Sheriff Bell.

The horse that twice a week I ride

At Mother Dawson’s eats his fill;

My books at Goodrich’s abide,

My country-seat is Weehawk hill;

My morning lounge is Eastburn’s shop,

At Poppleton’s I take my lunch,

Niblo prepares my mutton-chop,

And Jennings makes my whiskey-punch.

When Merry, I the hours amuse

By squibbing Bucktails, Guards, and Balls,

And when I ’m troubled with the blues

Damn Clinton and abuse canals:

Then, Fortune, since I ask no prize,

At least preserve me from thy frown!

The man who don’t attempt to rise

’T were cruelty to tumble down.