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"Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again The five unmistakable marks By which you may know, wheresoever you go, The warranted genuine Snarks. "Let us take them in order. The first is the taste. Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp: Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist. With a flavour of "Its habit of getting up late you'll agree That it carries too far, when I say That it frequently breakfasts at And dines on the following day. "The fourth is its fondness for Which it constantly carries about. And believes that they add to the beauty of A sentiment open to doubt. "The fifth is ambition. It next will be right To describe each particular batch; Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite. From those that have whiskers, and scratch. "For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm. Yet I feel it my duty to say Some are Boojums—"The Bellman broke off in alarm. For the Baker had fainted away.
They roused him with muffins—they roused him with They roused him with mustard and They roused him with jam and judicious They set him conundrums to guess. When at length he sat up and was able to speak. His sad story he offered to tell; And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!" And excitedly tingled his bell. There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream. Scarcely even a howl or a groan. As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe In an antediluvian tone. "My father and mother were honest, though poor—" "Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste. "If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark. We have hardly a minute to waste!" "I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears, "And proceed without further remark To the day when you took me aboard of your ship To help you in hunting the Snark. "A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named) Remarked, when I bade him farewell—" "Oh, skip your dear uncle," the Bellman exclaimed, As he angrily tingled his hell. "He remarked to me then," said the mildest of men, "If your Snark be a Snark, that is right; Fetch it home by all means—you may serve it with greens And it's handy for striking a light. "You may seek it with thimbles—and seek it with care; You may hunt it with forks and hope; You may threaten its life with a You may charm it with smiles and "'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day. If your Snark be a Boojum! For then You will softly and suddenly vanish away And never be met with again!' "It is this, it is that oppresses my soul. When I think of my uncle's last words: And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl Brimming over with quivering curds! "It is this, it is this—" "We have had that before!" The Bellman indignantly said. And the Baker replied "Let me say it once more. It is this, it is this that I dread! "I engage with the Snark—every night after In a dreamy delirious fight: I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes. And I use it for striking a light: "But if ever I met with a Boojum, that day, In a moment (of this I am sure), I shall softly and suddenly vanish And the notion I cannot endure!" The Bellman looked uffish and wrinkled his brow. "If only you'd spoken before! It's excessively awkward to mention it now, With the Snark, so to speak, at the door! "We should all of us grieve, as you well may believe. If you never were met with But surely, my man, when the voyage began, You might have suggested it then? "It's excessively awkward to mention it As I think I've already remarked." And the man they called "Hi!" replied, with a sigh, "I informed you the day we embarked. "You may charge me with murder—or want of (We are all of us weak at times) But the slightest approach to a false pretence Was never among my crimes! "I said it in Hebrew—I said it in I said it in German and Greek: But I wholly forgot (and it vexes me much) That English is what you speak!" |