WHAT SORT ARE YOU?

“How much do you want for your A. Street lot?”

Said a real estate man to me.

I looked as if I were lost in thought

And then I replied: “Let's see;—

Black's sold last year at fifty the foot

And without using algebra that should put

My figure at sixty now, I guess,

Or a trifle more, or a trifle less.”

I was anxious to sell at fifty straight,

Or I might have been glad of forty-eight.

Oh, yes, I'm a bit of a bluff, it's true;

What sort of a bluff are you?

“And what do you think of these railroad rates?”

The man with a bald brow said,

“For you have travelled through all the states

And have heard a good deal and read.”

“The railroad lines,” I wisely replied

“Are the lines with which our trade is tied,

And the wretches who take their rebates set

New knots in the bonds under which we fret.”

But, now I remember, I once rode free

And forgot that the road rebated me!

Oh, yes, I'm a bit of a bluff, its true;

How much of a bluff are you?

“You've been to hear‘ Siegfried’ and found it fine?”

Cried a classical friend one day.

“I'm sure your impressions accord with mine,

But I want your own words and way.

And, oh, “the tone-color beats belief,”

And, oh, “dynamics,” and oh, “motif,”

And “chiar-oscura, how finely abstruse,”

And oh, la-la-la, and oh, well, what's the use?

For the only thing I understood in the play

Was that dippy, old dragon of papier-mache.

Oh, yes, I'm a bit of a bluff, it's true;

What style of a bluff are you?

“And the senator should, you believe, be returned?”

Said a newspaper-man to me.

“He's as rotten a rascal as ever burned,”

I said. “May I quote?” asked he.

“Oh, no,” I replied, “if you're going to quote,

Just remark that his friends are regretting to note

That the exigencies of the party case

Indicate that he should n't re-enter the race.”

For the senator sometime may possibly be

Interviewed by a newspaper-man about me.

No, none of these cases may quite fit you,

But what sort of a bluff are you?