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From The World’s Wit and Humor, Volume I, American; The Review of Reviews Company; New York; 1906; pp. 149-150.


American Wit and Humor

Albert Gorton Greene (1802-1868)

Old Grimes

Old Grimes is dead; that good old man
    We never shall see more:
He used to wear a long, black coat,
    All button’d down before.

His heart was open as the day,
    His feelings all were true;
His hair was some inclined to gray —
    He wore it in a queue.

Whene’er he heard the voice of pain,
    His breast with pity burn’d:
The large, round head upon his cane
    From ivory was turn’d.

Kind words he ever had for all;
    He knew no base design:
His eyes were dark and rather small,
    His nose was aquiline.

He lived at peace with all mankind,
    In friendship he was true:
His coat had pocket-holes behind,
    His pantaloons were blue.

Unharm’d, the sin which earth pollutes
    He pass’d securely o’er.
150 And never wore a pair of boots
    For thirty years or more.

But good old Grimes is now at rest,
    Nor fears misfortune’s frown:
He wore a double-breasted vest —
    The stripes ran up and down.

He modest merit sought to find,
    And pay at its desert:
He had no malice in his mind,
    No ruffles on his shirt.

His neighbors he did not abuse —
    Was sociable and gay:
He wore large buckles on his shoes,
    And changed them every day.

His knowledge, hid from public gaze,
    He did not bring to view,
Nor made a noise, town-meeting days,
    As many people do.

His wordly goods he never threw
    In trust to fortune’s chances,
But lived (as all his brothers do)
    In easy circumstances.

Thus undisturb’d by anxious cares,
    His peaceful moments ran;
And everybody said he was
    A fine old gentleman.


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