Page 28 - Poetry-Family

The Music-Stool

A weary old man with a puzzled face
Went wandering up the market-place,
And he muttered, “I won’t be made a fool,”
And tightly he grasped a music-stool.

He entered a stately furniture-store,
And he set the music-stool down on the floor,
And he said to the clerk, “You may think you’re funny;
But here’s this cheat, and I want my money!”

“What’s the matter, my friend?” asked the gracious clerk;
“Is anything wrong? Can’t you make it work?”
Said the ancient customer: “What did you say?
I did not buy it to work, but to play.

“It was ticketed plain—why, any fool
Could have read the ticket, ‘A music-stool,’
And I bought it yesterday afternoon,
For we’re all of us fond of a right good tune.

“I took it home careful, as you may see,
And they all were pleased as they could be,
And I thought there was nothing at all to learn,
So I set it up and I gave it a turn.

“And I tell you, sir, that, upon my word,
A squeak like a mouse’s was all we heard!
The missus, she looked a little vexed,
But she says, quite pleasant, ‘Let me try next.’

“Well, to cut it short, we all of us tried
There’s six of the children—and some of ‘em cried;
We worked all the rest of the afternoon,
But I’m blest if it gave us the ghost of a tune!

“And I tell you, it’s no more a music-stool
Than the old woman’s wash-bench. I’m perfectly cool,
But you needn’t talk none of your butter and honey;
Here it is, I say, and I want my money!”

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