Om å slamre med dører

Her i selskapet strever vi nåtildags litt med å hjelpe vår gode venn Arnfinn Pettersen med hans blog Den Tvilsomme Humanist. Derfor skjer ting langsommere enn det burde i de utdøddes rike. Men, men, slikt skjer. Og i mellomtiden kan dere verdsette et stykke lærdom fra den lærde Hilaire Bellocs penn:

Rebecca
Who Slammed Doors For Fun And Perished Miserably

A trick that everyone abhors
In little girls is slamming doors.
A wealthy banker's little daughter
Who lived in Palace Green, Bayswater
(By name Rebecca Offendort),
Was given to this furious sport.

She would deliberately go
And slam the door like billy-o!
To make her uncle Jacob start.
She was not really bad at heart,
But only rather rude and wild;
She was an aggravating child...

It happened that a marble bust
Of Abraham was standing just
Above the door this little lamb
Had carefully prepared to slam,
And down it came! It knocked her flat!
It laid her out! She looked like that.

Her funeral sermon (which was long
And followed by a sacred song)
Mentioned her virtues, it is true,
But dwelt upon her vices too,
And showed the deadful end of one
Who goes and slams the door for fun.

The children who were brought to hear
The awful tale from far and near
Were much impressed, and inly swore
They never more would slam the door,
– As often they had done before.

Dyre vaner og dodoer

Blant Deerstalkers dyrere vaner er et medlemskap i The Folio Society, som innebærer at huset langsomt fylles opp av lekre utgaver av klassisk litteratur, nydelig designet og bundet og med egne kassetter til oppevaring. (Har noen et godt norsk ord for slip-case?)

Denne gang trengte Deerstalker bare å kjøpe tre bøker for å få, aldeles gratis, samtlige tre bind av Nortons annoterte utgave av Sherlock Holmes samlede, som den øreklaffede har siklet etter siden den ble utgitt. Så en ny utgave av Bellocs Cautionary Tales er i hus, til Dodofruens store fortvilelse. (Hun blir offer for høytlesninger.)

Og dermed ble Deerstalker minnet om at Belloc jo faktisk har viet dodoen et dikt. Et riktig trist et er det også:

The Dodo
The dodo used to walk around,
And take the sun and air.
The sun yet warms his native ground–
The Dodo is not there!

The voice which used to squawk and squeak
Is now for ever dumb–
Yet may you see his bones and beak
All in the Mu-se-um.

Frosk, til almen forlystelse

Deerstalker er ikke aldeles frisk og trøster seg med fjollete lyrikk. Og hva er vel da bedre enn Hilaire Belloc?

The Frog
Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As "Slimy skin," or "Polly-wog,"
Or likewise "Ugly James,"
Or "Gap-a-grin," or "Toad-gone-wrong,
"Or "Bill Bandy-knees":
The Frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.

No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).