Inexpensive Guests

I wonder how 'twould make you feel,
My fellow food providers,
To have as guests at ev'ry meal
Three - count 'em, three - outsiders.

Well, that's the case with me, but still
I don't complain or holler,
For, strange to say, the groc'ry bill
Has not gone up a dollar.

These guests of ours, to make it brief,
Can't really chew or swallow;
They're merely dolls, called Indian Chief,
And Funny Man, and Rollo.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Ringgold Wilmer 'Ring' Lardner was an American sports columnist and short story writer best known for his satirical takes on sports figures and the cultural mores of the Jazz Age. Born on March 6, 1885, in Niles, Michigan, he began his career as a journalist but soon gained fame for his humorous and poignant short stories. His works often featured the American slang vernacular and painted an evocative picture of early 20th-century American life. Lardner passed away on September 25, 1933.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

His Memory

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

The Grocery Man And The Bear

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

An Appreciative Audience

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Mrs. Merdle At Home.

She Discourseth of Nothing to Eat and the Cost thereof.

Why Merdle--why did you bring Dinewell to-day?
So very, though welcome, so quite unexpected!

For dinner, if any, I'm sure I can't say,
Our servants with washing are all so infected.

If any's provided, 't is nothing but scraps
Of pot-luck or pick up of some common fare;
Or something left over from last week perhaps,
Which you've brought a friend, and an old one, to share.

I never, I'm sure now, so much was ashamed,
To think he'll discover--what's true to the letter--
We've nothing, or next to't that's fit to be named,
For one who is used every day to what's better.

But what can you expect if you come on a Monday?
Our French cook's away too, I vow and declare--
But if you would see ...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Good-By Bill

Dollar Bill, that I've held so tight
Ever since payday, a week ago,
Shall I purchase with you tonight
A pair of seats at the vaudeville show?
(Hark! A voice from the easy chair:
"Look at his shoes! We must buy a pair.")

Dollar Bill, from the wreckage saved,
Tell me, how shall I squander you?
Shall I be shined, shampooed and shaved,
Singed and trimmed 'round the edges, too?
(Hark! A voice from the easy chair:
"He hasn't a romper that's fit to wear.")

Dollar Bill, that I cherished so,
Think of the cigarettes you'd buy,
Turkish ones, with a kick, you know;
Makin's eventually tire a guy.
(Hark! A voice from the easy chair:
"Look at those stockings! Just one big tear!")

Dollar Bill, it is time to part.
What do I care for a vaudevill...

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

A Visit From Young Gloom

There's been a young stranger at our house,
A baby whom nobody knew;
Who hated his brother, his father, his mother,
And made them aware of it, too.

He stayed with us nearly a fortnight
And carried a grouch all the while,
Nor promise nor present could make him look pleasant;
He hadn't the power to smile.

He cried when he couldn't have something;
He cried just as hard when he could;
Kind words by the earful but made him more tearful,
And scoldings did just as much good.

He stormed when his meals weren't ready,
And when they were ready, he screamed.
He went to bed growling, got up again howling
And quarreled and snarled as he dreamed.

He's gone, and the child we are fond of
Is back, just as nice as of old.
But I hope to be in som...

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

An Appreciative Audience

My son, I wish that it were half
As easy to extract a laugh
From grown-ups as from thee.
Then I'd go on the stage, my boy,
While Richard Carle and Eddie Foy
Burned up with jealousy.

I wouldn't have to rack my brain
Or lie awake all night in vain
Pursuit of brand new jokes;
Nor fear my lines were heard with groans
Of pain and sympathetic moans
From sympathetic folks.

I'd merely have to make a face,
Just twist a feature out of place,
And be the soul of wit;
Or bark, and then pretend to bite,
And, from the screams of wild delight,
Be sure I'd made a hit.

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

Hesitation

I've orders to waken you from your nap,
And orders are orders, my little chap.
But I hate to do it, because it seems
A shame to break in on your blissful dreams.

I've sat and watched you a long, long while,
And not since I came have you ceased to smile.
So it strikes me as wrong to arouse you, boy,
From sleep that's so plainly a sleep of joy.

'Twill make a big diff'rence tonight, of course,
But p'rhaps you are riding a real live horse;
In dreams, it's a pleasant and harmless sport,
So why should I cruelly cut it short?

Maybe you have for your very own
A piece of pie or an ice cream cone;
If that's your amusement, why end it quick?
Dream-food can't possibly make you sick.

Orders are orders and I'm afraid
It's trouble for me if they'...

Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

To A Certain Critic

Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind
When I my homely dish with care designed;
'Twas certain humble souls I would have fed
Who do not turn from wholesome milk and bread:
You came, slow-trotting on the narrow way,
O'erturned the food, and trod it in the clay;
Then low with discoid nostrils sniffing curt,
Cried, "Sorry cook! why, what a mess of dirt!"

George MacDonald