And Doctor Brown grew deadly pasty--
"Now see the mischief that you've done,--
You Turks are so extremely hasty.

"There are two Doctor Browns in Hooe,
_He's_ short and stout--_I'm_ tall and wizen;
You've been and run the wrong one through,
That's how the error has arisen."

The accident was thus explained,
Apologies were only heard now:
"At my mistake I'm really pained,
I am, indeed, upon my word now."

"With me, sir, you shall be interred,
A Mausoleum grand awaits me"--
"Oh, pray don't say another word,
I'm sure that more than compensates me.

"But, p'r'aps, kind Turk, you're full inside?"
"There's room," said he, "for any number."
And so they laid them down and died.
In proud Stamboul they sleep their slumber.





SONGS OF A SAVOYARD