from

Orgoglio and Deirdre

an unfinished Epic-Romance in seventy books
by ARCHIBALD GRYCE LONSDALE (1842-1917)

I. Exhortation of the Huntsman to His Son

Let us no more the Anchovy pursue!
For it is huge and hideous to view,
With razor fangs, a dozen on each side,
And raking claws, and jaws that open wide.

Let us desist, and choose some other prey,
Less dreadful to observe, less hard to slay,
As is the rampant Artichoke, the Smirk,
Or sly Commode, that in the grass doth lurk.

We’ll track the slith’ry Gargle to its den,
Entice young Snorkels from the noisome fen,
We’ll feast on jellied Measles boiled in Sluice,
And wash it down with wild Chi-Hua-Hua juice.

But Anchovy! too perilous is the game:
See, Uncle Frank’s been gored, Aunt May is lame,
And you’ve been eaten, as have parts of me —
Ah, let’s no more pursue the Anchovy!