Classic Poem

She vowed she'd nothing to declare,
Altho' some forty trunks were there,
And all were filled with objects rare.

The Customs men pried ope the trunks
As solemn as a tribe of monks,
And things came out in solid chunks.

Tiaras, necklaces, and crowns;
A baker's dozen Paris gowns
In lovely pinks, and blues, and browns.

Furs of all kinds from seals to cats;
Three solid hampers filled with hats,
All held in place by wooden slats.

She'd stockings by the dozens—silk,
And open-work, and of that ilk,
As lacy and as white as milk.

And gloves—of gloves I sadly fear
She had enough for forty year—
I know they covered half the pier.

And laces—my, what lace they found!
'Twas hardly half of it unwound
Before it covered all around.

And lingerie—well, I don't know
Just what she had, but this is so:
The pier seemed full of drifted snow!

And so it went, still more and more.
Those trunks revealed a wondrous store
Of lovely objects by the score.

And she as cool as she could be
Sat there and dimpled prettily
At the Inspectors and at me.

A picture of such virtue strong
That not a man in all that throng
Believed her capable of wrong.

“You call this NOTHING , Ma'am?” they said.
She smiled and bowed her pretty head,
As free as Innocence from dread.

“Of course I do,” she made reply.
“They're nothing”—here she winked her eye—
“Compared to what I didn't buy!”

And I'll be sworn, for it is true,
T HOSE DAZED INSPECTORS LET HER THROUGH !