CHICAGO MAY
He took the name of Bailey Bey
‘And tried to bilk Chicago May.
Alas| he found her pearls were sham,
Heer jewels coloured glass :—
But not until my Mary's lamb
Had been baptized an ass.
Before the booby could say “ knife”
He found that Mary was his wife!
So now by night it’s baccarat,
By noon it is blackmail,
‘Until some windy grandpapa
Arrives to swell their sail—
A combination gambling-hell
And brothel near the Tour Eiffel.
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Praise the Lord, O my soul! praise the Lord!
Praise Him, the Father and the Friend of all,
Whose service is its own most rich reward,
Who never lets a saint or sparrow fall
From the lions’ den He saved their prophet prey,
And me—O praise Him !—from Chicago May.
See! the grey billows flame between us now!
“Beware of pickpockets, male and female”
Moves me to laughter: from the poet's brow
The veil of sorrow drops ; far, pure, and pale
Flames the imagined Goddess—woe is me!
Asperge me hyssopo, Domine!