The Ballad Of The Murdered Merchant

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All stark and cold the merchant lay,
 All cold and stark lay he.
And who hath killed the fair merchant?
 Now tell the truth to me.

Oh, I have killed this fair merchant
 Will never again draw breath;
Oh, I have made this fair merchant
 To come unto his death.

Oh, why hast thou killed this fair merchant
 Whose corpse I now behold?
And why hast caused this man to lie
 In death all stark and cold?

Oh, I have killed this fair merchant
 Whose kith and kin make moan,
For that he hath stolen my precious time
 When he useth the telephone.

The telephone bell rang full and clear;
 The receiver did I seize.
"Hello!" quoth I, and quoth a girl,
 "Hello! . . . One moment, please."

I waited moments ane and twa,
 And moments three and four,
And then I sought the fair merchant
 And spilled his selfish gore.

That business man who scorneth to waste
 His moments sae rich and fine
In calling a man to the telephone
 Shall never again waste mine!

And every time a henchwoman
 Shall cause me a moment's loss,
I'll forthwith fare to that office
 And stab to death her boss.

Rise up! Rise up! thou blesséd knight!
 And off thy bended knees!
Go forth and slay all folk who make
 Us wait "One moment, please."

© Franklin Pierce Adams