HAUNTING RHYMES 



Master of the House <who, having rashly vowed to 

 achieve the task, considers himself bound to see it 

 through himself) is assailed by something very like mis- 

 doubt as he rests awhile upon his spud, blunted by 

 some two hours' punching at sporadic croziers, and com- 

 putes the remaining roods, nay, the acres, still to be 

 dealt with . . . 



If seven men, with seven spuds 

 Should punch for half a year . . . 



Rock of Sisyphus ! Cask of the Danaides ! Hydra of 

 Argolis, with the unquenchable heads ! these and others 

 are similes that fatally drift into his meditations. 



When engaged upon work of protracted and futile itera- 

 tionsuch as " Bracken-chivvying "tags of inane rhymes 

 are apt to invade the hypnotized brain : of the kind that 

 sometimes rise in accompaniment to the steady bumping of 

 railway wheels on certain slow journeys. A particularly 

 haunting one to be conjured off if possible is the 

 " Nightmare" jingle/ Mark Twain's, I believe: 



Punch/, conduc/tor, punch/with care, 

 A green/trip-slip/for a two/cent fare, 

 A pink/trip-slip/for a three/cent fare, 

 Punch/, punch/, punch with care . . . 



and so on relentlessly. 



If these are not the exact horrid words, this is the way 



179 



