Ambrose Bierce

(24 June 1842 - 26 December 1913 / Horse Cave Creek, Ohio)

A Celebrated Case - Poem by Ambrose Bierce

Way down in the Boom Belt lived Mrs. Roselle;
A person named Petrie, he lived there as well;
But Mr. Roselle he resided away
Sing tooral iooral iooral iay.

Once Mrs. Roselle in her room was alone:
The flesh of her flesh and the bone of her bone
Neglected the wife of his bosom to woo
Sing tooral iooral iooral ioo.

Then Petrie, her lover, appeared at the door,
Remarking: 'My dear; I don't love you no more.'
'That's awfully rough,' said the lady, 'on me-
Sing tooral iooral iooral iee.'

'Come in, Mr. Petrie,' she added, 'pray do:
Although you don't love me no more, I love you.
Sit down while I spray you with vitriol now
Sing tooral iooral iooral iow.'

Said Petrie: 'That liquid I know won't agree
With my beauty, and then you'll no longer love me;
So spray and be '-O, what a word he did say!-
Sing tooral iooral iooral iay.

She deluged his head and continued to pour
Till his bonny blue eyes, like his love, were no more.
It was seldom he got such a hearty shampoo
Sing tooral iooral iooral ioo.

Then Petrie he rose and said: 'Mrs. Roselle,
I have an engagement and bid you farewell.'
'You see,' she began to explain-but not he!
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iee.

The Sheriff he came and he offered his arm,
Saying, 'Sorry I am for disturbin' you, marm,
But business is business.' Said she, 'So they say
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iay.'

The Judge on the bench he looked awfully stern;
The District Attorney began to attorn;
The witnesses lied and the lawyers-O my!-
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iyi.

The chap that defended her said: 'It's our claim
That he loved us no longer and told us the same.
What else than we did could we decently do?
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral ioo.'

The District Attorney, sarcastic, replied:
'We loved you no longer-that can't be denied.
Not having no eyes we may dote on you now-
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iow.'

The prisoner wept to entoken her fears;
The sockets of Petrie were flooded with tears.
O heaven-born Sympathy, bully for you!
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral ioo.

Four jurors considered the prisoner mad,
And four thought her victim uncommonly bad,
And four that the acid was all in his eye
Sing rum tiddy iddity iddity hi.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 27, 2012

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