<h2><SPAN name="page200"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>THE THREE KINGS OF CHICKERABOO</h2>
<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">There</span> were three
niggers of Chickeraboo—<br/>
<span class="smcap">Pacifico</span>, <span class="smcap">Bang-bang</span>, <span class="smcap">Popchop</span>—who<br/>
Exclaimed, one terribly sultry day,<br/>
“Oh, let’s be kings in a humble way.”</p>
<p class="poetry">The first was a highly-accomplished
“bones,”<br/>
The next elicited banjo tones,<br/>
The third was a quiet, retiring chap,<br/>
Who danced an excellent break-down “flap.”</p>
<p class="poetry">“We niggers,” said they,
“have formed a plan<br/>
By which, whenever we like, we can<br/>
Extemporise kingdoms near the beach,<br/>
And then we’ll collar a kingdom each.</p>
<p class="poetry">“Three casks, from somebody else’s
stores,<br/>
Shall represent our island shores,<br/>
Their sides the ocean wide shall lave,<br/>
Their heads just topping the briny wave.</p>
<p class="poetry">“Great Britain’s navy scours the
sea,<br/>
And everywhere her ships they be;<br/>
She’ll recognise our rank, perhaps,<br/>
When she discovers we’re Royal Chaps.</p>
<p class="poetry">“If to her skirts you want to cling,<br/>
It’s quite sufficient that you’re a king;<br/>
She does not push inquiry far<br/>
To learn what sort of king you are.”</p>
<p class="poetry">A ship of several thousand tons,<br/>
And mounting seventy-something guns,<br/>
Ploughed, every year, the ocean blue,<br/>
Discovering kings and countries new.</p>
<p class="poetry">The brave <span class="smcap">Rear-Admiral
Bailey Pip</span>,<br/>
Commanding that magnificent ship,<br/>
Perceived one day, his glasses through,<br/>
The kings that came from Chickeraboo.</p>
<p class="poetry">“Dear eyes!” said <span class="smcap">Admiral Pip</span>, “I see<br/>
Three flourishing islands on our lee.<br/>
And, bless me! most remarkable thing!<br/>
On every island stands a king!</p>
<p class="poetry">“Come, lower the Admiral’s
gig,” he cried,<br/>
“And over the dancing waves I’ll glide;<br/>
That low obeisance I may do<br/>
To those three kings of Chickeraboo!”</p>
<p class="poetry">The Admiral pulled to the islands three;<br/>
The kings saluted him gracious<i>lee</i>.<br/>
The Admiral, pleased at his welcome warm,<br/>
Unrolled a printed Alliance form.</p>
<p class="poetry">“Your Majesty, sign me this, I
pray—<br/>
I come in a friendly kind of way—<br/>
I come, if you please, with the best intents,<br/>
And <span class="smcap">Queen Victoria’s</span>
compliments.”</p>
<p class="poetry">The kings were pleased as they well could
be;<br/>
The most retiring of the three,<br/>
In a “cellar-flap” to his joy gave vent<br/>
With a banjo-bones accompaniment.</p>
<p class="poetry">The great <span class="smcap">Rear-Admiral
Bailey Pip</span><br/>
Embarked on board his jolly big ship,<br/>
Blue Peter flew from his lofty fore,<br/>
And off he sailed to his native shore.</p>
<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Admiral Pip</span> directly
went<br/>
To the Lord at the head of the Government,<br/>
Who made him, by a stroke of a quill,<br/>
<span class="smcap">Baron de Pippe</span>, <span class="smcap">of
Pippetonneville</span>.</p>
<p class="poetry">The College of Heralds permission yield<br/>
That he should quarter upon his shield<br/>
Three islands, <i>vert</i>, on a field of blue,<br/>
With the pregnant motto “Chickeraboo.”</p>
<p class="poetry">Ambassadors, yes, and attachés, too,<br/>
Are going to sail for Chickeraboo.<br/>
And, see, on the good ship’s crowded deck,<br/>
A bishop, who’s going out there on spec.</p>
<p class="poetry">And let us all hope that blissful things<br/>
May come of alliance with darky kings,<br/>
And, may we never, whatever we do,<br/>
Declare a war with Chickeraboo!</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />