The Best of Archy and Mehitabel (14 page)

well boss here i

am a cockroach still boss

i have often been disgusted

with life but now i am

even more disgusted

with death and transmigration i

would rather not inhabit

any body at all than

inhabit a cockroachs

body but it seems i

cant escape it that

is my destiny my doom my

punishment

when you struck me that

terrific blow a few

days ago and i

died there at

your feet my first

sensation was one of glad

relief what body will

the soul of archy transmigrate

into now i asked

myself will i go

higher in the scale of

life and inhabit the

body of a butterfly

or a dog or a

bird or will i sink

lower and go into the

carcase of a poison

spider or a politician

i sat on a blade of

grass and waited and wondered

what it would be i

hoped it wouldnt be

anything at all too soon

because if you remember

it was a hot

day and as i sat

on that blade of grass

in my naked soul and

let my feet hang over i

was deliciously

cool try it some of

these hot nights leave

your body in the

bed and go up on the

roof in your

spirit and float around

like a toy balloon its

great stuff well while

i was sitting there

thinking what i

would inhabit next if

it was up to me

personally i had

a swooning sensation

and when i came

to i was in the

flesh again dad gum

it i lifted first

one leg and then

another to see what i

was this time and

imagine my chagrin and

disappointment when i

found myself inside

another cockroach the

exact counterpart of the

one you smashed whats

the use of dying if

it dont get you

anywhere i was so

sore i went and

murdered a tumblebug i

suppose as a cockroach

i was not good enough

to be promoted

and not bad enough to

be set back boss a

thing like that makes a

fellow feel awful humble i

came back to town in

that special delivery letter i

would rather dodge

the thing

they cancel stamps with

all day than walk again

say boss

please thank my friends

for all the kind

words and flowers i

must close in haste there

is a new rat

in your office since i

was here last i

wish you would sprinkle a

little cereal in the

bottom of the waste paper

basket

archy

there is a good deal

of metaphysical discussion going on

amongst my own little group here

i said freddy the rat was no

more he expired at the moment he

slew that tarantula well he had

once been a human and had

transmigrated into a rat just

as i had transmigrated into a

cockroach the question now

is where will freddy turn up next will

he go up or down the scale and

that has led to the further question as

to what is up and what is down

producing considerable dissension all the

spiders claim they are higher in

the scale than the cockroaches and that

lazy cat mehitabel looks on superciliously

as if confident that she has it on

all of us spiritually speaking

well all i have to say is that in

my case a soul got out of a vers libre

bard into a cockroach but i have

known cases which are exactly the

reverse if you get what i mean

not that i would name any names

archy

you should be glad

you re not a tomcat

for when all is said

and done

you know youd hate

to pay insurance

on nine lives instead of one

be glad you re not

a centipede

you might your whole

ambition lose

if you had to find

the cash

to keep a centipede

in shoes

be glad you re not

a devilfish

if you had four pairs

of feet

what a trail

you d leave behind you

when you staggered

with the heat

archy

well boss now youve got

your desk all cleaned up for the

first time since ive known you what

am i going to do for

a safe retreat in times of dire

need formerly i could crawl under a

bushel of poems and mehitabel the

cat could not find me this

room is as bare as the inside of

a drum you might at

least have left me a tobacco can i

feel as visible as a hyphen and not

half so sure of myself

archy

dear boss i met mehitabel

last night and asked her if

she did not think times were getting

a little better

she was digging for sustenance in a trash heap

at the moment and she looked as if

she might be a part of the heap herself

one of her legs has been damaged again

in a light with a rival in love

but she began to caper when i spoke to her

and replied as follows

good times and bad times

recoveries and depressions

wotthehell do i care

as long as somethings doing

when i lived on salmon

and oysters stewed in cream

i wasnt always happy

when i dug my scoffins

out of frozen garbage heaps

i wasnt always sad

economic problems

never tell the story

as far as im concerned

once i lived a fortnight

on moonlight wind and grass

and i danced every evening

with the shadows in the alley

and entertained my boy friends

with my melodious songs

wotthehell do i care

if the stomachs empty

when the spirits full

i have had my ups

and i have had my downs

but whether i was up

or whether i was down

there was something in my blood

that always set it dancing

and when the blood was jigging

the feet began to caper

some day i will voyage

on top a garbage scow

just a stiff dead feline

wreathed in orange peel and melon rinds

with shop worn salad garnished

down the bay theyll take me

to the dumping grounds

defunct as ancient nut shells

but wotthehell do i care

that day has not arrived

and good times or bad times

hard times or easy

there are three good feet

on old mehitabel

and she will keep them jigging

till the grim reaper slices

two more of them off

and then she ll dance on one

till its frozen and resigns

and then her soul will caper

along the milky way

theres a dance or two in the old dame yet

and the word is toujours gai

boss i think mehitabel is mistaken

about the milky way

i think she is more like to dance

on hot cinders in the hereafter

archy

tis the right of a modern tabby to choose

the cats who shall father her kits

and its nice to be sure their pasts have been pure

and theyre free from fleas or fits

trial marriage i tried till i thoroughly tired

and i suffered somewhat from abduction

and my heart it was broken again and again

but twas excellent instruction

i always have been rather awesomely blest

with the instincts of a mother

and my life and my fate have been down to date

one kitten after another

triplets quadruplets quintuplets

in a most confusing succession

and it seems to keep up whether times are good

or wallowing in depression

and this is in spite of the terrible fact

i am not a real home body

but an artiste who views the domestic career

as damnably dull and shoddy

for i am a lady who has her whims

no tom cat holds my love

if i come to feel i have plighted my troth

to a little mauve turtle dove

but at last i have found my real romance

through the process of trial and error

and he is a ribald brute named bill

one eyed and a holy terror

his skull is ditched from a hundred fights

and he has little hair on his tail

but the son of a gun of a brindled hun

is indubitably male

over the fences we frolic and prance

under the blood red moon

and sing to the stars we are venus and mars

as we caper and clutch and croon

his good eye gleams like a coal of hell

from the murk of alley or yard

and the heart that jumps in the cage of his ribs

is hot and black and hard

says he as we rocket over the roofs

can you follow your limber bill

says i to him my demon slim

theres a dance in the old dame still

you pussies that purr on a persian rug

or mew to some fool for cream

little you know of the wild delight

of the outlaws midnight dream

a fish head filched from a garbage can

or a milk bottle raided at dawn

is better than safety and slavery

you punks that cuddle and fawn

you can stuff your bellies with oysters and shrimp

you may have your ribbon and bell

for bill and me it is liberty

o wotthehell bill wotthehell

says he to me old battle axe

you never was raised a pet

says i to willie i aint any lily

but theres pep in the old dame yet

last night when a bull pup gave us chase

bill turned and a rip of his claw

completely unseamed that slavering mutt

from his chin to his bloody jaw

we dance with the breeze of the summer nights

we dance with the winter sleet

with velvet paws on the velvet shadows

or whirl with frozen feet

we riot over the roof of the world

mehitabel and bill

you son of a gun of a brindled hun

theres a dance in the old dame still

dear boss mehitabel shows

no evidences of reform

she flung a party in shinbone alley

last night and six of the toughest

tabbies i ever saw were her guests

all seven of them danced on the ash cans

flirting their tails in the moonlight

and chanting as follows

oh wotthell do we care

if we are down and out

theres a dance or two in the old janes yet

so caper and swing about

up and down the alley

through and over the fence

for still we are attractive

to various feline gents

meow meow meow

now then sadie dont talk shady

try and remember you and myrtie

that you was raised a lady

that goes for you too gertie

oh i was chased down broadway

by a tom with a ribbon and bell

i says to him my limber jim

you seem to know me well

says he to me oh can it be

you are mehitabel

oh wotthell girls wotthell

as long as the gents is for us

we still got a job in the chorus

we aint no maltese flappers

we all seen better days

but we got as much it

as an ingenue kit

and it is the art that pays

meow meow meow