by Don Marquis
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
short course in natural history
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
archy protests
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
mehitabel sees it through
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
boss i think mehitabel is mistaken about the milky way
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
mehitabel meets her mate
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 rai
sed 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
mehitabel pulls a party
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
she flung a party in shinbone alley
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
arch your back and caper
and kick at the golden moon
mebby some yeggs
who sell butter and eggs
will fling us a party soon
now then gertie dont get dirty
frankie frankie dont get cranky
and call any lowlife names
remember that you and your sister
were once society dames
and me and nance was debutants
before we was abducted
remember pearl that you was a girl
that a college went and instructed
dont chew the fat with no common cat
for you still got an honored place
oh climb the fence and caper
and kick the moon in the face
oh mebby we all are busted
oh mebby the winters are chill
but all of us girls seen better days
and we are ladies still
remember nell you was once a swell
you was raised a social pet
be careful sweet and act discreet
you may have come down in the world my dear
and you got a cauliflower
onto your ear
but you are a lady yet
meow meow meow
oh wotthell oh wotthell
as i came into the alley
i met a brindle swell
he says to me oh this can be
none but mehitabel
oh willie says i as i passed him by
you know me far too well
then cheerio my deario
prance and pirouette
as long as gents has such intents
theres life in the old world yet
meow meow meow
oh wotthell oh wotthell
i spy you brindle bill
come off the fence you feline gents
theres a dance in the old dame still
meow meow miaow
now then girls no shady jests
here come the gentlemen guests
you try and dance refined
remember you all was ladies born
and still are so inclined
now then sadie dont talk shady
or out you go on your nut
this aint any lousy harlem brawl
this aint any party in webster hall
we gotta recall we are nice girls all
and never was anything but
meow meow meow
archy
not any proof
mehitabel the cat
tells me the feline
tribe were worshipped
in ancient egypt
and for that reason i
should hold her in more
respect
the feline tribe were worshipped in ancient egypt
well says i
minerva burst from
the head of jove
with a heluva yell
but that does not prove
that we should
stand in awe
of every case of
mastoiditis
archy
statesmanship
i was talking
with an insect the
other day about the
hard times that
cockroaches have to
get a living every
mans hand is against them
and occasionally his
foot meals
are few and far between
why in the world
says this
insect do you not
go to the country and become
grasshoppers if
living in town and being
cockroaches is getting
too difficult for you
i was astonished
at the simplicity of the
solution but as i
thought it over it occurred
go to the country and become grasshoppers
to me that
perhaps it sounded more
statesmanlike than it
really was
how i asked him are
cockroaches to become
grasshoppers
that is a mere
detail he said which i
leave to you for
solution i have outlined
the general scheme for your
salvation so do not ask
me to settle the mere
details i trust to you for
that you must do
something for yourself
we philosophers cannot do it all
for you unaided you
must learn self help
but alas i fear that
your inherent stupidity will
balk all efforts
to improve your condition
boss i offer you
this little story
for what it is worth
if you are able to
find in it something
analogous to a number
of easy schemes
for the improvement of the
human race you
may do immense good by
printing it
yours for reform
archy
the author s desk
i climbed upon my boss his desk
to type a flaming ballad
and there i found a heap grotesque
of socks and songs and salad
some swedenborgian dope on hell
with modernistic hunches
remnants of plays that would not jell
and old forgotten lunches
a plate once flushed with pride and pie
now chill with pallid verses
; a corkless jug of ink hard by
sobbed out its life with curses
six sad bedraggled things lay there
inertly as dead cats
three sexless rhymes that could not pair
and three discouraged spats
the feet of song be tender things
like to the feet of waiters
and need when winter bites and stings
sesquipedalian gaiters
peter the pup sprawled on the heap
disputing all approaches
or growled and grumbled in his sleep
or waked and snapped at roaches
i found a treatise on the soul
which bragged it undefeated
and a bill for thirteen tons of coal
by fate left unreceipted
books on the modern girl s advance
wrapped in a cutey sark
with honi soit qui mal y pense
worked for its laundry mark
mid broken glass the spider slinks
while memories stir and glow
of olden happy far off drinks
and bottles long ago
such is the litter at the root
of song and story rising
or noisome pipe or cast off boot
feeding and fertilizing
as lilies burgeon from the dirt
into the golden day
dud epic and lost undershirt
survive times slow decay
still burrowing far and deep i found
a razor coldly soapy
and at the center of the mound
some most surprising opi
some modest pages chaste and shy
for pocket poke or sporran
written by archy published by
doubleday and doran
archy the cockroach
what the ants are saying
dear boss i was talking with an ant
the other day
and he handed me a lot of
gossip which ants the world around
are chewing over among themselves
i pass it on to you
in the hope that you may relay it to other
human beings and hurt their feelings with it
no insect likes human beings
and if you think you can see why
the only reason i tolerate you is because
you seem less human to me than most of them
