True follower of the great Prophet
          Without any blemish or taint,
Quite orthodox, pious, "Great Tophet!"
          Yes, I am a Latter Day Saint.

My mansion is all full of chickens,
          I love every one of my wives;
Of late they have eaten queer pickin's.
          They scratch—see them scratch, each one strives
          To outscratch the bunch, they have hives.

The first girl I married, sweet Lulu,
          Oh my! Such a dumpling, one corker,
High stepper, stuck up like a Zulu,
          But also a nice little porker.

Fat Lulu, obedient worker,
          Affectionate, eager to learn,
Neat housewife, was never a shirker,
          She fried the lamb chops to a turn,
          And never let anything burn.
          'Til one day, by chance, I did learn
          The dead rat was found in the churn.

Yes, after a while Lulu strangled
          My love, she became one stale plodder.
Her cooking, now rank, she entangled
          My tonsils with very queer fodder.
          My poor aching heart bled in sodder.

While resting one day in the gutter,
          I suddenly felt my pulse quicken,
That rustle, my heart gave a flutter,
          I thought it must be a stray chicken.

'Twas certainly something with feathers,
          Some bird, chicken, angel or drake,
Accustomed to all kinds of weathers,
          All flutters without any brake.

I rubbered my neck looking over
          My shoulder. I thought I'd observe
Some species of partridge or plover,
          And there stood a Cherub all curve,
          Quite cheeky and all full of nerve.

The Cherub with one graceful swish
          Of feathery wing, drew a knife
And said, "Oh you tame 'flying fish',
          It's time that you take one more wife.
          See this knife? On your life time is rife."

The Cherub continued, "Oh Elder!
          The Lord says again you must marry.
The Lord sticks the dart, has compelled her
          To give you her heart, I mean Carrie.
          So hurry up, Elder, don't parry,
          Wed Carrie at once, never tarry."

Oh rapture, oh foretaste of Heaven!
          The Cherub now danced me a jig,
Two steps to the left and then seven
          Around to the right like a big
Hop Turvy Drop Tumble—the sprig!

The Cherub repeated, "Wed Carrie,
          The law has decided you must.
Two wives must you feed, quickly marry
          Young Carrie, or else you will bust.
Your soul will belong to Old Harry,
          You never will be upper crust.
Hop up, marry Carrie, don't tarry;
          Or go to the Devil and rust.
Two wives (for the present) no trust.

"Thy duty, dear Mormon—no taint
          Should jar thee, nor mar my decision.
Be careful, thou Latter Day Saint,
'Tis time to obscure the sweet vision
This Elf, yes myself must skedaddle.
Pray don't think my words are all twaddle;
          Farewell, dearest Elder, farewell,
          Be careful and don't go to Hell."

The cherub now vanished through space
          While I feeling ticklish queer,
Made off at a rattling pace.
          I soon drank a gallon of beer,
          Delighting my heart with its cheer.

I'll never forget the tongue lashing
          I got when I told my first spouse
To get things in order, that dashing,
          Fair Carrie as meek as a mouse,
          Would soon be the head of my house.

Fat Lulu said, "Drat the fair Carrie,
          The minx, wait, I'll give her the rap.
What! Carrie, that she-wolf—you marry?
          I'll scratch Carrie quite off the map."

          Oh Hooky! poor wifie, one struggle—
          Dear Lulu lay over my lap—
Another slight kick—soon I juggle
          The drapery off—now rap, rap,
          I paddle her well with a strap.

Soon after the spanking her eyes
          Were gentle, she gave me no sass.
It all was a grateful surprise,
          And now one strange thing came to pass.
She kissed me. I gave her a prize,
          Two earrings of gold (made of brass).
She knelt, wept aloud, oh such cries!
          She said she'd be good (poor jackass)!
I petted her, made her arise.
          She thanked me, another first class
Kiss, there where the beer clings, Alas!
          So much for those earrings all brass.

The cure, though severe, did its work,
          It sobered her up, smoothing lumps,
And then we three went to the Kirk,
          Myself, Lulu, Carrie—all grumps.
All fits of the dumps took to slumps,
          And when I got home I cut trumps
          And paddled them over their rumps.
They thought me a weakling, I ain't;
But just one plain Latter Day Saint.

I let Carrie know I was boss,
          I put her at once in her place.
I made Carrie work like a horse.
          I found her a very hard case.
She wanted to wear velvet coats,
          Expecting her three meals per day.
You can't feed your women on oats,
          Because if you do they will bray
          And baulk like a sow, all decay.

All this happened long, long ago.
          Fat Lulu the corker survives,
Elastic with health, plastic dough.
          I'll read you a list of my wives.

There's Bridget, the Irish canary.
          Lame Susie I'm always selecting
To kick (our old Mother Cary)
          With such a big flock. I'm erecting
The Whipping Post. Let the unwary
          Beware! There will be much correcting.
Oh, thou erring wifie will nary
          Escape. I spank each naughty fairy.

There's pretty Matilda, all dimples,
          And Emma, the bird from Rhinebeck,
And gentle Rosanna, all pimples,
          And Bess with the boil on her neck.

There's Ethelred, coaxing and catching,
          So artless—the cute little witch.
And Isadore, all the time scratching,
          She seems to be troubled with itch.

Belinda, Lucinda and Molly-
          Are each a fine peach in their way.
          Cordelia, Ophelia and Polly
The same, while Irene is a jay
Who often must pay for some folly,
          Shut up in a closet all day.

And as for my numerous offspring—
          Oh give me a rest, fly a kite,
Send out the alarm, ting it off, ring,
          I don't know my children by sight.
Say, give me a drink. Blow it off, sing
          All praise to the Latter Day Sprite!

          My castle is curious, quaint
          My kingdom as strong as a rock,
They call me a beast, but I ain't,
          I simply look after my flock.
I'm only a plum without paint;
          My wives have to work by the clock.
Oh, I. am a Latter Day Saint,
          The pride of the Shrine, I don't crock.

                   Greeting, greeting,
                        Hear that knocking;
                   Come to meeting,
                        Nothing crocking.
                                    Amen.

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