The Height of the Ridiculous

I wrote some lines once on a time     In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say     They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer,     I laughed as I would die; Albeit, in the general way,     A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came;     How kind it was of him To mind a slender man like me,     He of the mighty limb. “These to the printer,” I exclaimed,     And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest,)     “There ’ll be the devil to pay.” He took the paper, and I watched,     And saw him peep within; At the first line he read, his face     Was all upon the grin. He read the next; the grin grew broad,     And shot from ear to ear; He read the third; a chuckling noise     I now began to hear. The fourth; he broke into a roar;     The fifth; his waistband split; The sixth; he burst five buttons off,     And tumbled in a fit. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,     I watched that wretched man, And since, I never dare to write     As funny as I can.