The Best of Archy and Mehitabel

  with babs knows what

  and babs knows why

  archy and mehitabel

  the coming of archy

  the circumstances of Archy’s first appearance are narrated in the following extract from the Sun Dial column of the New York Sun.

  Dobbs Ferry possesses a rat which slips out of his lair at night and runs a typewriting machine in a garage. Unfortunately, he has always been interrupted by the watchman before he could produce a complete story.

  It was at first thought that the power which made the typewriter run was a ghost, instead of a rat. It seems likely to us that it was both a ghost and a rat. Mme. Blavatsky’s ego went into a white horse after she passed over, and someone’s personality has undoubtedly gone into this rat. It is an era of belief in communications from the spirit land.

  And since this matter had been reported in the public prints and seriously received we are no longer afraid of being ridiculed, and we do not mind making a statement of something that happened to our own typewriter only a couple of weeks ago.

  We came into our room earlier than usual in the morning, and discovered a gigantic cockroach jumping about upon the keys.

  He did not see us, and we watched him. He would climb painfully upon the framework of the machine and cast himself with all his force upon a key, head downward, and his weight and the impact of the blow were just sufficient to operate the machine, one slow letter after another. He could not work the capital letters, and he had a great deal of difficulty operating the mechanism that shifts the paper so that a fresh line may be started. We never saw a cockroach work so hard or perspire so freely in all our lives before. After about an hour of this frightfully difficult literary labor he fell to the floor exhausted, and we saw him creep feebly into a nest of the poems which are always there in profusion.

  Congratulating ourself that we had left a sheet of paper in the machine the night before so that all this work had not been in vain, we made an examination, and this is what we found:

  expression is the need of my soul

  i was once a vers libre bard

  but i died and my soul went into the body of a cockroach

  it has given me a new outlook upon life

  i see things from the under side now

  thank you for the apple peelings in the wastepaper basket

  but your paste is getting so stale i can t eat it

  so stale i can t eat it

  there is a cat here called mehitabel i wish you would have

  removed she nearly ate me the other night why dont she

  catch rats that is what she is supposed to be for

  there is a rat here she should get without delay

  most of these rats here are just rats

  but this rat is like me he has a human soul in him

  he used to be a poet himself

  night after night i have written poetry for you

  on your typewriter

  and this big brute of a rat who used to be a poet

  comes out of his hole when it is done

  reads it and sniffs at it

  and reads it and sniffs at it

  he is jealous of my poetry

  he used to make fun of it when we were both human

  he was a punk poet himself

  and after he has read it he sneers

  and then he eats it

  i wish you would have mehitabel kill that rat

  or get a cat that is onto her job

  and i will write you a series of poems showing how things look

  to a cockroach

  that rats name is freddy

  the next time freddy dies i hope he wont be a rat

  but something smaller i hope i will be a rat

  in the next transmigration and freddy a cockroach

  i will teach him to sneer at my poetry then

  dont you ever eat any sandwiches in your office

  i havent had a crumb of bread for i dont know how long

  or a piece of ham or anything but apple parings

  and paste leave a piece of paper in your machine

  every night you can call me archy

  mehitabel was once cleopatra

  boss i am disappointed in

  some of your readers they

  are always asking how does

  archy work the shift so as to get a

  new line or how does archy do

  this or do that they

  are always interested in technical

  details when the main question is

  whether the stuff is

  literature or not

  i wish you would leave

  that book of george moores on

  the floor

  mehitabel the cat and i want to

  read it i have discovered that

  mehitabel s soul formerly inhabited a

  human also at least that

  is what mehitabel is claiming these

  days it may be she got jealous of

  my prestige anyhow she and

  i have been talking it over in a

  friendly way who were you

  mehitabel i asked her i was

  cleopatra once she said well i said i

  i was cleopatra once she said

  suppose you lived in a palace you bet

  she said and what lovely fish dinners

  we used to have and licked her chops

  mehitabel would sell her soul for

  a plate of fish any day i told her i thought

  you were going to say you were

  the favorite wife of the emperor

  valerian he was some cat nip eh

  mehitabel but she did not get me

  archy

  the song of mehitabel

  this is the song of mehitabel

  of mehitabel the alley cat

  as i wrote you before boss

  mehitabel is a believer

  in the pythagorean

  theory of the transmigration

  of the soul and she claims

  that formerly her spirit

  was incarnated in the body

  of cleopatra

  that was a long time ago

  and one must not be

  surprised if mehitabel

  has forgotten some of her

  more regal manners

  i have had my ups and downs

  but wotthehell wotthehell

  yesterday sceptres and crowns

  fried oysters and velvet gowns

  and today i herd with bums

  but wotthehell wotthehell

  i wake the world from sleep

  as i caper and sing and leap

  when i sing my wild free tune

  wotthehell wotthehell

  under the blear eyed moon

  i am pelted with cast off shoon

  but wotthehell wotthehell

  do you think that i would change

  my present freedom to range

  for a castle or moated grange

  wotthehell wotthehell

  cage me and i d go frantic

  my life is so romantic

  capricious and corybantic

  and i m toujours gai toujours gai

  i know that i am bound

  for a journey down the sound

  in the midst of a refuse mound

  but wotthehell wotthehell

  oh i should worry and fret

  death and i will coquette

  there s a dance in the old dame yet

  toujours gai toujours gai

  i once was an innocent kit

  wotthehell wotthehell

  with a ribbon my neck to fit

  and bells tied onto it

  o wotthehell wotthehell

  but a maltese cat came by

  with a come hither look in his eye

  and a song that soared to the sky

  and wotthehell wotthehell

  and i followed adown the street

  the pad of his rhythmical feet

  o permit me agai
n to repeat

  wotthehell wotthehell

  my youth i shall never forget

  but there s nothing i really regret

  wotthehell wotthehell

  there s a dance in the old dame yet

  toujours gai toujours gai

  i followed adown the street the pad of his rhythmical feet

  the things that i had not ought to

  i do because i ve gotto

  wotthehell wotthehell

  and i end with my favorite motto

  toujours gai toujours gai

  boss sometimes i think

  that our friend mehitabel

  is a trifle too gay

  mehitabel s extensive past

  mehitabel the cat claims that

  she has a human soul

  also and has transmigrated

  from body to body and it

  may be so boss you

  remember i told you she accused

  herself of being cleopatra once i

  asked her about antony

  anthony who she asked me are

  you thinking of that

  song about rowley and gammon and

  spinach heigho for anthony rowley

  no i said mark antony the

  great roman the friend of

  caesar surely cleopatra you

  remember j caesar

  listen archy she said i

  have been so many different

  people in my time and met

  so many prominent gentlemen i

  wont lie to you or stall i

  do get my dates mixed sometimes

  think of how much i have had a

  chance to forget and i have

  always made a point of not

  carrying grudges over

  from one life to the next archy

  i have been

  used something fierce in my time but

  i am no bum sport archy

  i am a free spirit archy i

  look on myself as being

  quite a romantic character oh the

  queens i have been and the

  swell feeds i have ate

  a cockroach which you are

  and a poet which you used to be

  archy couldn t understand

  my feelings at having come

  down to this i have

  had bids to elegant feeds where poets

  and cockroaches would

  neither one be mentioned without a

  laugh archy i have had

  adventures but i

  have never been an adventuress

  one life up and the next life

  down archy but always a lady

  through it all and a

  good mixer too always the

  life of the party archy but never

  anything vulgar always free footed

  archy never tied down to

  a job or housework yes looking

  back on it all i can say is

  i had some romantic

  lives and some elegant times i

  have seen better days archy but

  whats the use of kicking kid its

  all in the game like a gentleman

  friend of mine used to say

  toujours gai kid toujours gai he

  was an elegant cat he used

  to be a poet himself and he made up

  some elegant poetry about me and him

  lets hear it i said and

  mehitabel recited

  persian pussy from over the sea

  demure and lazy and smug and fat

  none of your ribbons and bells for me

  ours is the zest of the alley cat

  over the roofs from flat to flat

  we prance with capers corybantic

  what though a boot should break a slat

  mehitabel us for the life romantic

  we would rather be rowdy and gaunt and free

  and dine on a diet of roach and rat

  roach i said what do you

  mean roach interrupting mehitabel

  yes roach she said thats the

  way my boy friend made it up

  i climbed in amongst the typewriter

  keys for she had an excited

  look in her eyes go on mehitabel i

  said feeling safer and she

  resumed her elocution

  we would rather be rowdy and gaunt and free

  and dine on a diet of roach and rat

  than slaves to a tame society

  ours is the zest of the alley cat

  fish heads freedom a frozen sprat

  dug from the gutter with digits frantic

  is better than bores and a fireside mat

  mehitabel us for the life romantic

  when the pendant moon in the leafless tree

  clings and sways like a golden bat

  i sing its light and my love for thee

  ours is the zest of the alley cat

  missiles around us fall rat a tat tat

  but our shadows leap in a ribald antic

  as over the fences the world cries scat

  mehitabel us for the life romantic

  persian princess i dont care that

  for your pedigree traced by scribes pedantic

  ours is the zest of the alley cat

  mehitabel us for the life romantic

  aint that high brow stuff

  archy i always remembered it

  but he was an elegant gent

  even if he was a highbrow and a

  regular bohemian archy him and

  me went aboard a canal boat

  one day and he got his head into

  a pitcher of cream and couldn t get

  it out and fell overboard

  he come up once before he

  drowned toujours gai kid he

  gurgled and then sank for ever that

  was always his words archy toujours

  gai kid toujours gai i

  have known some swell gents

  in my time dearie

  archy interviews a pharaoh

  boss i went

  and interviewed the mummy

  of the egyptian pharaoh

  in the metropolitan museum

  as you bade me to do

  what ho

  my regal leatherface

  says i

  greetings

  little scatter footed

  scarab

  says he

  kingly has been

  says i

  what was your ambition

  when you had any

  insignificant

  and journalistic insect

  says the royal crackling

  greetings little scatter footed scarab says he

  in my tender prime

  i was too dignified

  to have anything as vulgar

  as ambition

  the ra ra boys

  in the seti set

  were too haughty

  to be ambitious

  we used to spend our time

  feeding the ibises

  and ordering

  pyramids sent home to try on

  but if i had my life

  to live over again

  i would give dignity

  the regal razz

  and hire myself out

  to work in a brewery

  old tan and tarry

  says i

  i detect in your speech

  the overtones

  of melancholy

  yes i am sad

  says the majestic mackerel

  i am as sad

  as the song

  of a soudanese jackal

  who is wailing for the blood red

  moon he cannot reach and rip

  on what are you brooding

  with such a wistful

  wishfulness

  there in the silences

  confide in me

  my imperial pretzel

  says i

  i brood on beer
/>
  my scampering whiffle snoot

  on beer says he

  my sympathies

  are with your royal

  dryness says i

  my little pest

  says he

  you must be respectful

  in the presence

  of a mighty desolation

  little archy

  forty centuries of thirst

  look down upon you

  oh by isis

  and by osiris

  says the princely raisin

  and by pish and phthush and phthah

  by the sacred book perembru

  and all the gods

  that rule from the upper

  cataract of the nile

  to the delta of the duodenum

  i am dry

  i am as dry

  as the next morning mouth

  of a dissipated desert

  as dry as the hoofs

  of the camels of timbuctoo

  little fussy face

  i am as dry as the heart

  of a sand storm

  at high noon in hell

  i have been lying here

  and there

  for four thousand years

  with silicon in my esophagus

  and gravel in my gizzard

  thinking

  thinking

  thinking

  of beer

  divine drouth

  says i

  imperial fritter

  continue to think

  there is no law against

  that in this country

  old salt codfish

  if you keep quiet about it

  not yet

  what country is this

  asks the poor prune

  thinking

  thinking

  thinking

  my reverend juicelessness

  this is a beerless country

  says i

  well well said the royal

  desiccation

  my political opponents back home

  always maintained

  that i would wind up in hell

  and it seems they had the right dope

  and with these hopeless words

  the unfortunate residuum

  gave a great cough of despair

  and turned to dust and debris

  right in my face

  it being the only time

  i ever actually saw anybody