Douglas Daily Dispatch

I used to picture people who could sculpt
and paint and draw—
I mean of course the very famous sort
As persons one should think of with a reverential awe
As we regard the U. S. supreme court.

I thought that they were dignified, and lofty in their mien
Who would not mix in fracas, brawl or fight,
But like their great creations—stern, aloof, reserved, serene—
And in a lot of cases I was right,

But there was Benvenuto—he could always do his stuff
In a fashion that the critics said was great
But it has to be admitted that the lad was pretty rough
When he once made up his mind to dissipate.

He was handy with his graver, but still handier with his blade,
He could ply his craft an eager month or two,
But a still more zealous pleasure in his efforts he displayed
When engaged on running rival rounders through.

Benvenuto wasn't "arty"; he was fond of talking shop,
But he liked still more to roam about the town
Picking pretty little fusses with some surly Roman cop
Or knocking six or seven watchmen down.

The dignified patricians of that medieval day
Would often hear a row, and call their men,
Equip them with artillery, and speed them on their way
Remarking "Benvenuto's out again."

It's hard to think of sculptors, and the men who draw and paint
As batting round the town the whole night long,
Behaving in a fashion that is quite beyond restraint
And often doing things extremely wrong.

But one can't help admiring any genius laden lad
Who thought the pose of genius was absurd,
And even though his conduct was a little to the bad
I'll say that, Benvenuto was a bird!