The Roanoke Times

OBI JING'S TEA.
In the quaint Celestial kingdom, in the realm
of far Cathay.
Where the mighty Yellow river wriggles on its
crooked way,
Once there stood a fair pagoda, where, in truly
regal style,
Dwelt the wealthy merchant Chow Chow, who
in tea had made his pile.
And his only daughter Soo Choo, who was
lovely as a dream
And whose suitors came to woo her in a never
ending stream.
But she gazed upon them coldly, and she told
each one to quit
And to all their ardent pleadings gave a chill
Mongolian "Nit!"
For, of course, there was "another," which is
quite the proper thing,
And
"another" in this instance bore the name
of Obi Jing,
And he ran a lowly laundry, where he labored
day and night.
And the cuffs he starched were spotless, and
the shirts he washed were white.
But the hot and fiery Chow Chow fumed when
Obi came to woo,
And he scarred the latter's trousers with his
plush and satin shoe,
And through teeth which stuck together—he'd
been eating bird's nest soup—
Sputtered bits of "broken China," varied by a
muffled whoop.
Then he swore that blackest ruin was the
vengeance he would wreak.
And no more to Obi's laundry did he send a
shirt a week.
And young Obi, crushed and broken, as he saw
starvation nigh.
Wrote his love a parting letter and went off
to die.
By
the river's bank he wandered, where the
weeping willows wave,
And he murmured, "'Neath yon torrent will
I find a quiet grave."
When a dead leaf, dry and blackened, fluttered
from the willow tree.
And with sudden inspiration Obi seized it,
shrieking "Tea!"
That was years ago, my children, and the legend
now is old.
How the leaves were picked and roasted and,
as tea, were packed and sold
To the white man at a figure that for cheap-
ness "broke the slate."
While young Obi prospered greatly and
grew
rich at wondrous rate.
And he wedded lovely
Soo Choo, and her
cruel pa resigned,
So we see that virtue triumphs, aided by a
brilliant mind.
And, my dears, if any evening you will come
and dine with me
At our boarding house you'll doubtless have a
cup of Obi's tea.
—Nixon Waterman in L. A. W. Bulletin.