Ode To Magic

by MAX ANDREWS

I've a Dove Pan, old and broken,

Which I'm keeping as a token,

Of the happy hours in Magic I have spent,

Tis a faithful friend and trusty,

Tho the inside's rather rusty

And the handle's all adrift and badly bent.

There's a Funnel which has often Made the laughter ring out clear, As a stream of crystal water Was produced from knee or ear. A Rubber Egg, tho now it's perished, Was a treasure to be cherished As an adjunct to the Egg Bag, very dear.

With other wonders stored, Is the good old Vase and Cord, A real little classic in its way How I've swung that bottle round, To clear the ceiling or the ground, T'was sure a Magic Bottle in its day!

The Block that passes through the Ribbon When ensconced inside the Frame, Is but one of many Gimmicks, That have helped to make my name, And the Feke for cutting Rope, Now superseded by some 'Dope', Will always be accorded some small modicum of fame.

And I've lots of this and that, A Die that passes through a hat, A Handkerchief that vanishes, I think I have them all, Oftimes through force of habit, From my hat I've pulled a Rabbit, When escorting a young lady to a Ball.

Looking back down through the years At all the laughter—and the tears—, This wondrous Art of Magic has its Banner still unfurled, And her sons who with a flourish, Wave the Wand to make things vanish, Are the Salt of all the Earth, The Entertainers of the World !

Ho. 4 CATALOGUE

(1954 Edition)

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