TCDE-Team at 14:42, 19 April 2026

2026-04-19T14:42:56Z

TCDE-Team at 12:54, 23 March 2024

2024-03-23T12:54:17Z

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''If I Were Conan Doyle'' is a poem written by R. H. L. published in [[The Chicago Tribune]] on 12 july 1930.

== If I Were Conan Doyle ==
[[File:the-chicago-tribune-1930-07-12-p8-if-i-were-conan-doyle.jpg|thumb|250px|right|[[The Chicago Tribune]] (12 july 1930, p. 8)]]

If I were Conan Doyle, 
At last set free from earth, 
I wouldn't waste any time calling up people 
Over here. 
The central girl across the Styx 
Is probably just like the ones we have here 
On earth. 
Why, if I crossed the Styx 
And tried to call up the folks back home 
And held the receiver to my ear 
For what would be a couple of hours over here 
(They don't count time over there), 
And the Styx operator finally said, 
"Say, party, that number doesn't answer," 
I'd almost wish I weren't dead. 
Or if they have the dial phones installed 
Over there, do you think I'd want to sit around 
Picking out numbers and spinning that thing 
When I could go outdoors and 
Talk with old Charon the boatman, 
Who rowed me over, and ask him 
If he had any trouble when he 
Brought Captain Kidd across, or if Noah 
Made a row because he 
Couldn't bring his animals with him 
Two by two?

No, when I get over there 
No fat and blowsy medium over here 
Can say she's got me on 
The ouija board and that after reaching the land 
Of spirits, the greatest adventure that any soul 
Could undergo. all I could find to say 
Was, "I am very happy here— 
And I hope you are the same." 
If after I have left this earth 
For good 
Any medium says I sent that message, then you 
Tell her she's holding out on you, 
Because if an earth medium 
Ever gets me on the ouija board 
When I am over there, what I'll say to her 
For bothering me just when I am sitting down 
To drink a cup of sack 
With old Bill Shakespeare, P. T. Barnum, 
Charlemagne, and Benedict Arnold 
Would certainly be nobody's business. 
I'd tell her to leave me alone 
And go and put on a clean wrapper 
And wash her face and smooth 
Her frowsy hair, 
And that the world across the Styx 
Was too full of all sorts of interesting people 
To allow me to waste a moment 
Kicking tambourines, ringing bells, 
Or doing other stunts for which 
She grabbed down two bucks per head 
From all the suckers 
She could pull into the show.

No, once again and most 
Positively, no! 
When I get to a land where there's no 
Stock ticker, no 85 cent wheat, no farm board, 
No book agents or bond salesmen; 
No people that want you to do this or that or 
The other thing they know damn well 
You don't want to do; no honking automobiles 
Swooping down to take your life; 
No dust or noise or heat (at least I hope there'll 
Be no heat) — I just want to ramble around 
And have a nice long rest 
And satisfy my curiosity about so many things 
That bothered me here on earth. 
I'd hunt up Alexander 
That men called the Great Commander, 
And I'd say, "Alex, 
You were so smart in solving 
That mystery of the Gordian knot, 
What about crossword puzzles? 
Here's one that had me stumped for two hours. 
How long is it going to take 
For you to work it out?" And then I'd hunt up 
Queen Elizabeth and say, 
"Queen (or may I call you Lizzie?), 
Since you've been over here 
Are you running around again 
With your boy friend, Walter Raleigh?" 
And while chatting with the queen 
Old Nero might stroll by, and I 
Would drop poor Liz quite sudden like 
And introduce myself to Nero 
And tell him I'd just come over 
And was mighty glad to see him 
And that I'd like to ask him 
If he really played the fiddle 
While Rome burned. And Nero very likely 
Would say that fresh arrivals 
Very often got too fresh, and besides that 
Fiddle stuff happened quite some time ago, 
And for me not to be running around 
Dishing up dirt. 
And then I'd tell him that back on earth people 
Didn't feel so sore at him as 
They used to. 
And then he'd stop and grin and say, 
"Well, that's good news to me; 
How come?" And I'd tell him that since 
So many people started playing 
The saxophone 
The world was ready to forgive a guy 
That only played the fiddle, even if he played it 
While the town was burning down. 
"The Romans who got burned up," 
I'd say, "would have suffered more 
If you had played 
The saxophone." 
And Nero would slap me on the back 
And laugh and say, "Come on around 
And play a round of golf 
On our brand new nine hole course 
With Henry the Eighth and Confucius 
And George Washington." 
And after the golf game was finished I think 
I'd drop around to the Grande Hotel 
De Styx 
And have dinner with champagne while 
Mozart or Strauss 
Led the Styx Syncopated Scallywags 
In music that just made me 
Want to dance, and so between courses I'd 
Waltz around with Mary Queen of Scots, Lucrezia Borgia, 
Joan of Arc, sweet Nell Gwyn, 
Marie Antoinette, Charlotte Corday, and 
Caesar's wife.

You see, I'll have so much to do 
When I've left the earth forever 
That when some fat medium calls me 
From back here and says some one is paging me 
On the ouija board and wants 
To know how I am getting on 
I'll tell the boy to send back word that I 
Have said a last good-by 
To earth, 
And to consider that as final. And then 
I'll try to make a date with Cleopatra 
Or Anne Boleyn.

R. H. L.

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If I Were Conan Doyle - Revision history

TCDE-Team at 14:42, 19 April 2026

TCDE-Team at 12:54, 23 March 2024