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diff --git a/old/2babb10.txt b/old/2babb10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..def4ec7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2babb10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4658 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bab Ballads, by W. S. Gilbert +(#3 in our series by W. S. Gilbert) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Bab Ballads + +Author: W. S. Gilbert + +Release Date: June, 1997 [EBook #931] +[This file was first posted on June 2, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BAB BALLADS *** + + + + +Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +THE BAB BALLADS + + + + +Contents: + +Captain Reece +The Rival Curates +Only A Dancing Girl +General John +To A Little Maid--By A Policeman +John And Freddy +Sir Guy The Crusader +Haunted +The Bishop And The 'Busman +The Troubadour +Ferdinando And Elvira; Or, The Gentle Pieman +Lorenzo De Lardy +Disillusioned--By An Ex-Enthusiast +Babette's Love +To My Bride--(Whoever She May Be) +The Folly Of Brown--By A General Agent +Sir Macklin +The Yarn Of The "Nancy Bell" +The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo +The Precocious Baby. A Very True Tale +To Phoebe +Baines Carew, Gentleman +Thomas Winterbottom Hance +The Reverend Micah Sowls +A Discontented Sugar Broker +The Pantomime "Super" To His Mask +The Force Of Argument +The Ghost, The Gallant, The Gael, And The Goblin +The Phantom Curate. A Fable +The Sensation Captain +Tempora Mutantur +At A Pantomime. By A Bilious One +King Borria Bungalee Boo +The Periwinkle Girl +Thomson Green And Harriet Hale +Bob Polter +The Story Of Prince Agib +Ellen McJones Aberdeen +Peter The Wag +Ben Allah Achmet;--Or, The Fatal Tum +The Three Kings Of Chickeraboo +Joe Golightly--Or, The First Lord's Daughter +To The Terrestrial Globe. By A Miserable Wretch +Gentle Alice Brown + + + +Captain Reece + + + +Of all the ships upon the blue, +No ship contained a better crew +Than that of worthy CAPTAIN REECE, +Commanding of The Mantelpiece. + +He was adored by all his men, +For worthy CAPTAIN REECE, R.N., +Did all that lay within him to +Promote the comfort of his crew. + +If ever they were dull or sad, +Their captain danced to them like mad, +Or told, to make the time pass by, +Droll legends of his infancy. + +A feather bed had every man, +Warm slippers and hot-water can, +Brown windsor from the captain's store, +A valet, too, to every four. + +Did they with thirst in summer burn, +Lo, seltzogenes at every turn, +And on all very sultry days +Cream ices handed round on trays. + +Then currant wine and ginger pops +Stood handily on all the "tops;" +And also, with amusement rife, +A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life." + +New volumes came across the sea +From MISTER MUDIE'S libraree; +The Times and Saturday Review +Beguiled the leisure of the crew. + +Kind-hearted CAPTAIN REECE, R.N., +Was quite devoted to his men; +In point of fact, good CAPTAIN REECE +Beatified The Mantelpiece. + +One summer eve, at half-past ten, +He said (addressing all his men): +"Come, tell me, please, what I can do +To please and gratify my crew. + +"By any reasonable plan +I'll make you happy if I can; +My own convenience count as nil: +It is my duty, and I will." + +Then up and answered WILLIAM LEE +(The kindly captain's coxswain he, +A nervous, shy, low-spoken man), +He cleared his throat and thus began: + +"You have a daughter, CAPTAIN REECE, +Ten female cousins and a niece, +A Ma, if what I'm told is true, +Six sisters, and an aunt or two. + +"Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me, +More friendly-like we all should be, +If you united of 'em to +Unmarried members of the crew. + +"If you'd ameliorate our life, +Let each select from them a wife; +And as for nervous me, old pal, +Give me your own enchanting gal!" + +Good CAPTAIN REECE, that worthy man, +Debated on his coxswain's plan: +"I quite agree," he said, "O BILL; +It is my duty, and I will. + +"My daughter, that enchanting gurl, +Has just been promised to an Earl, +And all my other familee +To peers of various degree. + +"But what are dukes and viscounts to +The happiness of all my crew? +The word I gave you I'll fulfil; +It is my duty, and I will. + +"As you desire it shall befall, +I'll settle thousands on you all, +And I shall be, despite my hoard, +The only bachelor on board." + +The boatswain of The Mantelpiece, +He blushed and spoke to CAPTAIN REECE: +"I beg your honour's leave," he said; +"If you would wish to go and wed, + +"I have a widowed mother who +Would be the very thing for you-- +She long has loved you from afar: +She washes for you, CAPTAIN R." + +The Captain saw the dame that day-- +Addressed her in his playful way-- +"And did it want a wedding ring? +It was a tempting ickle sing! + +"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek, +We'll all be married this day week +At yonder church upon the hill; +It is my duty, and I will!" + +The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece, +And widowed Ma of CAPTAIN REECE, +Attended there as they were bid; +It was their duty, and they did. + + + +The Rival Curates + + + +List while the poet trolls +Of MR. CLAYTON HOOPER, +Who had a cure of souls +At Spiffton-extra-Sooper. + +He lived on curds and whey, +And daily sang their praises, +And then he'd go and play +With buttercups and daisies. + +Wild croquet HOOPER banned, +And all the sports of Mammon, +He warred with cribbage, and +He exorcised backgammon. + +His helmet was a glance +That spoke of holy gladness; +A saintly smile his lance; +His shield a tear of sadness. + +His Vicar smiled to see +This armour on him buckled: +With pardonable glee +He blessed himself and chuckled. + +"In mildness to abound +My curate's sole design is; +In all the country round +There's none so mild as mine is!" + +And HOOPER, disinclined +His trumpet to be blowing, +Yet didn't think you'd find +A milder curate going. + +A friend arrived one day +At Spiffton-extra-Sooper, +And in this shameful way +He spoke to Mr. HOOPER: + +"You think your famous name +For mildness can't be shaken, +That none can blot your fame-- +But, HOOPER, you're mistaken! + +"Your mind is not as blank +As that of HOPLEY PORTER, +Who holds a curate's rank +At Assesmilk-cum-Worter. + +"HE plays the airy flute, +And looks depressed and blighted, +Doves round about him 'toot,' +And lambkins dance delighted. + +"HE labours more than you +At worsted work, and frames it; +In old maids' albums, too, +Sticks seaweed--yes, and names it!" + +The tempter said his say, +Which pierced him like a needle-- +He summoned straight away +His sexton and his beadle. + +(These men were men who could +Hold liberal opinions: +On Sundays they were good-- +On week-days they were minions.) + +"To HOPLEY PORTER go, +Your fare I will afford you-- + Deal him a deadly blow, +And blessings shall reward you. + +"But stay--I do not like +Undue assassination, +And so before you strike, +Make this communication: + +"I'll give him this one chance-- +If he'll more gaily bear him, +Play croquet, smoke, and dance, +I willingly will spare him." + +They went, those minions true, +To Assesmilk-cum-Worter, +And told their errand to +The REVEREND HOPLEY PORTER. + +"What?" said that reverend gent, +"Dance through my hours of leisure? +Smoke?--bathe myself with scent?-- +Play croquet? Oh, with pleasure! + +"Wear all my hair in curl? +Stand at my door and wink--so-- +At every passing girl? +My brothers, I should think so! + +"For years I've longed for some +Excuse for this revulsion: +Now that excuse has come-- +I do it on compulsion!!!" + +He smoked and winked away-- +This REVEREND HOPLEY PORTER-- +The deuce there was to pay +At Assesmilk-cum-Worter. + +And HOOPER holds his ground, +In mildness daily growing-- +They think him, all around, +The mildest curate going. + + + +Only A Dancing Girl + + + +Only a dancing girl, +With an unromantic style, +With borrowed colour and curl, +With fixed mechanical smile, +With many a hackneyed wile, +With ungrammatical lips, +And corns that mar her trips. + +Hung from the "flies" in air, +She acts a palpable lie, +She's as little a fairy there +As unpoetical I! +I hear you asking, Why-- +Why in the world I sing +This tawdry, tinselled thing? + +No airy fairy she, +As she hangs in arsenic green +From a highly impossible tree +In a highly impossible scene +(Herself not over-clean). +For fays don't suffer, I'm told, +From bunions, coughs, or cold. + +And stately dames that bring +Their daughters there to see, +Pronounce the "dancing thing" +No better than she should be, +With her skirt at her shameful knee, +And her painted, tainted phiz: +Ah, matron, which of us is? + +(And, in sooth, it oft occurs +That while these matrons sigh, +Their dresses are lower than hers, +And sometimes half as high; +And their hair is hair they buy, +And they use their glasses, too, +In a way she'd blush to do.) + +But change her gold and green +For a coarse merino gown, +And see her upon the scene +Of her home, when coaxing down +Her drunken father's frown, +In his squalid cheerless den: +She's a fairy truly, then! + + + +General John + + + +The bravest names for fire and flames +And all that mortal durst, +Were GENERAL JOHN and PRIVATE JAMES, +Of the Sixty-seventy-first. + +GENERAL JOHN was a soldier tried, +A chief of warlike dons; +A haughty stride and a withering pride +Were MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN'S. + +A sneer would play on his martial phiz, +Superior birth to show; +"Pish!" was a favourite word of his, +And he often said "Ho! ho!" + +FULL-PRIVATE JAMES described might be, +As a man of a mournful mind; +No characteristic trait had he +Of any distinctive kind. + +From the ranks, one day, cried PRIVATE JAMES, +"Oh! MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN, +I've doubts of our respective names, +My mournful mind upon. + +"A glimmering thought occurs to me +(Its source I can't unearth), +But I've a kind of a notion we +Were cruelly changed at birth. + +"I've a strange idea that each other's names +We've each of us here got on. +Such things have been," said PRIVATE JAMES. +"They have!" sneered GENERAL JOHN. + +"My GENERAL JOHN, I swear upon +My oath I think 'tis so--" +"Pish!" proudly sneered his GENERAL JOHN, +And he also said "Ho! ho!" + +"My GENERAL JOHN! my GENERAL JOHN! +My GENERAL JOHN!" quoth he, +"This aristocratical sneer upon +Your face I blush to see! + +"No truly great or generous cove +Deserving of them names, +Would sneer at a fixed idea that's drove +In the mind of a PRIVATE JAMES!" + +Said GENERAL JOHN, "Upon your claims +No need your breath to waste; +If this is a joke, FULL-PRIVATE JAMES, +It's a joke of doubtful taste. + +"But, being a man of doubtless worth, +If you feel certain quite +That we were probably changed at birth, +I'll venture to say you're right." + +So GENERAL JOHN as PRIVATE JAMES +Fell in, parade upon; +And PRIVATE JAMES, by change of names, +Was MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN. + + + +To A Little Maid--By A Policeman + + + +Come with me, little maid, +Nay, shrink not, thus afraid-- +I'll harm thee not! +Fly not, my love, from me-- +I have a home for thee-- +A fairy grot, +Where mortal eye +Can rarely pry, +There shall thy dwelling be! + +List to me, while I tell +The pleasures of that cell, +Oh, little maid! +What though its couch be rude, +Homely the only food +Within its shade? +No thought of care +Can enter there, +No vulgar swain intrude! + +Come with me, little maid, +Come to the rocky shade +I love to sing; +Live with us, maiden rare-- +Come, for we "want" thee there, +Thou elfin thing, +To work thy spell, +In some cool cell +In stately Pentonville! + + + +John And Freddy + + + +JOHN courted lovely MARY ANN, +So likewise did his brother, FREDDY. +FRED was a very soft young man, +While JOHN, though quick, was most unsteady. + +FRED was a graceful kind of youth, +But JOHN was very much the strongest. +"Oh, dance away," said she, "in truth, +I'll marry him who dances longest." + +JOHN tries the maiden's taste to strike +With gay, grotesque, outrageous dresses, +And dances comically, like +CLODOCHE AND Co., at the Princess's. + +But FREDDY tries another style, +He knows some graceful steps and does 'em-- +A breathing Poem--Woman's smile-- +A man all poesy and buzzem. + +Now FREDDY'S operatic pas-- +Now JOHNNY'S hornpipe seems entrapping: +Now FREDDY'S graceful entrechats-- +Now JOHNNY'S skilful "cellar-flapping." + +For many hours--for many days-- +For many weeks performed each brother, +For each was active in his ways, +And neither would give in to t'other. + +After a month of this, they say +(The maid was getting bored and moody) +A wandering curate passed that way +And talked a lot of goody-goody. + +"Oh my," said he, with solemn frown, +"I tremble for each dancing frater, +Like unregenerated clown +And harlequin at some the-ayter." + +He showed that men, in dancing, do +Both impiously and absurdly, +And proved his proposition true, +With Firstly, Secondly, and Thirdly. + +For months both JOHN and FREDDY danced, +The curate's protests little heeding; +For months the curate's words enhanced +The sinfulness of their proceeding. + +At length they bowed to Nature's rule-- +Their steps grew feeble and unsteady, +Till FREDDY fainted on a stool, +And JOHNNY on the top of FREDDY. + +"Decide!" quoth they, "let him be named, +Who henceforth as his wife may rank you." +"I've changed my views," the maiden said, +"I only marry curates, thank you!" + +Says FREDDY, "Here is goings on! +To bust myself with rage I'm ready." +"I'll be a curate!" whispers JOHN-- +"And I," exclaimed poetic FREDDY. + +But while they read for it, these chaps, +The curate booked the maiden bonny-- +And when she's buried him, perhaps, +She'll marry FREDERICK or JOHNNY. + + + +Sir Guy The Crusader + + + +Sir GUY was a doughty crusader, +A muscular knight, +Ever ready to fight, +A very determined invader, +And DICKEY DE LION'S delight. + +LENORE was a Saracen maiden, +Brunette, statuesque, +The reverse of grotesque, +Her pa was a bagman from Aden, +Her mother she played in burlesque. + +A coryphee, pretty and loyal, +In amber and red +The ballet she led; +Her mother performed at the Royal, +LENORE at the Saracen's Head. + +Of face and of figure majestic, +She dazzled the cits-- +Ecstaticised pits;-- +Her troubles were only domestic, +But drove her half out of her wits. + +Her father incessantly lashed her, +On water and bread +She was grudgingly fed; +Whenever her father he thrashed her +Her mother sat down on her head. + +GUY saw her, and loved her, with reason, +For beauty so bright +Sent him mad with delight; +He purchased a stall for the season, +And sat in it every night. + +His views were exceedingly proper, +He wanted to wed, +So he called at her shed +And saw her progenitor whop her-- +Her mother sit down on her head. + +"So pretty," said he, "and so trusting! +You brute of a dad, +You unprincipled cad, +Your conduct is really disgusting, +Come, come, now admit it's too bad! + +"You're a turbaned old Turk, and malignant-- +Your daughter LENORE +I intensely adore, +And I cannot help feeling indignant, +A fact that I hinted before; + +"To see a fond father employing +A deuce of a knout +For to bang her about, +To a sensitive lover's annoying." +Said the bagman, "Crusader, get out." + +Says GUY, "Shall a warrior laden +With a big spiky knob, +Sit in peace on his cob +While a beautiful Saracen maiden +Is whipped by a Saracen snob? + +"To London I'll go from my charmer." +Which he did, with his loot +(Seven hats and a flute), +And was nabbed for his Sydenham armour +At MR. BEN-SAMUEL'S suit. + +SIR GUY he was lodged in the Compter, +Her pa, in a rage, +Died (don't know his age), +His daughter, she married the prompter, +Grew bulky and quitted the stage. + + + +Haunted + + + +Haunted? Ay, in a social way +By a body of ghosts in dread array; +But no conventional spectres they-- +Appalling, grim, and tricky: +I quail at mine as I'd never quail +At a fine traditional spectre pale, +With a turnip head and a ghostly wail, +And a splash of blood on the dickey! + +Mine are horrible, social ghosts,-- +Speeches and women and guests and hosts, +Weddings and morning calls and toasts, +In every bad variety: +Ghosts who hover about the grave +Of all that's manly, free, and brave: +You'll find their names on the architrave +Of that charnel-house, Society. + +Black Monday--black as its school-room ink-- +With its dismal boys that snivel and think +Of its nauseous messes to eat and drink, +And its frozen tank to wash in. +That was the first that brought me grief, +And made me weep, till I sought relief +In an emblematical handkerchief, +To choke such baby bosh in. + +First and worst in the grim array- +Ghosts of ghosts that have gone their way, +Which I wouldn't revive for a single day +For all the wealth of PLUTUS-- +Are the horrible ghosts that school-days scared: +If the classical ghost that BRUTUS dared +Was the ghost of his "Caesar" unprepared, +I'm sure I pity BRUTUS. + +I pass to critical seventeen; +The ghost of that terrible wedding scene, +When an elderly Colonel stole my Queen, +And woke my dream of heaven. +No schoolgirl decked in her nurse-room curls +Was my gushing innocent Queen of Pearls; +If she wasn't a girl of a thousand girls, +She was one of forty-seven! + +I see the ghost of my first cigar, +Of the thence-arising family jar-- +Of my maiden brief (I was at the Bar, +And I called the Judge "Your wushup!") +Of reckless days and reckless nights, +With wrenched-off knockers, extinguished lights, +Unholy songs and tipsy fights, +Which I strove in vain to hush up. + +Ghosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks, +Ghosts of "copy, declined with thanks," +Of novels returned in endless ranks, +And thousands more, I suffer. +The only line to fitly grace +My humble tomb, when I've run my race, +Is, "Reader, this is the resting-place +Of an unsuccessful duffer." + +I've fought them all, these ghosts of mine, +But the weapons I've used are sighs and brine, +And now that I'm nearly forty-nine, +Old age is my chiefest bogy; +For my hair is thinning away at the crown, +And the silver fights with the worn-out brown; +And a general verdict sets me down +As an irreclaimable fogy. + + + +The Bishop And The 'Busman + + + +It was a Bishop bold, +And London was his see, +He was short and stout and round about +And zealous as could be. + +It also was a Jew, +Who drove a Putney 'bus-- +For flesh of swine however fine +He did not care a cuss. + +His name was HASH BAZ BEN, +And JEDEDIAH too, +And SOLOMON and ZABULON-- +This 'bus-directing Jew. + +The Bishop said, said he, +"I'll see what I can do +To Christianise and make you wise, +You poor benighted Jew." + +So every blessed day +That 'bus he rode outside, +From Fulham town, both up and down, +And loudly thus he cried: + +"His name is HASH BAZ BEN, +And JEDEDIAH too, +And SOLOMON and ZABULON-- +This 'bus-directing Jew." + +At first the 'busman smiled, +And rather liked the fun-- +He merely smiled, that Hebrew child, +And said, "Eccentric one!" + +And gay young dogs would wait +To see the 'bus go by +(These gay young dogs, in striking togs), +To hear the Bishop cry: + +"Observe his grisly beard, +His race it clearly shows, +He sticks no fork in ham or pork-- +Observe, my friends, his nose. + +"His name is HASH BAZ BEN, +And JEDEDIAH too, +And SOLOMON and ZABULON-- +This 'bus-directing Jew." + +But though at first amused, +Yet after seven years, +This Hebrew child got rather riled, +And melted into tears. + +He really almost feared +To leave his poor abode, +His nose, and name, and beard became +A byword on that road. + +At length he swore an oath, +The reason he would know-- +"I'll call and see why ever he +Does persecute me so!" + +The good old Bishop sat +On his ancestral chair, +The 'busman came, sent up his name, +And laid his grievance bare. + +"Benighted Jew," he said +(The good old Bishop did), +"Be Christian, you, instead of Jew-- +Become a Christian kid! + +"I'll ne'er annoy you more." +"Indeed?" replied the Jew; +"Shall I be freed?" "You will, indeed!" +Then "Done!" said he, "with you!" + +The organ which, in man, +Between the eyebrows grows, +Fell from his face, and in its place +He found a Christian nose. + +His tangled Hebrew beard, +Which to his waist came down, +Was now a pair of whiskers fair-- +His name ADOLPHUS BROWN! + +He wedded in a year +That prelate's daughter JANE, +He's grown quite fair--has auburn hair-- +His wife is far from plain. + + + +The Troubadour + + + +A TROUBADOUR he played +Without a castle wall, +Within, a hapless maid +Responded to his call. + +"Oh, willow, woe is me! +Alack and well-a-day! +If I were only free +I'd hie me far away!" + +Unknown her face and name, +But this he knew right well, +The maiden's wailing came +From out a dungeon cell. + +A hapless woman lay +Within that dungeon grim-- +That fact, I've heard him say, +Was quite enough for him. + +"I will not sit or lie, +Or eat or drink, I vow, +Till thou art free as I, +Or I as pent as thou." + +Her tears then ceased to flow, +Her wails no longer rang, +And tuneful in her woe +The prisoned maiden sang: + +"Oh, stranger, as you play, +I recognize your touch; +And all that I can say +Is, thank you very much." + +He seized his clarion straight, +And blew thereat, until +A warden oped the gate. +"Oh, what might be your will?" + +"I've come, Sir Knave, to see +The master of these halls: +A maid unwillingly +Lies prisoned in their walls."' + +With barely stifled sigh +That porter drooped his head, +With teardrops in his eye, +"A many, sir," he said. + +He stayed to hear no more, +But pushed that porter by, +And shortly stood before +SIR HUGH DE PECKHAM RYE. + +SIR HUGH he darkly frowned, +"What would you, sir, with me?" +The troubadour he downed +Upon his bended knee. + +"I've come, DE PECKHAM RYE, +To do a Christian task; +You ask me what would I? +It is not much I ask. + +"Release these maidens, sir, +Whom you dominion o'er-- +Particularly her +Upon the second floor. + +"And if you don't, my lord"-- +He here stood bolt upright, +And tapped a tailor's sword-- +"Come out, you cad, and fight!" + +SIR HUGH he called--and ran +The warden from the gate: +"Go, show this gentleman +The maid in Forty-eight." + +By many a cell they past, +And stopped at length before +A portal, bolted fast: +The man unlocked the door. + +He called inside the gate +With coarse and brutal shout, +"Come, step it, Forty-eight!" +And Forty-eight stepped out. + +"They gets it pretty hot, +The maidens what we cotch-- +Two years this lady's got +For collaring a wotch." + +"Oh, ah!--indeed--I see," +The troubadour exclaimed-- +"If I may make so free, +How is this castle named? + +The warden's eyelids fill, +And sighing, he replied, +"Of gloomy Pentonville +This is the female side!" + +The minstrel did not wait +The Warden stout to thank, +But recollected straight +He'd business at the Bank. + + + +Ferdinando And Elvira; Or, The Gentle Pieman + + + +PART I. + + +At a pleasant evening party I had taken down to supper +One whom I will call ELVIRA, and we talked of love and TUPPER, + +MR. TUPPER and the Poets, very lightly with them dealing, +For I've always been distinguished for a strong poetic feeling. + +Then we let off paper crackers, each of which contained a motto, +And she listened while I read them, till her mother told her not to. + +Then she whispered, "To the ball-room we had better, dear, be walking; +If we stop down here much longer, really people will be talking." + +There were noblemen in coronets, and military cousins, +There were captains by the hundred, there were baronets by dozens. + +Yet she heeded not their offers, but dismissed them with a blessing, +Then she let down all her back hair, which had taken long in dressing. + +Then she had convulsive sobbings in her agitated throttle, +Then she wiped her pretty eyes and smelt her pretty smelling-bottle. + +So I whispered, "Dear ELVIRA, say,--what can the matter be with you? +Does anything you've eaten, darling POPSY, disagree with you?" + +But spite of all I said, her sobs grew more and more distressing, +And she tore her pretty back hair, which had taken long in dressing. + +Then she gazed upon the carpet, at the ceiling, then above me, +And she whispered, "FERDINANDO, do you really, REALLY love me?" + +"Love you?" said I, then I sighed, and then I gazed upon her sweetly-- +For I think I do this sort of thing particularly neatly. + +"Send me to the Arctic regions, or illimitable azure, +On a scientific goose-chase, with my COXWELL or my GLAISHER! + +"Tell me whither I may hie me--tell me, dear one, that I may know-- +Is it up the highest Andes? down a horrible volcano?" + +But she said, "It isn't polar bears, or hot volcanic grottoes: +Only find out who it is that writes those lovely cracker mottoes!" + + +PART II. + + +"Tell me, HENRY WADSWORTH, ALFRED POET CLOSE, or MISTER TUPPER, +Do you write the bon bon mottoes my ELVIRA pulls at supper?" + +But HENRY WADSWORTH smiled, and said he had not had that honour; +And ALFRED, too, disclaimed the words that told so much upon her. + +"MISTER MARTIN TUPPER, POET CLOSE, I beg of you inform us;" +But my question seemed to throw them both into a rage enormous. + +MISTER CLOSE expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to me; +And MISTER MARTIN TUPPER sent the following reply to me: + +"A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,"-- +Which I know was very clever; but I didn't understand it. + +Seven weary years I wandered--Patagonia, China, Norway, +Till at last I sank exhausted at a pastrycook his doorway. + +There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle, +So I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle. + +He was plump and he was chubby, he was smooth and he was rosy, +And his little wife was pretty and particularly cosy. + +And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with laughter +hearty-- +He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party. + +And I said, "O gentle pieman, why so very, very merry? +Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry?" + +But he answered, "I'm so happy--no profession could be dearer-- +If I am not humming 'Tra! la! la!' I'm singing 'Tirer, lirer!' + +"First I go and make the patties, and the puddings, and the jellies, +Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a table swell is; + +"Then I polish all the silver, which a supper-table lacquers; +Then I write the pretty mottoes which you find inside the crackers."-- + +"Found at last!" I madly shouted. "Gentle pieman, you astound me!" +Then I waved the turtle soup enthusiastically round me. + +And I shouted and I danced until he'd quite a crowd around him-- +And I rushed away exclaiming, "I have found him! I have found him!" + +And I heard the gentle pieman in the road behind me trilling, +"'Tira, lira!' stop him, stop him! 'Tra! la! la!' the soup's a +shilling!" + +But until I reached ELVIRA'S home, I never, never waited, +And ELVIRA to her FERDINAND'S irrevocably mated! + + + +Lorenzo De Lardy + + + +DALILAH DE DARDY adored +The very correctest of cards, +LORENZO DE LARDY, a lord-- +He was one of Her Majesty's Guards. + +DALILAH DE DARDY was fat, +DALILAH DE DARDY was old-- +(No doubt in the world about that) +But DALILAH DE DARDY had gold. + +LORENZO DE LARDY was tall, +The flower of maidenly pets, +Young ladies would love at his call, +But LORENZO DE LARDY had debts. + +His money-position was queer, +And one of his favourite freaks +Was to hide himself three times a year, +In Paris, for several weeks. + +Many days didn't pass him before +He fanned himself into a flame, +For a beautiful "DAM DU COMPTWORE," +And this was her singular name: + +ALICE EULALIE CORALINE +EUPHROSINE COLOMBINA THERESE +JULIETTE STEPHANIE CELESTINE +CHARLOTTE RUSSE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE. + +She booked all the orders and tin, +Accoutred in showy fal-lal, +At a two-fifty Restaurant, in +The glittering Palais Royal. + +He'd gaze in her orbit of blue, +Her hand he would tenderly squeeze, +But the words of her tongue that he knew +Were limited strictly to these: + +"CORALINE CELESTINE EULALIE, +Houp la! Je vous aime, oui, mossoo, +Combien donnez moi aujourd'hui +Bonjour, Mademoiselle, parlez voo." + +MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE +Was a witty and beautiful miss, +Extremely correct in her ways, +But her English consisted of this: + +"Oh my! pretty man, if you please, +Blom boodin, biftek, currie lamb, +Bouldogue, two franc half, quite ze cheese, +Rosbif, me spik Angleesh, godam." + +A waiter, for seasons before, +Had basked in her beautiful gaze, +And burnt to dismember MILOR, +HE LOVED DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE. + +He said to her, "Mechante THERESE, +Avec desespoir tu m'accables. +Penses-tu, DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE, +Ses intentions sont honorables? + +"Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu oses-- +Je me vengerai ainsi, ma chere, +Je lui dirai de quoi l'on compose +Vol au vent a la Financiere!" + +LORD LARDY knew nothing of this-- +The waiter's devotion ignored, +But he gazed on the beautiful miss, +And never seemed weary or bored. + +The waiter would screw up his nerve, +His fingers he'd snap and he'd dance-- +And LORD LARDY would smile and observe, +"How strange are the customs of France!" + +Well, after delaying a space, +His tradesmen no longer would wait: +Returning to England apace, +He yielded himself to his fate. + +LORD LARDY espoused, with a groan, +MISS DARDY'S developing charms, +And agreed to tag on to his own, +Her name and her newly-found arms. + +The waiter he knelt at the toes +Of an ugly and thin coryphee, +Who danced in the hindermost rows +At the Theatre des Varietes. + +MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE +Didn't yield to a gnawing despair +But married a soldier, and plays +As a pretty and pert Vivandiere. + + + +Disillusioned--By An Ex-Enthusiast + + + +Oh, that my soul its gods could see +As years ago they seemed to me +When first I painted them; +Invested with the circumstance +Of old conventional romance: +Exploded theorem! + +The bard who could, all men above, +Inflame my soul with songs of love, +And, with his verse, inspire +The craven soul who feared to die +With all the glow of chivalry +And old heroic fire; + +I found him in a beerhouse tap +Awaking from a gin-born nap, +With pipe and sloven dress; +Amusing chums, who fooled his bent, +With muddy, maudlin sentiment, +And tipsy foolishness! + +The novelist, whose painting pen +To legions of fictitious men +A real existence lends, +Brain-people whom we rarely fail, +Whene'er we hear their names, to hail +As old and welcome friends; + +I found in clumsy snuffy suit, +In seedy glove, and blucher boot, +Uncomfortably big. +Particularly commonplace, +With vulgar, coarse, stockbroking face, +And spectacles and wig. + +My favourite actor who, at will, +With mimic woe my eyes could fill +With unaccustomed brine: +A being who appeared to me +(Before I knew him well) to be +A song incarnadine; + +I found a coarse unpleasant man +With speckled chin--unhealthy, wan-- +Of self-importance full: +Existing in an atmosphere +That reeked of gin and pipes and beer-- +Conceited, fractious, dull. + +The warrior whose ennobled name +Is woven with his country's fame, +Triumphant over all, +I found weak, palsied, bloated, blear; +His province seemed to be, to leer +At bonnets in Pall Mall. + +Would that ye always shone, who write, +Bathed in your own innate limelight, +And ye who battles wage, +Or that in darkness I had died +Before my soul had ever sighed +To see you off the stage! + + + +Babette's Love + + + +BABETTE she was a fisher gal, +With jupon striped and cap in crimps. +She passed her days inside the Halle, +Or catching little nimble shrimps. +Yet she was sweet as flowers in May, +With no professional bouquet. + +JACOT was, of the Customs bold, +An officer, at gay Boulogne, +He loved BABETTE--his love he told, +And sighed, "Oh, soyez vous my own!" +But "Non!" said she, "JACOT, my pet, +Vous etes trop scraggy pour BABETTE. + +"Of one alone I nightly dream, +An able mariner is he, +And gaily serves the Gen'ral Steam- +Boat Navigation Companee. +I'll marry him, if he but will-- +His name, I rather think, is BILL. + +"I see him when he's not aware, +Upon our hospitable coast, +Reclining with an easy air +Upon the Port against a post, +A-thinking of, I'll dare to say, +His native Chelsea far away!" + +"Oh, mon!" exclaimed the Customs bold, +"Mes yeux!" he said (which means "my eye") +"Oh, chere!" he also cried, I'm told, +"Par Jove," he added, with a sigh. +"Oh, mon! oh, chere! mes yeux! par Jove! +Je n'aime pas cet enticing cove!" + +The Panther's captain stood hard by, +He was a man of morals strict +If e'er a sailor winked his eye, +Straightway he had that sailor licked, +Mast-headed all (such was his code) +Who dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed. + +He wept to think a tar of his +Should lean so gracefully on posts, +He sighed and sobbed to think of this, +On foreign, French, and friendly coasts. +"It's human natur', p'raps--if so, +Oh, isn't human natur' low!" + +He called his BILL, who pulled his curl, +He said, "My BILL, I understand +You've captivated some young gurl +On this here French and foreign land. +Her tender heart your beauties jog-- +They do, you know they do, you dog. + +"You have a graceful way, I learn, +Of leaning airily on posts, +By which you've been and caused to burn +A tender flame on these here coasts. +A fisher gurl, I much regret,-- +Her age, sixteen--her name, BABETTE. + +"You'll marry her, you gentle tar-- +Your union I myself will bless, +And when you matrimonied are, +I will appoint her stewardess." +But WILLIAM hitched himself and sighed, +And cleared his throat, and thus replied: + +"Not so: unless you're fond of strife, +You'd better mind your own affairs, +I have an able-bodied wife +Awaiting me at Wapping Stairs; +If all this here to her I tell, +She'll larrup you and me as well. + +"Skin-deep, and valued at a pin, +Is beauty such as VENUS owns-- +HER beauty is beneath her skin, +And lies in layers on her bones. +The other sailors of the crew +They always calls her 'Whopping Sue!'" + +"Oho!" the Captain said, "I see! +And is she then so very strong?" +"She'd take your honour's scruff," said he +"And pitch you over to Bolong!" +"I pardon you," the Captain said, +"The fair BABETTE you needn't wed." + +Perhaps the Customs had his will, +And coaxed the scornful girl to wed, +Perhaps the Captain and his BILL, +And WILLIAM'S little wife are dead; +Or p'raps they're all alive and well: +I cannot, cannot, cannot tell. + + + +To My Bride--(Whoever She May Be) + + + +Oh! little maid!--(I do not know your name +Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution +I'll add)--Oh, buxom widow! married dame! +(As one of these must be your present portion) +Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you, +And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for you. + +You'll marry soon--within a year or twain-- +A bachelor of circa two and thirty: +Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain, +And when you're intimate, you'll call him "BERTIE." +Neat--dresses well; his temper has been classified +As hasty; but he's very quickly pacified. + +You'll find him working mildly at the Bar, +After a touch at two or three professions, +From easy affluence extremely far, +A brief or two on Circuit--"soup" at Sessions; +A pound or two from whist and backing horses, +And, say three hundred from his own resources. + +Quiet in harness; free from serious vice, +His faults are not particularly shady, +You'll never find him "SHY"--for, once or twice +Already, he's been driven by a lady, +Who parts with him--perhaps a poor excuse for him-- +Because she hasn't any further use for him. + +Oh! bride of mine--tall, dumpy, dark, or fair! +Oh! widow--wife, maybe, or blushing maiden, +I've told YOUR fortune; solved the gravest care +With which your mind has hitherto been laden. +I've prophesied correctly, never doubt it; +Now tell me mine--and please be quick about it! + +You--only you--can tell me, an' you will, +To whom I'm destined shortly to be mated, +Will she run up a heavy modiste's bill? +If so, I want to hear her income stated +(This is a point which interests me greatly). +To quote the bard, "Oh! have I seen her lately?" + +Say, must I wait till husband number one +Is comfortably stowed away at Woking? +How is her hair most usually done? +And tell me, please, will she object to smoking? +The colour of her eyes, too, you may mention: +Come, Sibyl, prophesy--I'm all attention. + + + +The Folly Of Brown--By A General Agent + + + +I knew a boor--a clownish card +(His only friends were pigs and cows and +The poultry of a small farmyard), +Who came into two hundred thousand. + +Good fortune worked no change in BROWN, +Though she's a mighty social chymist; +He was a clown--and by a clown +I do not mean a pantomimist. + +It left him quiet, calm, and cool, +Though hardly knowing what a crown was-- +You can't imagine what a fool +Poor rich uneducated BROWN was! + +He scouted all who wished to come +And give him monetary schooling; +And I propose to give you some +Idea of his insensate fooling. + +I formed a company or two-- +(Of course I don't know what the rest meant, +I formed them solely with a view +To help him to a sound investment). + +Their objects were--their only cares-- +To justify their Boards in showing +A handsome dividend on shares +And keep their good promoter going. + +But no--the lout sticks to his brass, +Though shares at par I freely proffer: +Yet--will it be believed?--the ass +Declines, with thanks, my well-meant offer! + +He adds, with bumpkin's stolid grin +(A weakly intellect denoting), +He'd rather not invest it in +A company of my promoting! + +"You have two hundred 'thou' or more," +Said I. "You'll waste it, lose it, lend it; +Come, take my furnished second floor, +I'll gladly show you how to spend it." + +But will it be believed that he, +With grin upon his face of poppy, +Declined my aid, while thanking me +For what he called my "philanthroppy"? + +Some blind, suspicious fools rejoice +In doubting friends who wouldn't harm them; +They will not hear the charmer's voice, +However wisely he may charm them! + +I showed him that his coat, all dust, +Top boots and cords provoked compassion, +And proved that men of station must +Conform to the decrees of fashion. + +I showed him where to buy his hat +To coat him, trouser him, and boot him; +But no--he wouldn't hear of that-- +"He didn't think the style would suit him!" + +I offered him a county seat, +And made no end of an oration; +I made it certainty complete, +And introduced the deputation. + +But no--the clown my prospect blights-- +(The worth of birth it surely teaches!) +"Why should I want to spend my nights +In Parliament, a-making speeches? + +"I haven't never been to school-- +I ain't had not no eddication-- +And I should surely be a fool +To publish that to all the nation!" + +I offered him a trotting horse-- +No hack had ever trotted faster-- +I also offered him, of course, +A rare and curious "old master." + +I offered to procure him weeds-- +Wines fit for one in his position-- +But, though an ass in all his deeds, +He'd learnt the meaning of "commission." + +He called me "thief" the other day, +And daily from his door he thrusts me; +Much more of this, and soon I may +Begin to think that BROWN mistrusts me. + +So deaf to all sound Reason's rule +This poor uneducated clown is, +You canNOT fancy what a fool +Poor rich uneducated BROWN is. + + + +Sir Macklin + + + +Of all the youths I ever saw +None were so wicked, vain, or silly, +So lost to shame and Sabbath law, +As worldly TOM, and BOB, and BILLY. + +For every Sabbath day they walked +(Such was their gay and thoughtless natur) +In parks or gardens, where they talked +From three to six, or even later. + +SIR MACKLIN was a priest severe +In conduct and in conversation, +It did a sinner good to hear +Him deal in ratiocination. + +He could in every action show +Some sin, and nobody could doubt him. +He argued high, he argued low, +He also argued round about him. + +He wept to think each thoughtless youth +Contained of wickedness a skinful, +And burnt to teach the awful truth, +That walking out on Sunday's sinful. + +"Oh, youths," said he, "I grieve to find +The course of life you've been and hit on-- +Sit down," said he, "and never mind +The pennies for the chairs you sit on. + +"My opening head is 'Kensington,' +How walking there the sinner hardens, +Which when I have enlarged upon, +I go to 'Secondly'--its 'Gardens.' + +"My 'Thirdly' comprehendeth 'Hyde,' +Of Secresy the guilts and shameses; +My 'Fourthly'--'Park'--its verdure wide-- +My 'Fifthly' comprehends 'St. James's.' + +"That matter settled, I shall reach +The 'Sixthly' in my solemn tether, +And show that what is true of each, +Is also true of all, together. + +"Then I shall demonstrate to you, +According to the rules of WHATELY, +That what is true of all, is true +Of each, considered separately." + +In lavish stream his accents flow, +TOM, BOB, and BILLY dare not flout him; +He argued high, he argued low, +He also argued round about him. + +"Ha, ha!" he said, "you loathe your ways, +You writhe at these my words of warning, +In agony your hands you raise." +(And so they did, for they were yawning.) + +To "Twenty-firstly" on they go, +The lads do not attempt to scout him; +He argued high, he argued low, +He also argued round about him. + +"Ho, ho!" he cries, "you bow your crests-- +My eloquence has set you weeping; +In shame you bend upon your breasts!" +(And so they did, for they were sleeping.) + +He proved them this--he proved them that-- +This good but wearisome ascetic; +He jumped and thumped upon his hat, +He was so very energetic. + +His Bishop at this moment chanced +To pass, and found the road encumbered; +He noticed how the Churchman danced, +And how his congregation slumbered. + +The hundred and eleventh head +The priest completed of his stricture; +"Oh, bosh!" the worthy Bishop said, +And walked him off as in the picture. + + + +The Yarn Of The "Nancy Bell" + + + +'Twas on the shores that round our coast +From Deal to Ramsgate span, +That I found alone on a piece of stone +An elderly naval man. + +His hair was weedy, his beard was long, +And weedy and long was he, +And I heard this wight on the shore recite, +In a singular minor key: + +"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, +And the mate of the Nancy brig, +And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, +And the crew of the captain's gig." + +And he shook his fists and he tore his hair, +Till I really felt afraid, +For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, +And so I simply said: + +"Oh, elderly man, it's little I know +Of the duties of men of the sea, +And I'll eat my hand if I understand +However you can be + +"At once a cook, and a captain bold, +And the mate of the Nancy brig, +And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, +And the crew of the captain's gig." + +Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which +Is a trick all seamen larn, +And having got rid of a thumping quid, +He spun this painful yarn: + +"'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell +That we sailed to the Indian Sea, +And there on a reef we come to grief, +Which has often occurred to me. + +"And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned +(There was seventy-seven o' soul), +And only ten of the Nancy's men +Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll. + +"There was me and the cook and the captain bold, +And the mate of the Nancy brig, +And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, +And the crew of the captain's gig. + +"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, +Till a-hungry we did feel, +So we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot +The captain for our meal. + +"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, +And a delicate dish he made; +Then our appetite with the midshipmite +We seven survivors stayed. + +"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, +And he much resembled pig; +Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, +On the crew of the captain's gig. + +"Then only the cook and me was left, +And the delicate question, 'Which +Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, +And we argued it out as sich. + +"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, +And the cook he worshipped me; +But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed +In the other chap's hold, you see. + +"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says TOM; +'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be,-- +'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; +And 'Exactly so,' quoth he. + +"Says he, 'Dear JAMES, to murder me +Were a foolish thing to do, +For don't you see that you can't cook ME, +While I can--and will--cook YOU!' + +"So he boils the water, and takes the salt +And the pepper in portions true +(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot. +And some sage and parsley too. + +"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, +Which his smiling features tell, +''T will soothing be if I let you see +How extremely nice you'll smell.' + +"And he stirred it round and round and round, +And he sniffed at the foaming froth; +When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals +In the scum of the boiling broth. + +"And I eat that cook in a week or less, +And--as I eating be +The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, +For a wessel in sight I see! + +* * * * + +"And I never larf, and I never smile, +And I never lark nor play, +But sit and croak, and a single joke +I have--which is to say: + +"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, +And the mate of the Nancy brig, +And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, +And the crew of the captain's gig!'" + + + +The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo + + + +From east and south the holy clan +Of Bishops gathered to a man; +To Synod, called Pan-Anglican, +In flocking crowds they came. +Among them was a Bishop, who +Had lately been appointed to +The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo, +And PETER was his name. + +His people--twenty-three in sum-- +They played the eloquent tum-tum, +And lived on scalps served up, in rum-- +The only sauce they knew. +When first good BISHOP PETER came +(For PETER was that Bishop's name), +To humour them, he did the same +As they of Rum-ti-Foo. + +His flock, I've often heard him tell, +(His name was PETER) loved him well, +And, summoned by the sound of bell, +In crowds together came. +"Oh, massa, why you go away? +Oh, MASSA PETER, please to stay." +(They called him PETER, people say, +Because it was his name.) + +He told them all good boys to be, +And sailed away across the sea, +At London Bridge that Bishop he +Arrived one Tuesday night; +And as that night he homeward strode +To his Pan-Anglican abode, +He passed along the Borough Road, +And saw a gruesome sight. + +He saw a crowd assembled round +A person dancing on the ground, +Who straight began to leap and bound +With all his might and main. +To see that dancing man he stopped, +Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped, +Then down incontinently dropped, +And then sprang up again. + +The Bishop chuckled at the sight. +"This style of dancing would delight +A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite. +I'll learn it if I can, +To please the tribe when I get back." +He begged the man to teach his knack. +"Right Reverend Sir, in half a crack! +Replied that dancing man. + +The dancing man he worked away, +And taught the Bishop every day-- +The dancer skipped like any fay-- +Good PETER did the same. +The Bishop buckled to his task, +With battements, and pas de basque. +(I'll tell you, if you care to ask, +That PETER was his name.) + +"Come, walk like this," the dancer said, +"Stick out your toes--stick in your head, +Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread-- +Your fingers thus extend; +The attitude's considered quaint." +The weary Bishop, feeling faint, +Replied, "I do not say it ain't, +But 'Time!' my Christian friend!" + +"We now proceed to something new-- +Dance as the PAYNES and LAURIS do, +Like this--one, two--one, two--one, two." +The Bishop, never proud, +But in an overwhelming heat +(His name was PETER, I repeat) +Performed the PAYNE and LAURI feat, +And puffed his thanks aloud. + +Another game the dancer planned-- +"Just take your ankle in your hand, +And try, my lord, if you can stand-- +Your body stiff and stark. +If, when revisiting your see, +You learnt to hop on shore--like me-- +The novelty would striking be, +And must attract remark." + +"No," said the worthy Bishop, "no; +That is a length to which, I trow, +Colonial Bishops cannot go. +You may express surprise +At finding Bishops deal in pride-- +But if that trick I ever tried, +I should appear undignified +In Rum-ti-Foozle's eyes. + +"The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo +Are well-conducted persons, who +Approve a joke as much as you, +And laugh at it as such; +But if they saw their Bishop land, +His leg supported in his hand, +The joke they wouldn't understand-- +'T would pain them very much!" + + + +The Precocious Baby. A Very True Tale + + + +(To be sung to the Air of the "Whistling Oyster.") + +An elderly person--a prophet by trade-- +With his quips and tips +On withered old lips, +He married a young and a beautiful maid; +The cunning old blade! +Though rather decayed, +He married a beautiful, beautiful maid. + +She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be, +With her tempting smiles +And maidenly wiles, +And he was a trifle past seventy-three: +Now what she could see +Is a puzzle to me, +In a prophet of seventy--seventy-three! + +Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad) +With their loud high jinks +And underbred winks, +None thought they'd a family have--but they had; +A dear little lad +Who drove 'em half mad, +For he turned out a horribly fast little cad. + +For when he was born he astonished all by, +With their "Law, dear me!" +"Did ever you see?" +He'd a pipe in his mouth and a glass in his eye, +A hat all awry-- +An octagon tie-- +And a miniature--miniature glass in his eye. + +He grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap, +With his "Oh, dear, oh!" +And his "Hang it! 'oo know!" +And he turned up his nose at his excellent pap-- +"My friends, it's a tap +Dat is not worf a rap." +(Now this was remarkably excellent pap.) + +He'd chuck his nurse under the chin, and he'd say, +With his "Fal, lal, lal"-- +"'Oo doosed fine gal!" +This shocking precocity drove 'em away: +"A month from to-day +Is as long as I'll stay-- +Then I'd wish, if you please, for to toddle away." + +His father, a simple old gentleman, he +With nursery rhyme +And "Once on a time," +Would tell him the story of "Little Bo-P," +"So pretty was she, +So pretty and wee, +As pretty, as pretty, as pretty could be." + +But the babe, with a dig that would startle an ox, +With his "C'ck! Oh, my!-- +Go along wiz 'oo, fie!" +Would exclaim, "I'm afraid 'oo a socking ole fox." +Now a father it shocks, +And it whitens his locks, +When his little babe calls him a shocking old fox. + +The name of his father he'd couple and pair +(With his ill-bred laugh, +And insolent chaff) +With those of the nursery heroines rare-- +Virginia the Fair, +Or Good Goldenhair, +Till the nuisance was more than a prophet could bear. + +"There's Jill and White Cat" (said the bold little brat, +With his loud, "Ha, ha!") +"'Oo sly ickle Pa! +Wiz 'oo Beauty, Bo-Peep, and 'oo Mrs. Jack Sprat! +I've noticed 'oo pat +MY pretty White Cat-- +I sink dear mamma ought to know about dat!" + +He early determined to marry and wive, +For better or worse +With his elderly nurse-- +Which the poor little boy didn't live to contrive: +His hearth didn't thrive-- +No longer alive, +He died an enfeebled old dotard at five! + +MORAL. + +Now, elderly men of the bachelor crew, +With wrinkled hose +And spectacled nose, +Don't marry at all--you may take it as true +If ever you do +The step you will rue, +For your babes will be elderly--elderly too. + + + +To Phoebe + + + +"Gentle, modest little flower, +Sweet epitome of May, +Love me but for half an hour, +Love me, love me, little fay." +Sentences so fiercely flaming +In your tiny shell-like ear, +I should always be exclaiming +If I loved you, PHOEBE dear. + +"Smiles that thrill from any distance +Shed upon me while I sing! +Please ecstaticize existence, +Love me, oh, thou fairy thing!" +Words like these, outpouring sadly +You'd perpetually hear, +If I loved you fondly, madly;-- +But I do not, PHOEBE dear. + + + +Baines Carew, Gentleman + + + +Of all the good attorneys who +Have placed their names upon the roll, +But few could equal BAINES CAREW +For tender-heartedness and soul. + +Whene'er he heard a tale of woe +From client A or client B, +His grief would overcome him so +He'd scarce have strength to take his fee. + +It laid him up for many days, +When duty led him to distrain, +And serving writs, although it pays, +Gave him excruciating pain. + +He made out costs, distrained for rent, +Foreclosed and sued, with moistened eye-- +No bill of costs could represent +The value of such sympathy. + +No charges can approximate +The worth of sympathy with woe;-- +Although I think I ought to state +He did his best to make them so. + +Of all the many clients who +Had mustered round his legal flag, +No single client of the crew +Was half so dear as CAPTAIN BAGG. + +Now, CAPTAIN BAGG had bowed him to +A heavy matrimonial yoke-- +His wifey had of faults a few-- +She never could resist a joke. + +Her chaff at first he meekly bore, +Till unendurable it grew. +"To stop this persecution sore +I will consult my friend CAREW. + +"And when CAREW'S advice I've got, +Divorce a mensa I shall try." +(A legal separation--not +A vinculo conjugii.) + +"Oh, BAINES CAREW, my woe I've kept +A secret hitherto, you know;"-- +(And BAINES CAREW, ESQUIRE, he wept +To hear that BAGG HAD any woe.) + +"My case, indeed, is passing sad. +My wife--whom I considered true-- +With brutal conduct drives me mad." +"I am appalled," said BAINES CAREW. + +"What! sound the matrimonial knell +Of worthy people such as these! +Why was I an attorney? Well-- +Go on to the saevitia, please." + +"Domestic bliss has proved my bane,-- +A harder case you never heard, +My wife (in other matters sane) +Pretends that I'm a Dicky bird! + +"She makes me sing, 'Too-whit, too-wee!' +And stand upon a rounded stick, +And always introduces me +To every one as 'Pretty Dick'!" + +"Oh, dear," said weeping BAINES CAREW, +"This is the direst case I know." +"I'm grieved," said BAGG, "at paining you-- +"To COBB and POLTHERTHWAITE I'll go-- + +"To COBB'S cold, calculating ear, +My gruesome sorrows I'll impart"-- +"No; stop," said BAINES, "I'll dry my tear, +And steel my sympathetic heart." + +"She makes me perch upon a tree, +Rewarding me with 'Sweety--nice!' +And threatens to exhibit me +With four or five performing mice." + +"Restrain my tears I wish I could" +(Said BAINES), "I don't know what to do." +Said CAPTAIN BAGG, "You're very good." +"Oh, not at all," said BAINES CAREW. + +"She makes me fire a gun," said BAGG; +"And, at a preconcerted word, +Climb up a ladder with a flag, +Like any street performing bird. + +"She places sugar in my way-- +In public places calls me 'Sweet!' +She gives me groundsel every day, +And hard canary-seed to eat." + +"Oh, woe! oh, sad! oh, dire to tell!" +(Said BAINES). "Be good enough to stop." +And senseless on the floor he fell, +With unpremeditated flop! + +Said CAPTAIN BAGG, "Well, really I +Am grieved to think it pains you so. +I thank you for your sympathy; +But, hang it!--come--I say, you know!" + +But BAINES lay flat upon the floor, +Convulsed with sympathetic sob;-- +The Captain toddled off next door, +And gave the case to MR. COBB. + + + +Thomas Winterbottom Hance + + + +In all the towns and cities fair +On Merry England's broad expanse, +No swordsman ever could compare +With THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM HANCE. + +The dauntless lad could fairly hew +A silken handkerchief in twain, +Divide a leg of mutton too-- +And this without unwholesome strain. + +On whole half-sheep, with cunning trick, +His sabre sometimes he'd employ-- +No bar of lead, however thick, +Had terrors for the stalwart boy. + +At Dover daily he'd prepare +To hew and slash, behind, before-- +Which aggravated MONSIEUR PIERRE, +Who watched him from the Calais shore. + +It caused good PIERRE to swear and dance, +The sight annoyed and vexed him so; +He was the bravest man in France-- +He said so, and he ought to know. + +"Regardez donc, ce cochon gros-- +Ce polisson! Oh, sacre bleu! +Son sabre, son plomb, et ses gigots +Comme cela m'ennuye, enfin, mon Dieu! + +"Il sait que les foulards de soie +Give no retaliating whack-- +Les gigots morts n'ont pas de quoi-- +Le plomb don't ever hit you back." + +But every day the headstrong lad +Cut lead and mutton more and more; +And every day poor PIERRE, half mad, +Shrieked loud defiance from his shore. + +HANCE had a mother, poor and old, +A simple, harmless village dame, +Who crowed and clapped as people told +Of WINTERBOTTOM'S rising fame. + +She said, "I'll be upon the spot +To see my TOMMY'S sabre-play;" +And so she left her leafy cot, +And walked to Dover in a day. + +PIERRE had a doating mother, who +Had heard of his defiant rage; +HIS Ma was nearly ninety-two, +And rather dressy for her age. + +At HANCE'S doings every morn, +With sheer delight HIS mother cried; +And MONSIEUR PIERRE'S contemptuous scorn +Filled HIS mamma with proper pride. + +But HANCE'S powers began to fail-- +His constitution was not strong-- +And PIERRE, who once was stout and hale, +Grew thin from shouting all day long. + +Their mothers saw them pale and wan, +Maternal anguish tore each breast, +And so they met to find a plan +To set their offsprings' minds at rest. + +Said MRS. HANCE, "Of course I shrinks +From bloodshed, ma'am, as you're aware, +But still they'd better meet, I thinks." +"Assurement!" said MADAME PIERRE. + +A sunny spot in sunny France +Was hit upon for this affair; +The ground was picked by MRS. HANCE, +The stakes were pitched by MADAME PIERRE. + +Said MRS. H., "Your work you see-- +Go in, my noble boy, and win." +"En garde, mon fils!" said MADAME P. +"Allons!" "Go on!" "En garde!" "Begin!" + +(The mothers were of decent size, +Though not particularly tall; +But in the sketch that meets your eyes +I've been obliged to draw them small.) + +Loud sneered the doughty man of France, +"Ho! ho! Ho! ho! Ha! ha! Ha! ha! +"The French for 'Pish'" said THOMAS HANCE. +Said PIERRE, "L'Anglais, Monsieur, pour 'Bah.'" + +Said MRS. H., "Come, one! two! three!-- +We're sittin' here to see all fair." +"C'est magnifique!" said MADAME P., +"Mais, parbleu! ce n'est pas la guerre!" + +"Je scorn un foe si lache que vous," +Said PIERRE, the doughty son of France. +"I fight not coward foe like you!" +Said our undaunted TOMMY HANCE. + +"The French for 'Pooh!'" our TOMMY cried. +"L'Anglais pour 'Va!'" the Frenchman crowed. +And so, with undiminished pride, +Each went on his respective road. + + + +The Reverend Micah Sowls + + + +The REVEREND MICAH SOWLS, +He shouts and yells and howls, +He screams, he mouths, he bumps, +He foams, he rants, he thumps. + +His armour he has buckled on, to wage +The regulation war against the Stage; +And warns his congregation all to shun +"The Presence-Chamber of the Evil One," + +The subject's sad enough +To make him rant and puff, +And fortunately, too, +His Bishop's in a pew. + +So REVEREND MICAH claps on extra steam, +His eyes are flashing with superior gleam, +He is as energetic as can be, +For there are fatter livings in that see. + +The Bishop, when it's o'er, +Goes through the vestry door, +Where MICAH, very red, +Is mopping of his head. + +"Pardon, my Lord, your SOWLS' excessive zeal, +It is a theme on which I strongly feel." +(The sermon somebody had sent him down +From London, at a charge of half-a-crown.) + +The Bishop bowed his head, +And, acquiescing, said, +"I've heard your well-meant rage +Against the Modern Stage. + +"A modern Theatre, as I heard you say, +Sows seeds of evil broadcast--well it may; +But let me ask you, my respected son, +Pray, have you ever ventured into one?" + +"My Lord," said MICAH, "no! +I never, never go! +What! Go and see a play? +My goodness gracious, nay!" + +The worthy Bishop said, "My friend, no doubt +The Stage may be the place you make it out; +But if, my REVEREND SOWLS, you never go, +I don't quite understand how you're to know." + +"Well, really," MICAH said, +"I've often heard and read, +But never go--do you?" +The Bishop said, "I do." + +"That proves me wrong," said MICAH, in a trice: +"I thought it all frivolity and vice." +The Bishop handed him a printed card; +"Go to a theatre where they play our Bard." + +The Bishop took his leave, +Rejoicing in his sleeve. +The next ensuing day +SOWLS went and heard a play. + +He saw a dreary person on the stage, +Who mouthed and mugged in simulated rage, +Who growled and spluttered in a mode absurd, +And spoke an English SOWLS had never heard. + +For "gaunt" was spoken "garnt," + And "haunt" transformed to "harnt," + And "wrath " pronounced as "rath," + And "death" was changed to "dath." + +For hours and hours that dismal actor walked, +And talked, and talked, and talked, and talked, +Till lethargy upon the parson crept, +And sleepy MICAH SOWLS serenely slept. + +He slept away until +The farce that closed the bill +Had warned him not to stay, +And then he went away. + +"I thought MY gait ridiculous," said he-- +"MY elocution faulty as could be; +I thought _I_ mumbled on a matchless plan-- +I had not seen our great Tragedian! + +"Forgive me, if you can, +O great Tragedian! +I own it with a sigh-- +You're drearier than I!" + + + +A Discontented Sugar Broker + + + +A GENTLEMAN of City fame +Now claims your kind attention; +East India broking was his game, +His name I shall not mention: +No one of finely-pointed sense +Would violate a confidence, +And shall _I_ go +And do it? No! +His name I shall not mention. + +He had a trusty wife and true, +And very cosy quarters, +A manager, a boy or two, +Six clerks, and seven porters. +A broker must be doing well +(As any lunatic can tell) +Who can employ +An active boy, +Six clerks, and seven porters. + +His knocker advertised no dun, +No losses made him sulky, +He had one sorrow--only one-- +He was extremely bulky. +A man must be, I beg to state, +Exceptionally fortunate +Who owns his chief +And only grief +Is--being very bulky. + +"This load," he'd say, "I cannot bear; +I'm nineteen stone or twenty! +Henceforward I'll go in for air +And exercise in plenty." +Most people think that, should it come, +They can reduce a bulging tum +To measures fair +By taking air +And exercise in plenty. + +In every weather, every day, +Dry, muddy, wet, or gritty, +He took to dancing all the way +From Brompton to the City. +You do not often get the chance +Of seeing sugar brokers dance +From their abode +In Fulham Road +Through Brompton to the City. + +He braved the gay and guileless laugh +Of children with their nusses, +The loud uneducated chaff +Of clerks on omnibuses. +Against all minor things that rack +A nicely-balanced mind, I'll back +The noisy chaff +And ill-bred laugh +Of clerks on omnibuses. + +His friends, who heard his money chink, +And saw the house he rented, +And knew his wife, could never think +What made him discontented. +It never entered their pure minds +That fads are of eccentric kinds, +Nor would they own +That fat alone +Could make one discontented. + +"Your riches know no kind of pause, +Your trade is fast advancing; +You dance--but not for joy, because +You weep as you are dancing. +To dance implies that man is glad, +To weep implies that man is sad; +But here are you +Who do the two-- +You weep as you are dancing!" + +His mania soon got noised about +And into all the papers; +His size increased beyond a doubt +For all his reckless capers: +It may seem singular to you, +But all his friends admit it true-- +The more he found +His figure round, +The more he cut his capers. + +His bulk increased--no matter that-- +He tried the more to toss it-- +He never spoke of it as "fat," +But "adipose deposit." +Upon my word, it seems to me +Unpardonable vanity +(And worse than that) +To call your fat +An "adipose deposit." + +At length his brawny knees gave way, +And on the carpet sinking, +Upon his shapeless back he lay +And kicked away like winking. +Instead of seeing in his state +The finger of unswerving Fate, +He laboured still +To work his will, +And kicked away like winking. + +His friends, disgusted with him now, +Away in silence wended-- +I hardly like to tell you how +This dreadful story ended. +The shocking sequel to impart, +I must employ the limner's art-- +If you would know, +This sketch will show +How his exertions ended. + +MORAL. + +I hate to preach--I hate to prate-- +- I'm no fanatic croaker, +But learn contentment from the fate +Of this East India broker. +He'd everything a man of taste +Could ever want, except a waist; +And discontent +His size anent, +And bootless perseverance blind, +Completely wrecked the peace of mind +Of this East India broker. + + + +The Pantomime "Super" To His Mask + + + +Vast empty shell! +Impertinent, preposterous abortion! +With vacant stare, +And ragged hair, +And every feature out of all proportion! +Embodiment of echoing inanity! +Excellent type of simpering insanity! +Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity! +I ring thy knell! + +To-night thou diest, +Beast that destroy'st my heaven-born identity! +Nine weeks of nights, +Before the lights, +Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity, +I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally, +Credited for the smile you wear externally-- +I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally, +As there thou liest! + +I've been thy brain: +I'VE been the brain that lit thy dull concavity! +The human race +Invest MY face +With thine expression of unchecked depravity, +Invested with a ghastly reciprocity, +I'VE been responsible for thy monstrosity, +I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity-- +But not again! + +'T is time to toll +Thy knell, and that of follies pantomimical: +A nine weeks' run, +And thou hast done +All thou canst do to make thyself inimical. +Adieu, embodiment of all inanity! +Excellent type of simpering insanity! +Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity! +Freed is thy soul! + +(The Mask respondeth.) + +Oh! master mine, +Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using me. +Art thou aware +Of nothing there +Which might abuse thee, as thou art abusing me? +A brain that mourns THINE unredeemed rascality? +A soul that weeps at THY threadbare morality? +Both grieving that THEIR individuality +Is merged in thine? + + + +The Force Of Argument + + + +Lord B. was a nobleman bold +Who came of illustrious stocks, +He was thirty or forty years old, +And several feet in his socks. + +To Turniptopville-by-the-Sea +This elegant nobleman went, +For that was a borough that he +Was anxious to rep-per-re-sent. + +At local assemblies he danced +Until he felt thoroughly ill; +He waltzed, and he galoped, and lanced, +And threaded the mazy quadrille. + +The maidens of Turniptopville +Were simple--ingenuous--pure-- +And they all worked away with a will +The nobleman's heart to secure. + +Two maidens all others beyond +Endeavoured his cares to dispel-- +The one was the lively ANN POND, +The other sad MARY MORELL. + +ANN POND had determined to try +And carry the Earl with a rush; +Her principal feature was eye, +Her greatest accomplishment--gush. + +And MARY chose this for her play: +Whenever he looked in her eye +She'd blush and turn quickly away, +And flitter, and flutter, and sigh. + +It was noticed he constantly sighed +As she worked out the scheme she had planned, +A fact he endeavoured to hide +With his aristocratical hand. + +Old POND was a farmer, they say, +And so was old TOMMY MORELL. +In a humble and pottering way +They were doing exceedingly well. + +They both of them carried by vote +The Earl was a dangerous man; +So nervously clearing his throat, +One morning old TOMMY began: + +"My darter's no pratty young doll-- +I'm a plain-spoken Zommerzet man-- +Now what do 'ee mean by my POLL, +And what do 'ee mean by his ANN? + +Said B., "I will give you my bond +I mean them uncommonly well, +Believe me, my excellent POND, +And credit me, worthy MORELL. + +"It's quite indisputable, for +I'll prove it with singular ease,-- +You shall have it in 'Barbara' or +'Celarent'--whichever you please. + +'You see, when an anchorite bows +To the yoke of intentional sin, +If the state of the country allows, +Homogeny always steps in-- + +"It's a highly aesthetical bond, +As any mere ploughboy can tell--" +"Of course," replied puzzled old POND. +"I see," said old TOMMY MORELL. + +"Very good, then," continued the lord; +"When it's fooled to the top of its bent, +With a sweep of a Damocles sword +The web of intention is rent. + +"That's patent to all of us here, +As any mere schoolboy can tell." +POND answered, "Of course it's quite clear"; +And so did that humbug MORELL. + +"Its tone's esoteric in force-- +I trust that I make myself clear?" +MORELL only answered, "Of course," +While POND slowly muttered, "Hear, hear." + +"Volition--celestial prize, +Pellucid as porphyry cell-- +Is based on a principle wise." +"Quite so," exclaimed POND and MORELL. + +"From what I have said you will see +That I couldn't wed either--in fine, +By Nature's unchanging decree +YOUR daughters could never be MINE. + +"Go home to your pigs and your ricks, +My hands of the matter I've rinsed." +So they take up their hats and their sticks, . +And exeunt ambo, convinced. + + + +The Ghost, The Gallant, The Gael, And The Goblin + + + +O'er unreclaimed suburban clays +Some years ago were hobblin' +An elderly ghost of easy ways, +And an influential goblin. +The ghost was a sombre spectral shape, +A fine old five-act fogy, +The goblin imp, a lithe young ape, +A fine low-comedy bogy. + +And as they exercised their joints, +Promoting quick digestion, +They talked on several curious points, +And raised this delicate question: +"Which of us two is Number One-- +The ghostie, or the goblin?" +And o'er the point they raised in fun +They fairly fell a-squabblin'. + +They'd barely speak, and each, in fine, +Grew more and more reflective: +Each thought his own particular line +By chalks the more effective. +At length they settled some one should +By each of them be haunted, +And so arrange that either could +Exert his prowess vaunted. + +"The Quaint against the Statuesque"-- +By competition lawful-- +The goblin backed the Quaint Grotesque, +The ghost the Grandly Awful. +"Now," said the goblin, "here's my plan-- +In attitude commanding, +I see a stalwart Englishman +By yonder tailor's standing. + +"The very fittest man on earth +My influence to try on-- +Of gentle, p'r'aps of noble birth, +And dauntless as a lion! +Now wrap yourself within your shroud-- +Remain in easy hearing-- +Observe--you'll hear him scream aloud +When I begin appearing! + +The imp with yell unearthly--wild-- +Threw off his dark enclosure: +His dauntless victim looked and smiled +With singular composure. +For hours he tried to daunt the youth, +For days, indeed, but vainly-- +The stripling smiled!--to tell the truth, +The stripling smiled inanely. + +For weeks the goblin weird and wild, +That noble stripling haunted; +For weeks the stripling stood and smiled, +Unmoved and all undaunted. +The sombre ghost exclaimed, "Your plan +Has failed you, goblin, plainly: +Now watch yon hardy Hieland man, +So stalwart and ungainly. + +"These are the men who chase the roe, +Whose footsteps never falter, +Who bring with them, where'er they go, +A smack of old SIR WALTER. +Of such as he, the men sublime +Who lead their troops victorious, +Whose deeds go down to after-time, +Enshrined in annals glorious! + +"Of such as he the bard has said +'Hech thrawfu' raltie rorkie! +Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperhead +And fash' wi' unco pawkie!' +He'll faint away when I appear, +Upon his native heather; +Or p'r'aps he'll only scream with fear, +Or p'r'aps the two together." + +The spectre showed himself, alone, +To do his ghostly battling, +With curdling groan and dismal moan, +And lots of chains a-rattling! +But no--the chiel's stout Gaelic stuff +Withstood all ghostly harrying; +His fingers closed upon the snuff +Which upwards he was carrying. + +For days that ghost declined to stir, +A foggy shapeless giant-- +For weeks that splendid officer +Stared back again defiant. +Just as the Englishman returned +The goblin's vulgar staring, +Just so the Scotchman boldly spurned +The ghost's unmannered scaring. + +For several years the ghostly twain +These Britons bold have haunted, +But all their efforts are in vain-- +Their victims stand undaunted. +This very day the imp, and ghost, +Whose powers the imp derided, +Stand each at his allotted post-- +The bet is undecided. + + + +The Phantom Curate. A Fable + + + +A BISHOP once--I will not name his see-- +Annoyed his clergy in the mode conventional; +From pulpit shackles never set them free, +And found a sin where sin was unintentional. +All pleasures ended in abuse auricular-- +The Bishop was so terribly particular. + +Though, on the whole, a wise and upright man, +He sought to make of human pleasures clearances; +And form his priests on that much-lauded plan +Which pays undue attention to appearances. +He couldn't do good deeds without a psalm in 'em, +Although, in truth, he bore away the palm in 'em. + +Enraged to find a deacon at a dance, +Or catch a curate at some mild frivolity, +He sought by open censure to enhance +Their dread of joining harmless social jollity. +Yet he enjoyed (a fact of notoriety) +The ordinary pleasures of society. + +One evening, sitting at a pantomime +(Forbidden treat to those who stood in fear of him), +Roaring at jokes, sans metre, sense, or rhyme, +He turned, and saw immediately in rear of him, +His peace of mind upsetting, and annoying it, +A curate, also heartily enjoying it. + +Again, 't was Christmas Eve, and to enhance +His children's pleasure in their harmless rollicking, +He, like a good old fellow, stood to dance; +When something checked the current of his frolicking: +That curate, with a maid he treated lover-ly, +Stood up and figured with him in the "Coverley!" + +Once, yielding to an universal choice +(The company's demand was an emphatic one, +For the old Bishop had a glorious voice), +In a quartet he joined--an operatic one. +Harmless enough, though ne'er a word of grace in it, +When, lo! that curate came and took the bass in it! + +One day, when passing through a quiet street, +He stopped awhile and joined a Punch's gathering; +And chuckled more than solemn folk think meet, +To see that gentleman his Judy lathering; +And heard, as Punch was being treated penalty, +That phantom curate laughing all hyaenally. + +Now at a picnic, 'mid fair golden curls, +Bright eyes, straw hats, bottines that fit amazingly, +A croquet-bout is planned by all the girls; +And he, consenting, speaks of croquet praisingly; +But suddenly declines to play at all in it-- +The curate fiend has come to take a ball in it! + +Next, when at quiet sea-side village, freed +From cares episcopal and ties monarchical, +He grows his beard, and smokes his fragrant weed, +In manner anything but hierarchical-- +He sees--and fixes an unearthly stare on it-- +That curate's face, with half a yard of hair on it! + +At length he gave a charge, and spake this word: +"Vicars, your curates to enjoyment urge ye may; +To check their harmless pleasuring's absurd; +What laymen do without reproach, my clergy may." +He spake, and lo! at this concluding word of him, +The curate vanished--no one since has heard of him. + + + +The Sensation Captain + + + +No nobler captain ever trod +Than CAPTAIN PARKLEBURY TODD, +So good--so wise--so brave, he! +But still, as all his friends would own, +He had one folly--one alone-- +This Captain in the Navy. + +I do not think I ever knew +A man so wholly given to +Creating a sensation, +Or p'raps I should in justice say-- +To what in an Adelphi play +Is known as "situation." + +He passed his time designing traps +To flurry unsuspicious chaps-- +The taste was his innately; +He couldn't walk into a room +Without ejaculating "Boom!" +Which startled ladies greatly. + +He'd wear a mask and muffling cloak, +Not, you will understand, in joke, +As some assume disguises; +He did it, actuated by +A simple love of mystery +And fondness for surprises. + +I need not say he loved a maid-- +His eloquence threw into shade +All others who adored her. +The maid, though pleased at first, I know, +Found, after several years or so, +Her startling lover bored her. + +So, when his orders came to sail, +She did not faint or scream or wail, +Or with her tears anoint him: +She shook his hand, and said "Good-bye," +With laughter dancing in her eye-- +Which seemed to disappoint him. + +But ere he went aboard his boat, +He placed around her little throat +A ribbon, blue and yellow, +On which he hung a double-tooth-- +A simple token this, in sooth-- +'Twas all he had, poor fellow! + +"I often wonder," he would say, +When very, very far away, +"If ANGELINA wears it? +A plan has entered in my head: +I will pretend that I am dead, +And see how ANGY bears it." + +The news he made a messmate tell. +His ANGELINA bore it well, +No sign gave she of crazing; +But, steady as the Inchcape Rock, +His ANGELINA stood the shock +With fortitude amazing. + +She said, "Some one I must elect +Poor ANGELINA to protect +From all who wish to harm her. +Since worthy CAPTAIN TODD is dead, +I rather feel inclined to wed +A comfortable farmer." + +A comfortable farmer came +(BASSANIO TYLER was his name), +Who had no end of treasure. +He said, "My noble gal, be mine!" +The noble gal did not decline, +But simply said, "With pleasure." + +When this was told to CAPTAIN TODD, +At first he thought it rather odd, +And felt some perturbation; +But very long he did not grieve, +He thought he could a way perceive +To SUCH a situation! + +"I'll not reveal myself," said he, +"Till they are both in the Ecclesiastical arena; +Then suddenly I will appear, +And paralysing them with fear, +Demand my ANGELINA!" + +At length arrived the wedding day; +Accoutred in the usual way +Appeared the bridal body; +The worthy clergyman began, +When in the gallant Captain ran +And cried, "Behold your TODDY!" + +The bridegroom, p'raps, was terrified, +And also possibly the bride-- +The bridesmaids WERE affrighted; +But ANGELINA, noble soul, +Contrived her feelings to control, +And really seemed delighted. + +"My bride!" said gallant CAPTAIN TODD, +"She's mine, uninteresting clod! +My own, my darling charmer!" +"Oh dear," said she, "you're just too late-- +I'm married to, I beg to state, +This comfortable farmer!" + +"Indeed," the farmer said, "she's mine: +You've been and cut it far too fine!" +"I see," said TODD, "I'm beaten." +And so he went to sea once more, +"Sensation" he for aye forswore, +And married on her native shore +A lady whom he'd met before-- +A lovely Otaheitan. + + + +Tempora Mutantur + + + +Letters, letters, letters, letters! +Some that please and some that bore, +Some that threaten prison fetters +(Metaphorically, fetters +Such as bind insolvent debtors)-- +Invitations by the score. + +One from COGSON, WILES, and RAILER, +My attorneys, off the Strand; +One from COPPERBLOCK, my tailor-- +My unreasonable tailor-- +One in FLAGG'S disgusting hand. + +One from EPHRAIM and MOSES, +Wanting coin without a doubt, +I should like to pull their noses-- +Their uncompromising noses; +One from ALICE with the roses-- +Ah, I know what that's about ! + +Time was when I waited, waited +For the missives that she wrote, +Humble postmen execrated-- +Loudly, deeply execrated-- +When I heard I wasn't fated +To be gladdened with a note! + +Time was when I'd not have bartered +Of her little pen a dip +For a peerage duly gartered-- +For a peerage starred and gartered-- +With a palace-office chartered, +Or a Secretaryship. + +But the time for that is over, +And I wish we'd never met. +I'm afraid I've proved a rover-- +I'm afraid a heartless rover-- +Quarters in a place like Dover +Tend to make a man forget. + +Bills for carriages and horses, +Bills for wine and light cigar, +Matters that concern the Forces-- +News that may affect the Forces-- +News affecting my resources, +Much more interesting are! + +And the tiny little paper, +With the words that seem to run +From her little fingers taper +(They are very small and taper), +By the tailor and the draper +Are in interest outdone. + +And unopened it's remaining! +I can read her gentle hope-- +Her entreaties, uncomplaining +(She was always uncomplaining), +Her devotion never waning-- +Through the little envelope! + + + +At A Pantomime. By A Bilious One + + + +An Actor sits in doubtful gloom, +His stock-in-trade unfurled, +In a damp funereal dressing-room +In the Theatre Royal, World. + +He comes to town at Christmas-time, +And braves its icy breath, +To play in that favourite pantomime, +Harlequin Life and Death. + +A hoary flowing wig his weird +Unearthly cranium caps, +He hangs a long benevolent beard +On a pair of empty chaps. + +To smooth his ghastly features down +The actor's art he cribs,-- +A long and a flowing padded gown. +Bedecks his rattling ribs. + +He cries, "Go on--begin, begin! +Turn on the light of lime-- +I'm dressed for jolly Old Christmas, in +A favourite pantomime!" + +The curtain's up--the stage all black-- +Time and the year nigh sped-- +Time as an advertising quack-- +The Old Year nearly dead. + +The wand of Time is waved, and lo! +Revealed Old Christmas stands, +And little children chuckle and crow, +And laugh and clap their hands. + +The cruel old scoundrel brightens up +At the death of the Olden Year, +And he waves a gorgeous golden cup, +And bids the world good cheer. + +The little ones hail the festive King,-- +No thought can make them sad. +Their laughter comes with a sounding ring, +They clap and crow like mad! + +They only see in the humbug old +A holiday every year, +And handsome gifts, and joys untold, +And unaccustomed cheer. + +The old ones, palsied, blear, and hoar, +Their breasts in anguish beat-- +They've seen him seventy times before, +How well they know the cheat! + +They've seen that ghastly pantomime, +They've felt its blighting breath, +They know that rollicking Christmas-time +Meant Cold and Want and Death,-- + +Starvation--Poor Law Union fare-- +And deadly cramps and chills, +And illness--illness everywhere, +And crime, and Christmas bills. + +They know Old Christmas well, I ween, +Those men of ripened age; +They've often, often, often seen +That Actor off the stage! + +They see in his gay rotundity +A clumsy stuffed-out dress-- +They see in the cup he waves on high +A tinselled emptiness. + +Those aged men so lean and wan, +They've seen it all before, +They know they'll see the charlatan +But twice or three times more. + +And so they bear with dance and song, +And crimson foil and green, +They wearily sit, and grimly long +For the Transformation Scene. + + + +King Borria Bungalee Boo + + + +KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO +Was a man-eating African swell; +His sigh was a hullaballoo, +His whisper a horrible yell-- +A horrible, horrible yell! + +Four subjects, and all of them male, +To BORRIA doubled the knee, +They were once on a far larger scale, +But he'd eaten the balance, you see +("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see). + +There was haughty PISH-TUSH-POOH-BAH, +There was lumbering DOODLE-DUM-DEY, +Despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH, +And good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH-- +Exemplary TOOTLE-TUM-TEH. + +One day there was grief in the crew, +For they hadn't a morsel of meat, +And BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO +Was dying for something to eat-- +"Come, provide me with something to eat! + +"ALACK-A-DEY, famished I feel; +Oh, good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH, +Where on earth shall I look for a meal? +For I haven't no dinner to-day!-- +Not a morsel of dinner to-day! + +"Dear TOOTLE-TUM, what shall we do? +Come, get us a meal, or, in truth, +If you don't, we shall have to eat you, +Oh, adorable friend of our youth! +Thou beloved little friend of our youth!" + +And he answered, "Oh, BUNGALEE BOO, +For a moment I hope you will wait,-- +TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO +Is the Queen of a neighbouring state-- +A remarkably neighbouring state. + +"TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO, +She would pickle deliciously cold-- +And her four pretty Amazons, too, +Are enticing, and not very old-- +Twenty-seven is not very old. + +"There is neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH, +There is rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH, +There is jocular WAGGETY-WEH, +There is musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH-- +There's the nightingale DOH-REH-MI-FAH!" + +So the forces of BUNGALEE BOO +Marched forth in a terrible row, +And the ladies who fought for QUEEN LOO +Prepared to encounter the foe-- +This dreadful, insatiate foe! + +But they sharpened no weapons at all, +And they poisoned no arrows--not they! +They made ready to conquer or fall +In a totally different way-- +An entirely different way. + +With a crimson and pearly-white dye +They endeavoured to make themselves fair, +With black they encircled each eye, +And with yellow they painted their hair +(It was wool, but they thought it was hair). + +And the forces they met in the field:- +And the men of KING BORRIA said, +"Amazonians, immediately yield!" +And their arrows they drew to the head-- +Yes, drew them right up to the head. + +But jocular WAGGETY-WEH +Ogled DOODLE-DUM-DEY (which was wrong), +And neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH +Said, "TOOTLE-TUM, you go along! +You naughty old dear, go along!" + +And rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH +Tapped ALACK-A-DEY-AH with her fan; +And musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH +Said, "PISH, go away, you bad man! +Go away, you delightful young man!" + +And the Amazons simpered and sighed, +And they ogled, and giggled, and flushed, +And they opened their pretty eyes wide, +And they chuckled, and flirted, and blushed +(At least, if they could, they'd have blushed). + +But haughty PISH-TUSH-POOH-BAH +Said, "ALACK-A-DEY, what does this mean?" +And despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH +Said, "They think us uncommonly green! +Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!" + +Even blundering DOODLE-DUM-DEY +Was insensible quite to their leers, +And said good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH, +"It's your blood we desire, pretty dears-- +We have come for our dinners, my dears!" + +And the Queen of the Amazons fell +To BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO,-- +In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell, +TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO-- +The pretty QUEEN TOL-THE-ROL-LOO. + +And neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH +Was eaten by PISH-POOH-BAH, +And light-hearted WAGGETY-WEH +By dismal ALACK-A-DEY-AH-- +Despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH. + +And rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH +Was eaten by DOODLE-DUM-DEY, +And musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH +By good little TOOTLE-DUM-TEH-- +Exemplary TOOTLE-TUM-TEH! + + + +The Periwinkle Girl + + + +I've often thought that headstrong youths +Of decent education, +Determine all-important truths, +With strange precipitation. + +The ever-ready victims they, +Of logical illusions, +And in a self-assertive way +They jump at strange conclusions. + +Now take my case: Ere sorrow could +My ample forehead wrinkle, +I had determined that I should +Not care to be a winkle. + +"A winkle," I would oft advance +With readiness provoking, +"Can seldom flirt, and never dance, +Or soothe his mind by smoking." + +In short, I spurned the shelly joy, +And spoke with strange decision-- +Men pointed to me as a boy +Who held them in derision. + +But I was young--too young, by far-- +Or I had been more wary, +I knew not then that winkles are +The stock-in-trade of MARY. + +I had not watched her sunlight blithe +As o'er their shells it dances-- +I've seen those winkles almost writhe +Beneath her beaming glances. + +Of slighting all the winkly brood +I surely had been chary, +If I had known they formed the food +And stock-in-trade of MARY. + +Both high and low and great and small +Fell prostrate at her tootsies, +They all were noblemen, and all +Had balances at COUTTS'S. + +Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt, +DUKE BAILEY and DUKE HUMPHY, +Who ate her winkles till they felt +Exceedingly uncomfy. + +DUKE BAILEY greatest wealth computes, +And sticks, they say, at no-thing, +He wears a pair of golden boots +And silver underclothing. + +DUKE HUMPHY, as I understand, +Though mentally acuter, +His boots are only silver, and +His underclothing pewter. + +A third adorer had the girl, +A man of lowly station-- +A miserable grov'ling Earl +Besought her approbation. + +This humble cad she did refuse +With much contempt and loathing, +He wore a pair of leather shoes +And cambric underclothing! + +"Ha! ha!" she cried. "Upon my word! +Well, really--come, I never! +Oh, go along, it's too absurd! +My goodness! Did you ever? + +"Two Dukes would Mary make a bride, +And from her foes defend her"-- +"Well, not exactly that," they cried, +"We offer guilty splendour. + +"We do not offer marriage rite, +So please dismiss the notion!" +"Oh dear," said she, "that alters quite +The state of my emotion." + +The Earl he up and says, says he, +"Dismiss them to their orgies, +For I am game to marry thee +Quite reg'lar at St. George's." + +(He'd had, it happily befell, +A decent education, +His views would have befitted well +A far superior station.) + +His sterling worth had worked a cure, +She never heard him grumble; +She saw his soul was good and pure, +Although his rank was humble. + +Her views of earldoms and their lot, +All underwent expansion-- +Come, Virtue in an earldom's cot! +Go, Vice in ducal mansion! + + + +Thomson Green And Harriet Hale + + + +(To be sung to the Air of "An 'Orrible Tale.") + +Oh list to this incredible tale +Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE; +Its truth in one remark you'll sum-- +"Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!" + +Oh, THOMSON GREEN was an auctioneer, +And made three hundred pounds a year; +And HARRIET HALE, most strange to say, +Gave pianoforte lessons at a sovereign a day. + +Oh, THOMSON GREEN, I may remark, +Met HARRIET HALE in Regent's Park, +Where he, in a casual kind of way, +Spoke of the extraordinary beauty of the day. + +They met again, and strange, though true, +He courted her for a month or two, +Then to her pa he said, says he, +"Old man, I love your daughter and your daughter worships me!" + +Their names were regularly banned, +The wedding day was settled, and +I've ascertained by dint of search +They were married on the quiet at St. Mary Abbot's Church. + +Oh, list to this incredible tale +Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE, +Its truth in one remark you'll sum-- +"Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!" + +That very self-same afternoon +They started on their honeymoon, +And (oh, astonishment!) took flight +To a pretty little cottage close to Shanklin, Isle of Wight. + +But now--you'll doubt my word, I know-- +In a month they both returned, and lo! +Astounding fact! this happy pair +Took a gentlemanly residence in Canonbury Square! + +They led a weird and reckless life, +They dined each day, this man and wife +(Pray disbelieve it, if you please), +On a joint of meat, a pudding, and a little bit of cheese. + +In time came those maternal joys +Which take the form of girls or boys, +And strange to say of each they'd one-- +A tiddy-iddy daughter, and a tiddy-iddy son! + +Oh, list to this incredible tale +Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE, +Its truth in one remark you'll sum-- +"Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!" + +My name for truth is gone, I fear, +But, monstrous as it may appear, +They let their drawing-room one day +To an eligible person in the cotton-broking way. + +Whenever THOMSON GREEN fell sick +His wife called in a doctor, quick, +From whom some words like these would come-- +Fiat mist. sumendum haustus, in a cochleyareum. + +For thirty years this curious pair +Hung out in Canonbury Square, +And somehow, wonderful to say, +They loved each other dearly in a quiet sort of way. + +Well, THOMSON GREEN fell ill and died; +For just a year his widow cried, +And then her heart she gave away +To the eligible lodger in the cotton-broking way. + +Oh, list to this incredible tale +Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE, +Its truth in one remark you'll sum-- +"Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!" + + + +Bob Polter + + + +BOB POLTER was a navvy, and +His hands were coarse, and dirty too, +His homely face was rough and tanned, +His time of life was thirty-two. + +He lived among a working clan +(A wife he hadn't got at all), +A decent, steady, sober man-- +No saint, however--not at all. + +He smoked, but in a modest way, +Because he thought he needed it; +He drank a pot of beer a day, +And sometimes he exceeded it. + +At times he'd pass with other men +A loud convivial night or two, +With, very likely, now and then, +On Saturdays, a fight or two. + +But still he was a sober soul, +A labour-never-shirking man, +Who paid his way--upon the whole +A decent English working man. + +One day, when at the Nelson's Head +(For which he may be blamed of you), +A holy man appeared, and said, +"Oh, ROBERT, I'm ashamed of you." + +He laid his hand on ROBERT'S beer +Before he could drink up any, +And on the floor, with sigh and tear, +He poured the pot of "thruppenny." + +"Oh, ROBERT, at this very bar +A truth you'll be discovering, +A good and evil genius are +Around your noddle hovering. + +"They both are here to bid you shun +The other one's society, +For Total Abstinence is one, +The other, Inebriety." + +He waved his hand--a vapour came-- +A wizard POLTER reckoned him; +A bogy rose and called his name, +And with his finger beckoned him. + +The monster's salient points to sum,-- +His heavy breath was portery: +His glowing nose suggested rum: +His eyes were gin-and-WORtery. + +His dress was torn--for dregs of ale +And slops of gin had rusted it; +His pimpled face was wan and pale, +Where filth had not encrusted it. + +"Come, POLTER," said the fiend, "begin, +And keep the bowl a-flowing on-- +A working man needs pints of gin +To keep his clockwork going on." + +BOB shuddered: "Ah, you've made a miss +If you take me for one of you: +You filthy beast, get out of this-- +BOB POLTER don't wan't none of you." + +The demon gave a drunken shriek, +And crept away in stealthiness, +And lo! instead, a person sleek, +Who seemed to burst with healthiness. + +"In me, as your adviser hints, +Of Abstinence you've got a type-- +Of MR. TWEEDIE'S pretty prints +I am the happy prototype. + +"If you abjure the social toast, +And pipes, and such frivolities, +You possibly some day may boast +My prepossessing qualities!" + +BOB rubbed his eyes, and made 'em blink: +"You almost make me tremble, you! +If I abjure fermented drink, +Shall I, indeed, resemble you? + +"And will my whiskers curl so tight? +My cheeks grow smug and muttony? +My face become so red and white? +My coat so blue and buttony? + +"Will trousers, such as yours, array +Extremities inferior? +Will chubbiness assert its sway +All over my exterior? + +"In this, my unenlightened state, +To work in heavy boots I comes; +Will pumps henceforward decorate +My tiddle toddle tootsicums? + +"And shall I get so plump and fresh, +And look no longer seedily? +My skin will henceforth fit my flesh +So tightly and so TWEEDIE-ly?" + +The phantom said, "You'll have all this, +You'll know no kind of huffiness, +Your life will be one chubby bliss, +One long unruffled puffiness!" + +"Be off!" said irritated BOB. +"Why come you here to bother one? +You pharisaical old snob, +You're wuss almost than t'other one! + +"I takes my pipe--I takes my pot, +And drunk I'm never seen to be: +I'm no teetotaller or sot, +And as I am I mean to be!" + + + +The Story Of Prince Agib + + + +Strike the concertina's melancholy string! +Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything! +Let the piano's martial blast +Rouse the Echoes of the Past, +For of AGIB, PRINCE OF TARTARY, I sing! + +Of AGIB, who, amid Tartaric scenes, +Wrote a lot of ballet music in his teens: +His gentle spirit rolls +In the melody of souls-- +Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means. + +Of AGIB, who could readily, at sight, +Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite. +He would diligently play +On the Zoetrope all day, +And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night. + +One winter--I am shaky in my dates-- +Came two starving Tartar minstrels to his gates; +Oh, ALLAH be obeyed, +How infernally they played! +I remember that they called themselves the "Ouaits." + +Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, +I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, +Photographically lined +On the tablet of my mind, +When a yesterday has faded from its page! + +Alas! PRINCE AGIB went and asked them in; +Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scent, and tin. +And when (as snobs would say) +They had "put it all away," +He requested them to tune up and begin. + +Though its icy horror chill you to the core, +I will tell you what I never told before,-- +The consequences true +Of that awful interview, +FOR I LISTENED AT THE KEYHOLE IN THE DOOR! + +They played him a sonata--let me see! +"Medulla oblongata"--key of G. +Then they began to sing +That extremely lovely thing, +Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp." + +He gave them money, more than they could count, +Scent from a most ingenious little fount, +More beer, in little kegs, +Many dozen hard-boiled eggs, +And goodies to a fabulous amount. + +Now follows the dim horror of my tale, +And I feel I'm growing gradually pale, +For, even at this day, +Though its sting has passed away, +When I venture to remember it, I quail! + +The elder of the brothers gave a squeal, +All-overish it made me for to feel; +"Oh, PRINCE," he says, says he, +"IF A PRINCE INDEED YOU BE, +I've a mystery I'm going to reveal! + +"Oh, listen, if you'd shun a horrid death, +To what the gent who's speaking to you saith: +No 'Ouaits' in truth are we, +As you fancy that we be, +For (ter-remble!) I am ALECK--this is BETH!" + +Said AGIB, "Oh! accursed of your kind, +I have heard that ye are men of evil mind!" +BETH gave a dreadful shriek-- +But before he'd time to speak +I was mercilessly collared from behind. + +In number ten or twelve, or even more, +They fastened me full length upon the floor. +On my face extended flat, +I was walloped with a cat +For listening at the keyhole of a door. + +Oh! the horror of that agonizing thrill! +(I can feel the place in frosty weather still). +For a week from ten to four +I was fastened to the floor, +While a mercenary wopped me with a will + +They branded me and broke me on a wheel, +And they left me in an hospital to heal; +And, upon my solemn word, +I have never never heard +What those Tartars had determined to reveal. + +But that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, +I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, +Photographically lined +On the tablet of my mind, +When a yesterday has faded from its page + + + +Ellen McJones Aberdeen + + + +MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN +Was the son of an elderly labouring man; +You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight, +And p'r'aps altogether, shrewd reader, you're right. + +From the bonnie blue Forth to the lovely Deeside, +Round by Dingwall and Wrath to the mouth of the Clyde, +There wasn't a child or a woman or man +Who could pipe with CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN. + +No other could wake such detestable groans, +With reed and with chaunter--with bag and with drones: +All day and ill night he delighted the chiels +With sniggering pibrochs and jiggety reels. + +He'd clamber a mountain and squat on the ground, +And the neighbouring maidens would gather around +To list to the pipes and to gaze in his een, +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. + +All loved their McCLAN, save a Sassenach brute, +Who came to the Highlands to fish and to shoot; +He dressed himself up in a Highlander way, +Tho' his name it was PATTISON CORBY TORBAY. + +TORBAY had incurred a good deal of expense +To make him a Scotchman in every sense; +But this is a matter, you'll readily own, +That isn't a question of tailors alone. + +A Sassenach chief may be bonily built, +He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, and kilt; +Stick a skean in his hose--wear an acre of stripes-- +But he cannot assume an affection for pipes. + +CLONGLOCKETY'S pipings all night and all day +Quite frenzied poor PATTISON CORBY TORBAY; +The girls were amused at his singular spleen, +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN, + +"MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS, my lad, +With pibrochs and reels you are driving me mad. +If you really must play on that cursed affair, +My goodness! play something resembling an air." + +Boiled over the blood of MACPHAIRSON McCLAN-- +The Clan of Clonglocketty rose as one man; +For all were enraged at the insult, I ween-- +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. + +"Let's show," said McCLAN, "to this Sassenach loon +That the bagpipes CAN play him a regular tune. +Let's see," said McCLAN, as he thoughtfully sat, +"'IN MY COTTAGE' is easy--I'll practise at that." + +He blew at his "Cottage," and blew with a will, +For a year, seven months, and a fortnight, until +(You'll hardly believe it) McCLAN, I declare, +Elicited something resembling an air. + +It was wild--it was fitful--as wild as the breeze-- +It wandered about into several keys; +It was jerky, spasmodic, and harsh, I'm aware; +But still it distinctly suggested an air. + +The Sassenach screamed, and the Sassenach danced; +He shrieked in his agony--bellowed and pranced; +And the maidens who gathered rejoiced at the scene-- +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. + +"Hech gather, hech gather, hech gather around; +And fill a' ye lugs wi' the exquisite sound. +An air fra' the bagpipes--beat that if ye can! +Hurrah for CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN!" + +The fame of his piping spread over the land: +Respectable widows proposed for his hand, +And maidens came flocking to sit on the green-- +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. + +One morning the fidgety Sassenach swore +He'd stand it no longer--he drew his claymore, +And (this was, I think, in extremely bad taste) +Divided CLONGLOCKETTY close to the waist. + +Oh! loud were the wailings for ANGUS McCLAN, +Oh! deep was the grief for that excellent man; +The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene-- +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. + +It sorrowed poor PATTISON CORBY TORBAY +To find them "take on" in this serious way; +He pitied the poor little fluttering birds, +And solaced their souls with the following words: + +"Oh, maidens," said PATTISON, touching his hat, +"Don't blubber, my dears, for a fellow like that; +Observe, I'm a very superior man, +A much better fellow than ANGUS McCLAN." + +They smiled when he winked and addressed them as "dears," +And they all of them vowed, as they dried up their tears, +A pleasanter gentleman never was seen-- +Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN. + + + +Peter The Wag + + + +Policeman PETER forth I drag +From his obscure retreat: +He was a merry genial wag, +Who loved a mad conceit. +If he were asked the time of day, +By country bumpkins green, +He not unfrequently would say, +"A quarter past thirteen." + +If ever you by word of mouth +Inquired of MISTER FORTH +The way to somewhere in the South, +He always sent you North. +With little boys his beat along +He loved to stop and play; +He loved to send old ladies wrong, +And teach their feet to stray. + +He would in frolic moments, when +Such mischief bent upon, +Take Bishops up as betting men-- +Bid Ministers move on. +Then all the worthy boys he knew +He regularly licked, +And always collared people who +Had had their pockets picked. + +He was not naturally bad, +Or viciously inclined, +But from his early youth he had +A waggish turn of mind. +The Men of London grimly scowled +With indignation wild; +The Men of London gruffly growled, +But PETER calmly smiled. + +Against this minion of the Crown +The swelling murmurs grew-- +From Camberwell to Kentish Town-- +From Rotherhithe to Kew. +Still humoured he his wagsome turn, +And fed in various ways +The coward rage that dared to burn, +But did not dare to blaze. + +Still, Retribution has her day, +Although her flight is slow: +ONE DAY THAT CRUSHER LOST HIS WAY +NEAR POLAND STREET, SOHO. +The haughty boy, too proud to ask, +To find his way resolved, +And in the tangle of his task +Got more and more involved. + +The Men of London, overjoyed, +Came there to jeer their foe, +And flocking crowds completely cloyed +The mazes of Soho. +The news on telegraphic wires +Sped swiftly o'er the lea, +Excursion trains from distant shires +Brought myriads to see. + +For weeks he trod his self-made beats +Through Newport- Gerrard- Bear- +Greek- Rupert- Frith- Dean- Poland- Streets, +And into Golden Square. +But all, alas! in vain, for when +He tried to learn the way +Of little boys or grown-up men, +They none of them would say. + +Their eyes would flash--their teeth would grind-- +Their lips would tightly curl-- +They'd say, "Thy way thyself must find, +Thou misdirecting churl!" +And, similarly, also, when +He tried a foreign friend; +Italians answered, "Il balen"-- +The French, "No comprehend." + +The Russ would say with gleaming eye +" Sevastopol!" and groan. +The Greek said, [Greek text], +[Greek text]." +To wander thus for many a year +That Crusher never ceased-- +The Men of London dropped a tear, +Their anger was appeased + +At length exploring gangs were sent +To find poor FORTH'S remains-- +A handsome grant by Parliament +Was voted for their pains. +To seek the poor policeman out +Bold spirits volunteered, +And when they swore they'd solve the doubt, +The Men of London cheered. + +And in a yard, dark, dank, and drear, +They found him, on the floor-- +It leads from Richmond Buildings--near +The Royalty stage-door. +With brandy cold and brandy hot +They plied him, starved and wet, +And made him sergeant on the spot-- +The Men of London's pet! + + + +Ben Allah Achmet;--Or, The Fatal Tum + + + +I once did know a Turkish man +Whom I upon a two-pair-back met, +His name it was EFFENDI KHAN +BACKSHEESH PASHA BEN ALLAH ACHMET. + +A DOCTOR BROWN I also knew-- +I've often eaten of his bounty; +The Turk and he they lived at Hooe, +In Sussex, that delightful county! + +I knew a nice young lady there, +Her name was EMILY MACPHERSON, +And though she wore another's hair, +She was an interesting person. + +The Turk adored the maid of Hooe +(Although his harem would have shocked her). +But BROWN adored that maiden too: +He was a most seductive doctor. + +They'd follow her where'er she'd go-- +A course of action most improper; +She neither knew by sight, and so +For neither of them cared a copper. + +BROWN did not know that Turkish male, +He might have been his sainted mother: +The people in this simple tale +Are total strangers to each other. + +One day that Turk he sickened sore, +And suffered agonies oppressive; +He threw himself upon the floor +And rolled about in pain excessive. + +It made him moan, it made him groan, +And almost wore him to a mummy. +Why should I hesitate to own +That pain was in his little tummy? + +At length a doctor came, and rung +(As ALLAH ACHMET had desired), +Who felt his pulse, looked up his tongue, +And hemmed and hawed, and then inquired: + +"Where is the pain that long has preyed +Upon you in so sad a way, sir?" +The Turk he giggled, blushed, and said: +I don't exactly like to say, sir." + +"Come, nonsense!" said good DOCTOR BROWN. +"So this is Turkish coyness, is it? +You must contrive to fight it down-- +Come, come, sir, please to be explicit." + +The Turk he shyly bit his thumb, +And coyly blushed like one half-witted, +"The pain is in my little tum," +He, whispering, at length admitted. + +"Then take you this, and take you that-- +Your blood flows sluggish in its channel-- +You must get rid of all this fat, +And wear my medicated flannel. + +"You'll send for me when you're in need-- +My name is BROWN--your life I've saved it." +"My rival!" shrieked the invalid, +And drew a mighty sword and waved it: + +"This to thy weazand, Christian pest!" +Aloud the Turk in frenzy yelled it, +And drove right through the doctor's chest +The sabre and the hand that held it. + +The blow was a decisive one, +And DOCTOR BROWN grew deadly pasty, +"Now see the mischief that you've done-- +You Turks are so extremely hasty. + +"There are two DOCTOR BROWNS in Hooe-- +HE'S short and stout, I'M tall and wizen; +You've been and run the wrong one through, +That's how the error has arisen." + +The accident was thus explained, +Apologies were only heard now: +"At my mistake I'm really pained-- +I am, indeed--upon my word now. + +"With me, sir, you shall be interred, +A mausoleum grand awaits me." +"Oh, pray don't say another word, +I'm sure that more than compensates me. + +"But p'r'aps, kind Turk, you're full inside?" +"There's room," said he, "for any number." +And so they laid them down and died. +In proud Stamboul they sleep their slumber, + + + +The Three Kings Of Chickeraboo + + + +There were three niggers of Chickeraboo-- +PACIFICO, BANG-BANG, POPCHOP--who +Exclaimed, one terribly sultry day, +"Oh, let's be kings in a humble way." + +The first was a highly-accomplished "bones," +The next elicited banjo tones, +The third was a quiet, retiring chap, +Who danced an excellent break-down "flap." + +"We niggers," said they, "have formed a plan +By which, whenever we like, we can +Extemporise kingdoms near the beach, +And then we'll collar a kingdom each. + +"Three casks, from somebody else's stores, +Shall represent our island shores, +Their sides the ocean wide shall lave, +Their heads just topping the briny wave. + +"Great Britain's navy scours the sea, +And everywhere her ships they be; +She'll recognise our rank, perhaps, +When she discovers we're Royal Chaps. + +"If to her skirts you want to cling, +It's quite sufficient that you're a king; +She does not push inquiry far +To learn what sort of king you are." + +A ship of several thousand tons, +And mounting seventy-something guns, +Ploughed, every year, the ocean blue, +Discovering kings and countries new. + +The brave REAR-ADMIRAL BAILEY PIP, +Commanding that magnificent ship, +Perceived one day, his glasses through, +The kings that came from Chickeraboo. + +"Dear eyes!" said ADMIRAL PIP, "I see +Three flourishing islands on our lee. +And, bless me! most remarkable thing! +On every island stands a king! + +"Come, lower the Admiral's gig," he cried, +"And over the dancing waves I'll glide; +That low obeisance I may do +To those three kings of Chickeraboo!" + +The Admiral pulled to the islands three; +The kings saluted him graciousLEE. +The Admiral, pleased at his welcome warm, +Unrolled a printed Alliance form. + +"Your Majesty, sign me this, I pray-- +I come in a friendly kind of way-- +I come, if you please, with the best intents, +And QUEEN VICTORIA'S compliments." + +The kings were pleased as they well could be; +The most retiring of the three, +In a "cellar-flap" to his joy gave vent +With a banjo-bones accompaniment. + +The great REAR-ADMIRAL BAILEY PIP +Embarked on board his jolly big ship, +Blue Peter flew from his lofty fore, +And off he sailed to his native shore. + +ADMIRAL PIP directly went +To the Lord at the head of the Government, +Who made him, by a stroke of a quill, +BARON DE PIPPE, OF PIPPETONNEVILLE. + +The College of Heralds permission yield +That he should quarter upon his shield +Three islands, vert, on a field of blue, +With the pregnant motto "Chickeraboo." + +Ambassadors, yes, and attaches, too, +Are going to sail for Chickeraboo. +And, see, on the good ship's crowded deck, +A bishop, who's going out there on spec. + +And let us all hope that blissful things +May come of alliance with darky kings, +And, may we never, whatever we do, +Declare a war with Chickeraboo! + + + +Joe Golightly--Or, The First Lord's Daughter + + + +A tar, but poorly prized, +Long, shambling, and unsightly, +Thrashed, bullied, and despised, +Was wretched JOE GOLIGHTLY. + +He bore a workhouse brand; +No Pa or Ma had claimed him, +The Beadle found him, and +The Board of Guardians named him. + +P'r'aps some Princess's son-- +A beggar p'r'aps his mother. +HE rather thought the one, +I rather think the other. + +He liked his ship at sea, +He loved the salt sea-water, +He worshipped junk, and he +Adored the First Lord's daughter. + +The First Lord's daughter, proud, +Snubbed Earls and Viscounts nightly; +She sneered at Barts. aloud, +And spurned poor Joe Golightly. + +Whene'er he sailed afar +Upon a Channel cruise, he +Unpacked his light guitar +And sang this ballad (Boosey): + + +Ballad + +The moon is on the sea, +Willow! +The wind blows towards the lee, +Willow! +But though I sigh and sob and cry, +No Lady Jane for me, +Willow! + +She says, "'Twere folly quite, +Willow! +For me to wed a wight, +Willow! +Whose lot is cast before the mast"; +And possibly she's right, +Willow! + + +His skipper (CAPTAIN JOYCE), +He gave him many a rating, +And almost lost his voice +From thus expostulating: + +"Lay aft, you lubber, do! +What's come to that young man, JOE? +Belay!--'vast heaving! you! +Do kindly stop that banjo! + +"I wish, I do--O lor'!-- +You'd shipped aboard a trader: +ARE you a sailor or +A negro serenader?" + +But still the stricken lad, +Aloft or on his pillow, +Howled forth in accents sad +His aggravating "Willow!" + +Stern love of duty bad +Been JOYCE'S chiefest beauty; +Says he, "I love that lad, +But duty, damme! duty! + +"Twelve months' black-hole, I say, +Where daylight never flashes; +And always twice a day +A good six dozen lashes!" + +But JOSEPH had a mate, +A sailor stout and lusty, +A man of low estate, +But singularly trusty. + +Says he, "Cheer hup, young JOE! +I'll tell you what I'm arter-- +To that Fust Lord I'll go +And ax him for his darter. + +"To that Fust Lord I'll go +And say you love her dearly." +And JOE said (weeping low), +"I wish you would, sincerely!" + +That sailor to that Lord +Went, soon as he had landed, +And of his own accord +An interview demanded. + +Says he, with seaman's roll, +"My Captain (wot's a Tartar) +Guv JOE twelve months' black-hole, +For lovering your darter. + +"He loves MISS LADY JANE +(I own she is his betters), +But if you'll jine them twain, +They'll free him from his fetters. + +"And if so be as how +You'll let her come aboard ship, +I'll take her with me now." +"Get out!" remarked his Lordship. + +That honest tar repaired +To JOE upon the billow, +And told him how he'd fared. +JOE only whispered, "Willow!" + +And for that dreadful crime +(Young sailors, learn to shun it) +He's working out his time; +In six months he'll have done it. + + + +To The Terrestrial Globe. By A Miserable Wretch + + + +Roll on, thou ball, roll on! +Through pathless realms of Space +Roll on! +What though I'm in a sorry case? +What though I cannot meet my bills? +What though I suffer toothache's ills? +What though I swallow countless pills? +Never YOU mind! +Roll on! + +Roll on, thou ball, roll on! +Through seas of inky air +Roll on! +It's true I've got no shirts to wear; +It's true my butcher's bill is due; +It's true my prospects all look blue-- +But don't let that unsettle you! +Never YOU mind! +Roll on! + +[It rolls on. + + + +Gentle Alice Brown + + + +It was a robber's daughter, and her name was ALICE BROWN, +Her father was the terror of a small Italian town; +Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing; +But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing. + +As ALICE was a-sitting at her window-sill one day, +A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way; +She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true, +That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!" + +And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen, +She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten; +A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road +(The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode). + +But ALICE was a pious girl, who knew it wasn't wise +To look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes; +So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed, +The priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed. + +"Oh, holy father," ALICE said, "'t would grieve you, would it not, +To discover that I was a most disreputable lot? +Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy one!" +The padre said, "Whatever have you been and gone and done?" + +"I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad, +I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad, +I've planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque, +And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!" + +The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear, +And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear: +It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece; +But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece. + +"Girls will be girls--you're very young, and flighty in your mind; +Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find: +We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks-- +Let's see--five crimes at half-a-crown--exactly twelve-and-six." + +"Oh, father," little Alice cried, "your kindness makes me weep, +You do these little things for me so singularly cheap-- +Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget; +But, oh! there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet! + +"A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes, +I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a-catching flies; +He passes by it every day as certain as can be-- +I blush to say I've winked at him, and he has winked at me!" + +"For shame!" said FATHER PAUL, "my erring daughter! On my word +This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard. +Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand +To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band! + +"This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so! +They are the most remunerative customers I know; +For many many years they've kept starvation from my doors: +I never knew so criminal a family as yours! + +"The common country folk in this insipid neighbourhood +Have nothing to confess, they're so ridiculously good; +And if you marry any one respectable at all, +Why, you'll reform, and what will then become of FATHER PAUL?" + +The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown, +And started off in haste to tell the news to ROBBER BROWN-- +To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit, +Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it. + +Good ROBBER BROWN he muffled up his anger pretty well: +He said, "I have a notion, and that notion I will tell; +I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits, +And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits. + +"I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two: +Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do-- +A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall +When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small." + +He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square; +He watched his opportunity, and seized him unaware; +He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head, +And MRS. BROWN dissected him before she went to bed. + +And pretty little ALICE grew more settled in her mind, +She never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind, +Until at length good ROBBER BROWN bestowed her pretty hand +On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BAB BALLADS *** + +This file should be named 2babb10.txt or 2babb10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 2babb11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 2babb10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Gilbert) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Bab Ballads + +Author: W. S. Gilbert + +Release Date: June, 1997 [EBook #931] +[This file was first posted on June 2, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>THE BAB BALLADS</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>Contents:</p> +<p>Captain Reece<br />The Rival Curates<br />Only A Dancing Girl<br />General +John<br />To A Little Maid—By A Policeman<br />John And Freddy<br />Sir +Guy The Crusader<br />Haunted<br />The Bishop And The `Busman<br />The +Troubadour<br />Ferdinando And Elvira; Or, The Gentle Pieman<br />Lorenzo +De Lardy<br />Disillusioned—By An Ex-Enthusiast<br />Babette’s +Love<br />To My Bride—(Whoever She May Be)<br />The Folly Of Brown—By +A General Agent<br />Sir Macklin<br />The Yarn Of The “Nancy Bell”<br />The +Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo<br />The Precocious Baby. A Very True Tale<br />To +Phoebe<br />Baines Carew, Gentleman<br />Thomas Winterbottom Hance<br />The +Reverend Micah Sowls<br />A Discontented Sugar Broker<br />The Pantomime +“Super” To His Mask<br />The Force Of Argument<br />The +Ghost, The Gallant, The Gael, And The Goblin<br />The Phantom Curate. +A Fable<br />The Sensation Captain<br />Tempora Mutantur<br />At A Pantomime. +By A Bilious One<br />King Borria Bungalee Boo<br />The Periwinkle Girl<br />Thomson +Green And Harriet Hale<br />Bob Polter<br />The Story Of Prince Agib<br />Ellen +McJones Aberdeen<br />Peter The Wag<br />Ben Allah Achmet;—Or, +The Fatal Tum<br />The Three Kings Of Chickeraboo<br />Joe Golightly—Or, +The First Lord’s Daughter<br />To The Terrestrial Globe. +By A Miserable Wretch<br />Gentle Alice Brown</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Captain Reece</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Of all the ships upon the blue,<br />No ship contained a better crew<br />Than +that of worthy CAPTAIN REECE,<br />Commanding of <i>The Mantelpiece</i>.</p> +<p>He was adored by all his men,<br />For worthy CAPTAIN REECE, R.N.,<br />Did +all that lay within him to<br />Promote the comfort of his crew.</p> +<p>If ever they were dull or sad,<br />Their captain danced to them +like mad,<br />Or told, to make the time pass by,<br />Droll legends +of his infancy.</p> +<p>A feather bed had every man,<br />Warm slippers and hot-water can,<br />Brown +windsor from the captain’s store,<br />A valet, too, to every +four.</p> +<p>Did they with thirst in summer burn,<br />Lo, seltzogenes at every +turn,<br />And on all very sultry days<br />Cream ices handed round +on trays.</p> +<p>Then currant wine and ginger pops<br />Stood handily on all the “tops;”<br />And +also, with amusement rife,<br />A “Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life.”</p> +<p>New volumes came across the sea<br />From MISTER MUDIE’S libraree;<br /><i>The +Times</i> and<i> Saturday Review<br /></i>Beguiled the leisure of the +crew.</p> +<p>Kind-hearted CAPTAIN REECE, R.N.,<br />Was quite devoted to his men;<br />In +point of fact, good CAPTAIN REECE<br />Beatified <i>The Mantelpiece.</i></p> +<p>One summer eve, at half-past ten,<br />He said (addressing all his +men):<br />“Come, tell me, please, what I can do<br />To please +and gratify my crew.</p> +<p>“By any reasonable plan<br />I’ll make you happy if I +can;<br />My own convenience count as <i>nil</i>:<br />It is my duty, +and I will.”</p> +<p>Then up and answered WILLIAM LEE<br />(The kindly captain’s +coxswain he,<br />A nervous, shy, low-spoken man),<br />He cleared his +throat and thus began:</p> +<p>“You have a daughter, CAPTAIN REECE,<br />Ten female cousins +and a niece,<br />A Ma, if what I’m told is true,<br />Six sisters, +and an aunt or two.</p> +<p>“Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,<br />More friendly-like +we all should be,<br />If you united of ’em to<br />Unmarried +members of the crew.</p> +<p>“If you’d ameliorate our life,<br />Let each select from +them a wife;<br />And as for nervous me, old pal,<br />Give me your +own enchanting gal!”</p> +<p>Good CAPTAIN REECE, that worthy man,<br />Debated on his coxswain’s +plan:<br />“I quite agree,” he said, “O BILL;<br />It +is my duty, and I will.</p> +<p>“My daughter, that enchanting gurl,<br />Has just been promised +to an Earl,<br />And all my other familee<br />To peers of various degree.</p> +<p>“But what are dukes and viscounts to<br />The happiness of +all my crew?<br />The word I gave you I’ll fulfil;<br />It is +my duty, and I will.</p> +<p>“As you desire it shall befall,<br />I’ll settle thousands +on you all,<br />And I shall be, despite my hoard,<br />The only bachelor +on board.”</p> +<p>The boatswain of <i>The Mantelpiece,<br /></i>He blushed and spoke +to CAPTAIN REECE:<br />“I beg your honour’s leave,” +he said;<br />“If you would wish to go and wed,</p> +<p>“I have a widowed mother who<br />Would be the very thing for +you—<br />She long has loved you from afar:<br />She washes for +you, CAPTAIN R.”</p> +<p>The Captain saw the dame that day—<br />Addressed her in his +playful way—<br />“And did it want a wedding ring?<br />It +was a tempting ickle sing!</p> +<p>“Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,<br />We’ll all +be married this day week<br />At yonder church upon the hill;<br />It +is my duty, and I will!”</p> +<p>The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,<br />And widowed Ma of CAPTAIN +REECE,<br />Attended there as they were bid;<br />It was their duty, +and they did.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Rival Curates</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>List while the poet trolls<br />Of MR. CLAYTON HOOPER,<br />Who had +a cure of souls<br />At Spiffton-extra-Sooper.</p> +<p>He lived on curds and whey,<br />And daily sang their praises,<br />And +then he’d go and play<br />With buttercups and daisies.</p> +<p>Wild croquêt HOOPER banned,<br />And all the sports of Mammon,<br />He +warred with cribbage, and<br />He exorcised backgammon.</p> +<p>His helmet was a glance<br />That spoke of holy gladness;<br />A +saintly smile his lance;<br />His shield a tear of sadness.</p> +<p>His Vicar smiled to see<br />This armour on him buckled:<br />With +pardonable glee<br />He blessed himself and chuckled.</p> +<p>“In mildness to abound<br />My curate’s sole design is;<br />In +all the country round<br />There’s none so mild as mine is!”</p> +<p>And HOOPER, disinclined<br />His trumpet to be blowing,<br />Yet +didn’t think you’d find<br />A milder curate going.</p> +<p>A friend arrived one day<br />At Spiffton-extra-Sooper,<br />And +in this shameful way<br />He spoke to Mr. HOOPER:</p> +<p>“You think your famous name<br />For mildness can’t be +shaken,<br />That none can blot your fame—<br />But, HOOPER, you’re +mistaken!</p> +<p>“Your mind is not as blank<br />As that of HOPLEY PORTER,<br />Who +holds a curate’s rank<br />At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.</p> +<p>“<i>He</i> plays the airy flute,<br />And looks depressed and +blighted,<br />Doves round about him ‘toot,’<br />And lambkins +dance delighted.</p> +<p>“<i>He</i> labours more than you<br />At worsted work, and +frames it;<br />In old maids’ albums, too,<br />Sticks seaweed—yes, +and names it!”</p> +<p>The tempter said his say,<br />Which pierced him like a needle—<br />He +summoned straight away<br />His sexton and his beadle.</p> +<p>(These men were men who could<br />Hold liberal opinions:<br />On +Sundays they were good—<br />On week-days they were minions.)</p> +<p>“To HOPLEY PORTER go,<br />Your fare I will afford you—<br /> Deal +him a deadly blow,<br />And blessings shall reward you.</p> +<p>“But stay—I do not like<br />Undue assassination,<br />And +so before you strike,<br />Make this communication:</p> +<p>“I’ll give him this one chance—<br />If he’ll +more gaily bear him,<br />Play croquêt, smoke, and dance,<br />I +willingly will spare him.”</p> +<p>They went, those minions true,<br />To Assesmilk-cum-Worter,<br />And +told their errand to<br />The REVEREND HOPLEY PORTER.</p> +<p>“What?” said that reverend gent,<br />“Dance through +my hours of leisure?<br />Smoke?—bathe myself with scent?—<br />Play +croquêt? Oh, with pleasure!</p> +<p>“Wear all my hair in curl?<br />Stand at my door and wink—so—<br />At +every passing girl?<br />My brothers, I should think so!</p> +<p>“For years I’ve longed for some<br />Excuse for this +revulsion:<br />Now that excuse has come—<br />I do it on compulsion!!!”</p> +<p>He smoked and winked away—<br />This REVEREND HOPLEY PORTER—<br />The +deuce there was to pay<br />At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.</p> +<p>And HOOPER holds his ground,<br />In mildness daily growing—<br />They +think him, all around,<br />The mildest curate going.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Only A Dancing Girl</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Only a dancing girl,<br />With an unromantic style,<br />With borrowed +colour and curl,<br />With fixed mechanical smile,<br />With many a +hackneyed wile,<br />With ungrammatical lips,<br />And corns that mar +her trips.</p> +<p>Hung from the “flies” in air,<br />She acts a palpable +lie,<br />She’s as little a fairy there<br />As unpoetical I!<br />I +hear you asking, Why—<br />Why in the world I sing<br />This tawdry, +tinselled thing?</p> +<p>No airy fairy she,<br />As she hangs in arsenic green<br />From a +highly impossible tree<br />In a highly impossible scene<br />(Herself +not over-clean).<br />For fays don’t suffer, I’m told,<br />From +bunions, coughs, or cold.</p> +<p>And stately dames that bring<br />Their daughters there to see,<br />Pronounce +the “dancing thing”<br />No better than she should be,<br />With +her skirt at her shameful knee,<br />And her painted, tainted phiz:<br />Ah, +matron, which of us is?</p> +<p>(And, in sooth, it oft occurs<br />That while these matrons sigh,<br />Their +dresses are lower than hers,<br />And sometimes half as high;<br />And +their hair is hair they buy,<br />And they use their glasses, too,<br />In +a way she’d blush to do.)</p> +<p>But change her gold and green<br />For a coarse merino gown,<br />And +see her upon the scene<br />Of her home, when coaxing down<br />Her +drunken father’s frown,<br />In his squalid cheerless den:<br />She’s +a fairy truly, then!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>General John</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The bravest names for fire and flames<br />And all that mortal durst,<br />Were +GENERAL JOHN and PRIVATE JAMES,<br />Of the Sixty-seventy-first.</p> +<p>GENERAL JOHN was a soldier tried,<br />A chief of warlike dons;<br />A +haughty stride and a withering pride<br />Were MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN’S.</p> +<p>A sneer would play on his martial phiz,<br />Superior birth to show;<br />“Pish!” +was a favourite word of his,<br />And he often said “Ho! ho!”</p> +<p>FULL-PRIVATE JAMES described might be,<br />As a man of a mournful +mind;<br />No characteristic trait had he<br />Of any distinctive kind.</p> +<p>From the ranks, one day, cried PRIVATE JAMES,<br />“Oh! MAJOR-GENERAL +JOHN,<br />I’ve doubts of our respective names,<br />My mournful +mind upon.</p> +<p>“A glimmering thought occurs to me<br />(Its source I can’t +unearth),<br />But I’ve a kind of a notion we<br />Were cruelly +changed at birth.</p> +<p>“I’ve a strange idea that each other’s names<br />We’ve +each of us here got on.<br />Such things have been,” said PRIVATE +JAMES.<br />“They have!” sneered GENERAL JOHN.</p> +<p>“My GENERAL JOHN, I swear upon<br />My oath I think ’tis +so—”<br />“Pish!” proudly sneered his GENERAL +JOHN,<br />And he also said “Ho! ho!”</p> +<p>“My GENERAL JOHN! my GENERAL JOHN!<br />My GENERAL JOHN!” +quoth he,<br />“This aristocratical sneer upon<br />Your face +I blush to see!</p> +<p>“No truly great or generous cove<br />Deserving of them names,<br />Would +sneer at a fixed idea that’s drove<br />In the mind of a PRIVATE +JAMES!”</p> +<p>Said GENERAL JOHN, “Upon your claims<br />No need your breath +to waste;<br />If this is a joke, FULL-PRIVATE JAMES,<br />It’s +a joke of doubtful taste.</p> +<p>“But, being a man of doubtless worth,<br />If you feel certain +quite<br />That we were probably changed at birth,<br />I’ll venture +to say you’re right.”</p> +<p>So GENERAL JOHN as PRIVATE JAMES<br />Fell in, parade upon;<br />And +PRIVATE JAMES, by change of names,<br />Was MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>To A Little Maid—By A Policeman</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Come with me, little maid,<br />Nay, shrink not, thus afraid—<br />I’ll +harm thee not!<br />Fly not, my love, from me—<br />I have a home +for thee—<br />A fairy grot,<br />Where mortal eye<br />Can rarely +pry,<br />There shall thy dwelling be!</p> +<p>List to me, while I tell<br />The pleasures of that cell,<br />Oh, +little maid!<br />What though its couch be rude,<br />Homely the only +food<br />Within its shade?<br />No thought of care<br />Can enter there,<br />No +vulgar swain intrude!</p> +<p>Come with me, little maid,<br />Come to the rocky shade<br />I love +to sing;<br />Live with us, maiden rare—<br />Come, for we “want” +thee there,<br />Thou elfin thing,<br />To work thy spell,<br />In some +cool cell<br />In stately Pentonville!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>John And Freddy</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>JOHN courted lovely MARY ANN,<br />So likewise did his brother, FREDDY.<br />FRED +was a very soft young man,<br />While JOHN, though quick, was most unsteady.</p> +<p>FRED was a graceful kind of youth,<br />But JOHN was very much the +strongest.<br />“Oh, dance away,” said she, “in truth,<br />I’ll +marry him who dances longest.”</p> +<p>JOHN tries the maiden’s taste to strike<br />With gay, grotesque, +outrageous dresses,<br />And dances comically, like<br />CLODOCHE AND +Co., at the Princess’s.</p> +<p>But FREDDY tries another style,<br />He knows some graceful steps +and does ’em—<br />A breathing Poem—Woman’s +smile—<br />A man all poesy and buzzem.</p> +<p>Now FREDDY’S operatic <i>pas</i>—<br />Now JOHNNY’S +hornpipe seems entrapping:<br />Now FREDDY’S graceful <i>entrechats—<br /></i>Now +JOHNNY’S skilful “cellar-flapping.”</p> +<p>For many hours—for many days—<br />For many weeks performed +each brother,<br />For each was active in his ways,<br />And neither +would give in to t’other.</p> +<p>After a month of this, they say<br />(The maid was getting bored +and moody)<br />A wandering curate passed that way<br />And talked a +lot of goody-goody.</p> +<p>“Oh my,” said he, with solemn frown,<br />“I tremble +for each dancing <i>frater</i>,<br />Like unregenerated clown<br />And +harlequin at some the-ayter.”</p> +<p>He showed that men, in dancing, do<br />Both impiously and absurdly,<br />And +proved his proposition true,<br />With Firstly, Secondly, and Thirdly.</p> +<p>For months both JOHN and FREDDY danced,<br />The curate’s protests +little heeding;<br />For months the curate’s words enhanced<br />The +sinfulness of their proceeding.</p> +<p>At length they bowed to Nature’s rule—<br />Their steps +grew feeble and unsteady,<br />Till FREDDY fainted on a stool,<br />And +JOHNNY on the top of FREDDY.</p> +<p>“Decide!” quoth they, “let him be named,<br />Who +henceforth as his wife may rank you.”<br />“I’ve changed +my views,” the maiden said,<br />“I only marry curates, +thank you!”</p> +<p>Says FREDDY, “Here is goings on!<br />To bust myself with rage +I’m ready.”<br />“I’ll be a curate!” whispers +JOHN—<br />“And I,” exclaimed poetic FREDDY.</p> +<p>But while they read for it, these chaps,<br />The curate booked the +maiden bonny—<br />And when she’s buried him, perhaps,<br />She’ll +marry FREDERICK or JOHNNY.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Sir Guy The Crusader</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Sir GUY was a doughty crusader,<br />A muscular knight,<br />Ever +ready to fight,<br />A very determined invader,<br />And DICKEY DE LION’S +delight.</p> +<p>LENORE was a Saracen maiden,<br />Brunette, statuesque,<br />The +reverse of grotesque,<br />Her pa was a bagman from Aden,<br />Her mother +she played in burlesque.</p> +<p>A <i>coryphée</i>, pretty and loyal,<br />In amber and red<br />The +ballet she led;<br />Her mother performed at the Royal,<br />LENORE +at the Saracen’s Head.</p> +<p>Of face and of figure majestic,<br />She dazzled the cits—<br />Ecstaticised +pits;—<br />Her troubles were only domestic,<br />But drove her +half out of her wits.</p> +<p>Her father incessantly lashed her,<br />On water and bread<br />She +was grudgingly fed;<br />Whenever her father he thrashed her<br />Her +mother sat down on her head.</p> +<p>GUY saw her, and loved her, with reason,<br />For beauty so bright<br />Sent +him mad with delight;<br />He purchased a stall for the season,<br />And +sat in it every night.</p> +<p>His views were exceedingly proper,<br />He wanted to wed,<br />So +he called at her shed<br />And saw her progenitor whop her—<br />Her +mother sit down on her head.</p> +<p>“So pretty,” said he, “and so trusting!<br />You +brute of a dad,<br />You unprincipled cad,<br />Your conduct is really +disgusting,<br />Come, come, now admit it’s too bad!</p> +<p>“You’re a turbaned old Turk, and malignant—<br />Your +daughter LENORE<br />I intensely adore,<br />And I cannot help feeling +indignant,<br />A fact that I hinted before;</p> +<p>“To see a fond father employing<br />A deuce of a knout<br />For +to bang her about,<br />To a sensitive lover’s annoying.”<br />Said +the bagman, “Crusader, get out.”</p> +<p>Says GUY, “Shall a warrior laden<br />With a big spiky knob,<br />Sit +in peace on his cob<br />While a beautiful Saracen maiden<br />Is whipped +by a Saracen snob?</p> +<p>“To London I’ll go from my charmer.”<br />Which +he did, with his loot<br />(Seven hats and a flute),<br />And was nabbed +for his Sydenham armour<br />At MR. BEN-SAMUEL’S suit.</p> +<p>SIR GUY he was lodged in the Compter,<br />Her pa, in a rage,<br />Died +(don’t know his age),<br />His daughter, she married the prompter,<br />Grew +bulky and quitted the stage.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Haunted</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Haunted? Ay, in a social way<br />By a body of ghosts in dread +array;<br />But no conventional spectres they—<br />Appalling, +grim, and tricky:<br />I quail at mine as I’d never quail<br />At +a fine traditional spectre pale,<br />With a turnip head and a ghostly +wail,<br />And a splash of blood on the dickey!</p> +<p>Mine are horrible, social ghosts,—<br />Speeches and women +and guests and hosts,<br />Weddings and morning calls and toasts,<br />In +every bad variety:<br />Ghosts who hover about the grave<br />Of all +that’s manly, free, and brave:<br />You’ll find their names +on the architrave<br />Of that charnel-house, Society.</p> +<p>Black Monday—black as its school-room ink—<br />With +its dismal boys that snivel and think<br />Of its nauseous messes to +eat and drink,<br />And its frozen tank to wash in.<br />That was the +first that brought me grief,<br />And made me weep, till I sought relief<br />In +an emblematical handkerchief,<br />To choke such baby bosh in.</p> +<p>First and worst in the grim array-<br />Ghosts of ghosts that have +gone their way,<br />Which I wouldn’t revive for a single day<br />For +all the wealth of PLUTUS—<br />Are the horrible ghosts that school-days +scared:<br />If the classical ghost that BRUTUS dared<br />Was the ghost +of his “Caesar” unprepared,<br />I’m sure I pity BRUTUS.</p> +<p>I pass to critical seventeen;<br />The ghost of that terrible wedding +scene,<br />When an elderly Colonel stole my Queen,<br />And woke my +dream of heaven.<br />No schoolgirl decked in her nurse-room curls<br />Was +my gushing innocent Queen of Pearls;<br />If she wasn’t a girl +of a thousand girls,<br />She was one of forty-seven!</p> +<p>I see the ghost of my first cigar,<br />Of the thence-arising family +jar—<br />Of my maiden brief (I was at the Bar,<br />And I called +the Judge “Your wushup!”)<br />Of reckless days and reckless +nights,<br />With wrenched-off knockers, extinguished lights,<br />Unholy +songs and tipsy fights,<br />Which I strove in vain to hush up.</p> +<p>Ghosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks,<br />Ghosts of “copy, +declined with thanks,”<br />Of novels returned in endless ranks,<br />And +thousands more, I suffer.<br />The only line to fitly grace<br />My +humble tomb, when I’ve run my race,<br />Is, “Reader, this +is the resting-place<br />Of an unsuccessful duffer.”</p> +<p>I’ve fought them all, these ghosts of mine,<br />But the weapons +I’ve used are sighs and brine,<br />And now that I’m nearly +forty-nine,<br />Old age is my chiefest bogy;<br />For my hair is thinning +away at the crown,<br />And the silver fights with the worn-out brown;<br />And +a general verdict sets me down<br />As an irreclaimable fogy.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Bishop And The ’Busman</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It was a Bishop bold,<br />And London was his see,<br />He was short +and stout and round about<br />And zealous as could be.</p> +<p>It also was a Jew,<br />Who drove a Putney ’bus—<br />For +flesh of swine however fine<br />He did not care a cuss.</p> +<p>His name was HASH BAZ BEN,<br />And JEDEDIAH too,<br />And SOLOMON +and ZABULON—<br />This ’bus-directing Jew.</p> +<p>The Bishop said, said he,<br />“I’ll see what I can do<br />To +Christianise and make you wise,<br />You poor benighted Jew.”</p> +<p>So every blessed day<br />That ’bus he rode outside,<br />From +Fulham town, both up and down,<br />And loudly thus he cried:</p> +<p>“His name is HASH BAZ BEN,<br />And JEDEDIAH too,<br />And +SOLOMON and ZABULON—<br />This ’bus-directing Jew.”</p> +<p>At first the ’busman smiled,<br />And rather liked the fun—<br />He +merely smiled, that Hebrew child,<br />And said, “Eccentric one!”</p> +<p>And gay young dogs would wait<br />To see the ’bus go by<br />(These +gay young dogs, in striking togs),<br />To hear the Bishop cry:</p> +<p>“Observe his grisly beard,<br />His race it clearly shows,<br />He +sticks no fork in ham or pork—<br />Observe, my friends, his nose.</p> +<p>“His name is HASH BAZ BEN,<br />And JEDEDIAH too,<br />And +SOLOMON and ZABULON—<br />This ’bus-directing Jew.”</p> +<p>But though at first amused,<br />Yet after seven years,<br />This +Hebrew child got rather riled,<br />And melted into tears.</p> +<p>He really almost feared<br />To leave his poor abode,<br />His nose, +and name, and beard became<br />A byword on that road.</p> +<p>At length he swore an oath,<br />The reason he would know—<br />“I’ll +call and see why ever he<br />Does persecute me so!”</p> +<p>The good old Bishop sat<br />On his ancestral chair,<br />The ’busman +came, sent up his name,<br />And laid his grievance bare.</p> +<p>“Benighted Jew,” he said<br />(The good old Bishop did),<br />“Be +Christian, you, instead of Jew—<br />Become a Christian kid!</p> +<p>“I’ll ne’er annoy you more.”<br />“Indeed?” +replied the Jew;<br />“Shall I be freed?” “You +will, indeed!”<br />Then “Done!” said he, “with +you!”</p> +<p>The organ which, in man,<br />Between the eyebrows grows,<br />Fell +from his face, and in its place<br />He found a Christian nose.</p> +<p>His tangled Hebrew beard,<br />Which to his waist came down,<br />Was +now a pair of whiskers fair—<br />His name ADOLPHUS BROWN!</p> +<p>He wedded in a year<br />That prelate’s daughter JANE,<br />He’s +grown quite fair—has auburn hair—<br />His wife is far from +plain.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Troubadour</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A TROUBADOUR he played<br />Without a castle wall,<br />Within, a +hapless maid<br />Responded to his call.</p> +<p>“Oh, willow, woe is me!<br />Alack and well-a-day!<br />If +I were only free<br />I’d hie me far away!”</p> +<p>Unknown her face and name,<br />But this he knew right well,<br />The +maiden’s wailing came<br />From out a dungeon cell.</p> +<p>A hapless woman lay<br />Within that dungeon grim—<br />That +fact, I’ve heard him say,<br />Was quite enough for him.</p> +<p>“I will not sit or lie,<br />Or eat or drink, I vow,<br />Till +thou art free as I,<br />Or I as pent as thou.”</p> +<p>Her tears then ceased to flow,<br />Her wails no longer rang,<br />And +tuneful in her woe<br />The prisoned maiden sang:</p> +<p>“Oh, stranger, as you play,<br />I recognize your touch;<br />And +all that I can say<br />Is, thank you very much.”</p> +<p>He seized his clarion straight,<br />And blew thereat, until<br />A +warden oped the gate.<br />“Oh, what might be your will?”</p> +<p>“I’ve come, Sir Knave, to see<br />The master of these +halls:<br />A maid unwillingly<br />Lies prisoned in their walls.”’</p> +<p>With barely stifled sigh<br />That porter drooped his head,<br />With +teardrops in his eye,<br />“A many, sir,” he said.</p> +<p>He stayed to hear no more,<br />But pushed that porter by,<br />And +shortly stood before<br />SIR HUGH DE PECKHAM RYE.</p> +<p>SIR HUGH he darkly frowned,<br />“What would you, sir, with +me?”<br />The troubadour he downed<br />Upon his bended knee.</p> +<p>“I’ve come, DE PECKHAM RYE,<br />To do a Christian task;<br />You +ask me what would I?<br />It is not much I ask.</p> +<p>“Release these maidens, sir,<br />Whom you dominion o’er—<br />Particularly +her<br />Upon the second floor.</p> +<p>“And if you don’t, my lord”—<br />He here +stood bolt upright,<br />And tapped a tailor’s sword—<br />“Come +out, you cad, and fight!”</p> +<p>SIR HUGH he called—and ran<br />The warden from the gate:<br />“Go, +show this gentleman<br />The maid in Forty-eight.”</p> +<p>By many a cell they past,<br />And stopped at length before<br />A +portal, bolted fast:<br />The man unlocked the door.</p> +<p>He called inside the gate<br />With coarse and brutal shout,<br />“Come, +step it, Forty-eight!”<br />And Forty-eight stepped out.</p> +<p>“They gets it pretty hot,<br />The maidens what we cotch—<br />Two +years this lady’s got<br />For collaring a wotch.”</p> +<p>“Oh, ah!—indeed—I see,”<br />The troubadour +exclaimed—<br />“If I may make so free,<br />How is this +castle named?</p> +<p>The warden’s eyelids fill,<br />And sighing, he replied,<br />“Of +gloomy Pentonville<br />This is the female side!”</p> +<p>The minstrel did not wait<br />The Warden stout to thank,<br />But +recollected straight<br />He’d business at the Bank.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ferdinando And Elvira; Or, The Gentle Pieman</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>PART I.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>At a pleasant evening party I had taken down to supper<br />One whom +I will call ELVIRA, and we talked of love and TUPPER,</p> +<p>MR. TUPPER and the Poets, very lightly with them dealing,<br />For +I’ve always been distinguished for a strong poetic feeling.</p> +<p>Then we let off paper crackers, each of which contained a motto,<br />And +she listened while I read them, till her mother told her not to.</p> +<p>Then she whispered, “To the ball-room we had better, dear, +be walking;<br />If we stop down here much longer, really people will +be talking.”</p> +<p>There were noblemen in coronets, and military cousins,<br />There +were captains by the hundred, there were baronets by dozens.</p> +<p>Yet she heeded not their offers, but dismissed them with a blessing,<br />Then +she let down all her back hair, which had taken long in dressing.</p> +<p>Then she had convulsive sobbings in her agitated throttle,<br />Then +she wiped her pretty eyes and smelt her pretty smelling-bottle.</p> +<p>So I whispered, “Dear ELVIRA, say,—what can the +matter be with you?<br />Does anything you’ve eaten, darling POPSY, +disagree with you?”</p> +<p>But spite of all I said, her sobs grew more and more distressing,<br />And +she tore her pretty back hair, which had taken long in dressing.</p> +<p>Then she gazed upon the carpet, at the ceiling, then above me,<br />And +she whispered, “FERDINANDO, do you really, <i>really</i> love +me?”</p> +<p>“Love you?” said I, then I sighed, and then I gazed upon +her sweetly—<br />For I think I do this sort of thing particularly +neatly.</p> +<p>“Send me to the Arctic regions, or illimitable azure,<br />On +a scientific goose-chase, with my COXWELL or my GLAISHER!</p> +<p>“Tell me whither I may hie me—tell me, dear one, that +I may know—<br />Is it up the highest Andes? down a horrible volcano?”</p> +<p>But she said, “It isn’t polar bears, or hot volcanic +grottoes:<br />Only find out who it is that writes those lovely cracker +mottoes!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>PART II.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“Tell me, HENRY WADSWORTH, ALFRED POET CLOSE, or MISTER TUPPER,<br />Do +you write the bon bon mottoes my ELVIRA pulls at supper?”</p> +<p>But HENRY WADSWORTH smiled, and said he had not had that honour;<br />And +ALFRED, too, disclaimed the words that told so much upon her.</p> +<p>“MISTER MARTIN TUPPER, POET CLOSE, I beg of you inform us;”<br />But +my question seemed to throw them both into a rage enormous.</p> +<p>MISTER CLOSE expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to me;<br />And +MISTER MARTIN TUPPER sent the following reply to me:</p> +<p>“A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,”—<br />Which +I know was very clever; but I didn’t understand it.</p> +<p>Seven weary years I wandered—Patagonia, China, Norway,<br />Till +at last I sank exhausted at a pastrycook his doorway.</p> +<p>There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle,<br />So +I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle.</p> +<p>He was plump and he was chubby, he was smooth and he was rosy,<br />And +his little wife was pretty and particularly cosy.</p> +<p>And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with laughter +hearty—<br />He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party.</p> +<p>And I said, “O gentle pieman, why so very, very merry?<br />Is +it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry?”</p> +<p>But he answered, “I’m so happy—no profession could +be dearer—<br />If I am not humming ‘Tra! la! la!’ +I’m singing ‘Tirer, lirer!’</p> +<p>“First I go and make the patties, and the puddings, and the +jellies,<br />Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a table swell +is;</p> +<p>“Then I polish all the silver, which a supper-table lacquers;<br />Then +I write the pretty mottoes which you find inside the crackers.”—</p> +<p>“Found at last!” I madly shouted. “Gentle +pieman, you astound me!”<br />Then I waved the turtle soup enthusiastically +round me.</p> +<p>And I shouted and I danced until he’d quite a crowd around +him—<br />And I rushed away exclaiming, “I have found him! +I have found him!”</p> +<p>And I heard the gentle pieman in the road behind me trilling,<br />“‘Tira, +lira!’ stop him, stop him! ‘Tra! la! la!’ the +soup’s a shilling!”</p> +<p>But until I reached ELVIRA’S home, I never, never waited,<br />And +ELVIRA to her FERDINAND’S irrevocably mated!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Lorenzo De Lardy</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>DALILAH DE DARDY adored<br />The very correctest of cards,<br />LORENZO +DE LARDY, a lord—<br />He was one of Her Majesty’s Guards.</p> +<p>DALILAH DE DARDY was fat,<br />DALILAH DE DARDY was old—<br />(No +doubt in the world about that)<br />But DALILAH DE DARDY had gold.</p> +<p>LORENZO DE LARDY was tall,<br />The flower of maidenly pets,<br />Young +ladies would love at his call,<br />But LORENZO DE LARDY had debts.</p> +<p>His money-position was queer,<br />And one of his favourite freaks<br />Was +to hide himself three times a year,<br />In Paris, for several weeks.</p> +<p>Many days didn’t pass him before<br />He fanned himself into +a flame,<br />For a beautiful “DAM DU COMPTWORE,”<br />And +this was her singular name:</p> +<p>ALICE EULALIE CORALINE<br />EUPHROSINE COLOMBINA THÉRÈSE<br />JULIETTE +STEPHANIE CELESTINE<br />CHARLOTTE RUSSE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE.</p> +<p>She booked all the orders and tin,<br />Accoutred in showy fal-lal,<br />At +a two-fifty Restaurant, in<br />The glittering Palais Royal.</p> +<p>He’d gaze in her orbit of blue,<br />Her hand he would tenderly +squeeze,<br />But the words of her tongue that he knew<br />Were limited +strictly to these:</p> +<p>“CORALINE CELESTINE EULALIE,<br />Houp là! Je +vous aime, oui, mossoo,<br />Combien donnez moi aujourd’hui<br />Bonjour, +Mademoiselle, parlez voo.”</p> +<p>MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE<br />Was a witty and beautiful +miss,<br />Extremely correct in her ways,<br />But her English consisted +of this:</p> +<p>“Oh my! pretty man, if you please,<br />Blom boodin, biftek, +currie lamb,<br />Bouldogue, two franc half, quite ze cheese,<br />Rosbif, +me spik Angleesh, godam.”</p> +<p>A waiter, for seasons before,<br />Had basked in her beautiful gaze,<br />And +burnt to dismember MILOR,<br /><i>He loved</i> DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE.</p> +<p>He said to her, “Méchante THÉRÈSE,<br />Avec +désespoir tu m’accables.<br />Penses-tu, DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE,<br />Ses +intentions sont honorables?</p> +<p>“Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu ôses—<br />Je +me vengerai ainsi, ma chère,<br /><i>Je lui dirai de quoi l’on +compose<br />Vol au vent à la Financière</i>!”</p> +<p>LORD LARDY knew nothing of this—<br />The waiter’s devotion +ignored,<br />But he gazed on the beautiful miss,<br />And never seemed +weary or bored.</p> +<p>The waiter would screw up his nerve,<br />His fingers he’d +snap and he’d dance—<br />And LORD LARDY would smile and +observe,<br />“How strange are the customs of France!”</p> +<p>Well, after delaying a space,<br />His tradesmen no longer would +wait:<br />Returning to England apace,<br />He yielded himself to his +fate.</p> +<p>LORD LARDY espoused, with a groan,<br />MISS DARDY’S developing +charms,<br />And agreed to tag on to his own,<br />Her name and her +newly-found arms.</p> +<p>The waiter he knelt at the toes<br />Of an ugly and thin coryphée,<br />Who +danced in the hindermost rows<br />At the Théatre des Variétés.</p> +<p>MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE<br />Didn’t yield to a +gnawing despair<br />But married a soldier, and plays<br />As a pretty +and pert Vivandière.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Disillusioned—By An Ex-Enthusiast</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Oh, that my soul its gods could see<br />As years ago they seemed +to me<br />When first I painted them;<br />Invested with the circumstance<br />Of +old conventional romance:<br />Exploded theorem!</p> +<p>The bard who could, all men above,<br />Inflame my soul with songs +of love,<br />And, with his verse, inspire<br />The craven soul who +feared to die<br />With all the glow of chivalry<br />And old heroic +fire;</p> +<p>I found him in a beerhouse tap<br />Awaking from a gin-born nap,<br />With +pipe and sloven dress;<br />Amusing chums, who fooled his bent,<br />With +muddy, maudlin sentiment,<br />And tipsy foolishness!</p> +<p>The novelist, whose painting pen<br />To legions of fictitious men<br />A +real existence lends,<br />Brain-people whom we rarely fail,<br />Whene’er +we hear their names, to hail<br />As old and welcome friends;</p> +<p>I found in clumsy snuffy suit,<br />In seedy glove, and blucher boot,<br />Uncomfortably +big.<br />Particularly commonplace,<br />With vulgar, coarse, stockbroking +face,<br />And spectacles and wig.</p> +<p>My favourite actor who, at will,<br />With mimic woe my eyes could +fill<br />With unaccustomed brine:<br />A being who appeared to me<br />(Before +I knew him well) to be<br />A song incarnadine;</p> +<p>I found a coarse unpleasant man<br />With speckled chin—unhealthy, +wan—<br />Of self-importance full:<br />Existing in an atmosphere<br />That +reeked of gin and pipes and beer—<br />Conceited, fractious, dull.</p> +<p>The warrior whose ennobled name<br />Is woven with his country’s +fame,<br />Triumphant over all,<br />I found weak, palsied, bloated, +blear;<br />His province seemed to be, to leer<br />At bonnets in Pall +Mall.</p> +<p>Would that ye always shone, who write,<br />Bathed in your own innate +limelight,<br />And ye who battles wage,<br />Or that in darkness I +had died<br />Before my soul had ever sighed<br />To see you off the +stage!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Babette’s Love</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>BABETTE she was a fisher gal,<br />With jupon striped and cap in +crimps.<br />She passed her days inside the Halle,<br />Or catching +little nimble shrimps.<br />Yet she was sweet as flowers in May,<br />With +no professional bouquet.</p> +<p>JACOT was, of the Customs bold,<br />An officer, at gay Boulogne,<br />He +loved BABETTE—his love he told,<br />And sighed, “Oh, soyez +vous my own!”<br />But “Non!” said she, “JACOT, +my pet,<br />Vous êtes trop scraggy pour BABETTE.</p> +<p>“Of one alone I nightly dream,<br />An able mariner is he,<br />And +gaily serves the Gen’ral Steam-<br />Boat Navigation Companee.<br />I’ll +marry him, if he but will—<br />His name, I rather think, is BILL.</p> +<p>“I see him when he’s not aware,<br />Upon our hospitable +coast,<br />Reclining with an easy air<br />Upon the <i>Port</i> against +a post,<br />A-thinking of, I’ll dare to say,<br />His native +Chelsea far away!”</p> +<p>“Oh, mon!” exclaimed the Customs bold,<br />“Mes +yeux!” he said (which means “my eye”)<br />“Oh, +chère!” he also cried, I’m told,<br />“Par +Jove,” he added, with a sigh.<br />“Oh, mon! oh, chère! +mes yeux! par Jove!<br />Je n’aime pas cet enticing cove!”</p> +<p>The <i>Panther’s</i> captain stood hard by,<br />He was a man +of morals strict<br />If e’er a sailor winked his eye,<br />Straightway +he had that sailor licked,<br />Mast-headed all (such was his code)<br />Who +dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed.</p> +<p>He wept to think a tar of his<br />Should lean so gracefully on posts,<br />He +sighed and sobbed to think of this,<br />On foreign, French, and friendly +coasts.<br />“It’s human natur’, p’raps—if +so,<br />Oh, isn’t human natur’ low!”</p> +<p>He called his BILL, who pulled his curl,<br />He said, “My +BILL, I understand<br />You’ve captivated some young gurl<br />On +this here French and foreign land.<br />Her tender heart your beauties +jog—<br />They do, you know they do, you dog.</p> +<p>“You have a graceful way, I learn,<br />Of leaning airily on +posts,<br />By which you’ve been and caused to burn<br />A tender +flame on these here coasts.<br />A fisher gurl, I much regret,—<br />Her +age, sixteen—her name, BABETTE.</p> +<p>“You’ll marry her, you gentle tar—<br />Your union +I myself will bless,<br />And when you matrimonied are,<br />I will +appoint her stewardess.”<br />But WILLIAM hitched himself and +sighed,<br />And cleared his throat, and thus replied:</p> +<p>“Not so: unless you’re fond of strife,<br />You’d +better mind your own affairs,<br />I have an able-bodied wife<br />Awaiting +me at Wapping Stairs;<br />If all this here to her I tell,<br />She’ll +larrup you and me as well.</p> +<p>“Skin-deep, and valued at a pin,<br />Is beauty such as VENUS +owns—<br /><i>Her</i> beauty is beneath her skin,<br />And lies +in layers on her bones.<br />The other sailors of the crew<br />They +always calls her ‘Whopping Sue!’”</p> +<p>“Oho!” the Captain said, “I see!<br />And is she +then so very strong?”<br />“She’d take your honour’s +scruff,” said he<br />“And pitch you over to Bolong!”<br />“I +pardon you,” the Captain said,<br />“The fair BABETTE you +needn’t wed.”</p> +<p>Perhaps the Customs had his will,<br />And coaxed the scornful girl +to wed,<br />Perhaps the Captain and his BILL,<br />And WILLIAM’S +little wife are dead;<br />Or p’raps they’re all alive and +well:<br />I cannot, cannot, cannot tell.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>To My Bride—(Whoever She May Be)</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Oh! little maid!—(I do not know your name<br />Or who you are, +so, as a safe precaution<br />I’ll add)—Oh, buxom widow! +married dame!<br />(As one of these must be your present portion)<br />Listen, +while I unveil prophetic lore for you,<br />And sing the fate that Fortune +has in store for you.</p> +<p>You’ll marry soon—within a year or twain—<br />A +bachelor of <i>circa</i> two and thirty:<br />Tall, gentlemanly, but +extremely plain,<br />And when you’re intimate, you’ll call +him “BERTIE.”<br />Neat—dresses well; his temper has +been classified<br />As hasty; but he’s very quickly pacified.</p> +<p>You’ll find him working mildly at the Bar,<br />After a touch +at two or three professions,<br />From easy affluence extremely far,<br />A +brief or two on Circuit—“soup” at Sessions;<br />A +pound or two from whist and backing horses,<br />And, say three hundred +from his own resources.</p> +<p>Quiet in harness; free from serious vice,<br />His faults are not +particularly shady,<br />You’ll never find him “<i>shy</i>”—for, +once or twice<br />Already, he’s been driven by a lady,<br />Who +parts with him—perhaps a poor excuse for him—<br />Because +she hasn’t any further use for him.</p> +<p>Oh! bride of mine—tall, dumpy, dark, or fair!<br />Oh! widow—wife, +maybe, or blushing maiden,<br />I’ve told <i>your</i> fortune; +solved the gravest care<br />With which your mind has hitherto been +laden.<br />I’ve prophesied correctly, never doubt it;<br />Now +tell me mine—and please be quick about it!</p> +<p>You—only you—can tell me, an’ you will,<br />To +whom I’m destined shortly to be mated,<br />Will she run up a +heavy <i>modiste’s</i> bill?<br />If so, I want to hear her income +stated<br />(This is a point which interests me greatly).<br />To quote +the bard, “Oh! have I seen her lately?”</p> +<p>Say, must I wait till husband number one<br />Is comfortably stowed +away at Woking?<br />How is her hair most usually done?<br />And tell +me, please, will she object to smoking?<br />The colour of her eyes, +too, you may mention:<br />Come, Sibyl, prophesy—I’m all +attention.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Folly Of Brown—By A General Agent</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I knew a boor—a clownish card<br />(His only friends were pigs +and cows and<br />The poultry of a small farmyard),<br />Who came into +two hundred thousand.</p> +<p>Good fortune worked no change in BROWN,<br />Though she’s a +mighty social chymist;<br />He was a clown—and by a clown<br />I +do not mean a pantomimist.</p> +<p>It left him quiet, calm, and cool,<br />Though hardly knowing what +a crown was—<br />You can’t imagine what a fool<br />Poor +rich uneducated BROWN was!</p> +<p>He scouted all who wished to come<br />And give him monetary schooling;<br />And +I propose to give you some<br />Idea of his insensate fooling.</p> +<p>I formed a company or two—<br />(Of course I don’t know +what the rest meant,<br />I formed them solely with a view<br />To help +him to a sound investment).</p> +<p>Their objects were—their only cares—<br />To justify +their Boards in showing<br />A handsome dividend on shares<br />And +keep their good promoter going.</p> +<p>But no—the lout sticks to his brass,<br />Though shares at +par I freely proffer:<br />Yet—will it be believed?—the +ass<br />Declines, with thanks, my well-meant offer!</p> +<p>He adds, with bumpkin’s stolid grin<br />(A weakly intellect +denoting),<br />He’d rather not invest it in<br />A company of +my promoting!</p> +<p>“You have two hundred ‘thou’ or more,”<br />Said +I. “You’ll waste it, lose it, lend it;<br />Come, +take my furnished second floor,<br />I’ll gladly show you how +to spend it.”</p> +<p>But will it be believed that he,<br />With grin upon his face of +poppy,<br />Declined my aid, while thanking me<br />For what he called +my “philanthroppy”?</p> +<p>Some blind, suspicious fools rejoice<br />In doubting friends who +wouldn’t harm them;<br />They will not hear the charmer’s +voice,<br />However wisely he may charm them!</p> +<p>I showed him that his coat, all dust,<br />Top boots and cords provoked +compassion,<br />And proved that men of station must<br />Conform to +the decrees of fashion.</p> +<p>I showed him where to buy his hat<br />To coat him, trouser him, +and boot him;<br />But no—he wouldn’t hear of that—<br />“He +didn’t think the style would suit him!”</p> +<p>I offered him a county seat,<br />And made no end of an oration;<br />I +made it certainty complete,<br />And introduced the deputation.</p> +<p>But no—the clown my prospect blights—<br />(The worth +of birth it surely teaches!)<br />“Why should I want to spend +my nights<br />In Parliament, a-making speeches?</p> +<p>“I haven’t never been to school—<br />I ain’t +had not no eddication—<br />And I should surely be a fool<br />To +publish that to all the nation!”</p> +<p>I offered him a trotting horse—<br />No hack had ever trotted +faster—<br />I also offered him, of course,<br />A rare and curious +“old master.”</p> +<p>I offered to procure him weeds—<br />Wines fit for one in his +position—<br />But, though an ass in all his deeds,<br />He’d +learnt the meaning of “commission.”</p> +<p>He called me “thief” the other day,<br />And daily from +his door he thrusts me;<br />Much more of this, and soon I may<br />Begin +to think that BROWN mistrusts me.</p> +<p>So deaf to all sound Reason’s rule<br />This poor uneducated +clown is,<br />You can<i>not</i> fancy what a fool<br />Poor rich uneducated +BROWN is.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Sir Macklin</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Of all the youths I ever saw<br />None were so wicked, vain, or silly,<br />So +lost to shame and Sabbath law,<br />As worldly TOM, and BOB, and BILLY.</p> +<p>For every Sabbath day they walked<br />(Such was their gay and thoughtless +natur)<br />In parks or gardens, where they talked<br />From three to +six, or even later.</p> +<p>SIR MACKLIN was a priest severe<br />In conduct and in conversation,<br />It +did a sinner good to hear<br />Him deal in ratiocination.</p> +<p>He could in every action show<br />Some sin, and nobody could doubt +him.<br />He argued high, he argued low,<br />He also argued round about +him.</p> +<p>He wept to think each thoughtless youth<br />Contained of wickedness +a skinful,<br />And burnt to teach the awful truth,<br />That walking +out on Sunday’s sinful.</p> +<p>“Oh, youths,” said he, “I grieve to find<br />The +course of life you’ve been and hit on—<br />Sit down,” +said he, “and never mind<br />The pennies for the chairs you sit +on.</p> +<p>“My opening head is ‘Kensington,’<br />How walking +there the sinner hardens,<br />Which when I have enlarged upon,<br />I +go to ‘Secondly’—its ‘Gardens.’</p> +<p>“My ‘Thirdly’ comprehendeth ‘Hyde,’<br />Of +Secresy the guilts and shameses;<br />My ‘Fourthly’—‘Park’—its +verdure wide—<br />My ‘Fifthly’ comprehends ‘St. +James’s.’</p> +<p>“That matter settled, I shall reach<br />The ‘Sixthly’ +in my solemn tether,<br />And show that what is true of each,<br />Is +also true of all, together.</p> +<p>“Then I shall demonstrate to you,<br />According to the rules +of WHATELY,<br />That what is true of all, is true<br />Of each, considered +separately.”</p> +<p>In lavish stream his accents flow,<br />TOM, BOB, and BILLY dare +not flout him;<br />He argued high, he argued low,<br />He also argued +round about him.</p> +<p>“Ha, ha!” he said, “you loathe your ways,<br />You +writhe at these my words of warning,<br />In agony your hands you raise.”<br />(And +so they did, for they were yawning.)</p> +<p>To “Twenty-firstly” on they go,<br />The lads do not +attempt to scout him;<br />He argued high, he argued low,<br />He also +argued round about him.</p> +<p>“Ho, ho!” he cries, “you bow your crests—<br />My +eloquence has set you weeping;<br />In shame you bend upon your breasts!”<br />(And +so they did, for they were sleeping.)</p> +<p>He proved them this—he proved them that—<br />This good +but wearisome ascetic;<br />He jumped and thumped upon his hat,<br />He +was so very energetic.</p> +<p>His Bishop at this moment chanced<br />To pass, and found the road +encumbered;<br />He noticed how the Churchman danced,<br />And how his +congregation slumbered.</p> +<p>The hundred and eleventh head<br />The priest completed of his stricture;<br />“Oh, +bosh!” the worthy Bishop said,<br />And walked him off as in the +picture.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Yarn Of The “Nancy Bell”</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>’Twas on the shores that round our coast<br />From Deal to +Ramsgate span,<br />That I found alone on a piece of stone<br />An elderly +naval man.</p> +<p>His hair was weedy, his beard was long,<br />And weedy and long was +he,<br />And I heard this wight on the shore recite,<br />In a singular +minor key:</p> +<p>“Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,<br />And the mate of the +<i>Nancy</i> brig,<br />And a bo’sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br />And +the crew of the captain’s gig.”</p> +<p>And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,<br />Till I really felt +afraid,<br />For I couldn’t help thinking the man had been drinking,<br />And +so I simply said:</p> +<p>“Oh, elderly man, it’s little I know<br />Of the duties +of men of the sea,<br />And I’ll eat my hand if I understand<br />However +you can be</p> +<p>“At once a cook, and a captain bold,<br />And the mate of the +<i>Nancy</i> brig,<br />And a bo’sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br />And +the crew of the captain’s gig.”</p> +<p>Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which<br />Is a trick all seamen +larn,<br />And having got rid of a thumping quid,<br />He spun this +painful yarn:</p> +<p>“’Twas in the good ship <i>Nancy Bell<br /></i>That we +sailed to the Indian Sea,<br />And there on a reef we come to grief,<br />Which +has often occurred to me.</p> +<p>“And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned<br />(There was seventy-seven +o’ soul),<br />And only ten of the <i>Nancy’s</i> men<br />Said +‘Here!’ to the muster-roll.</p> +<p>“There was me and the cook and the captain bold,<br />And the +mate of the <i>Nancy</i> brig,<br />And the bo’sun tight, and +a midshipmite,<br />And the crew of the captain’s gig.</p> +<p>“For a month we’d neither wittles nor drink,<br />Till +a-hungry we did feel,<br />So we drawed a lot, and, accordin’ +shot<br />The captain for our meal.</p> +<p>“The next lot fell to the <i>Nancy’s</i> mate,<br />And +a delicate dish he made;<br />Then our appetite with the midshipmite<br />We +seven survivors stayed.</p> +<p>“And then we murdered the bo’sun tight,<br />And he much +resembled pig;<br />Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,<br />On +the crew of the captain’s gig.</p> +<p>“Then only the cook and me was left,<br />And the delicate +question, ‘Which<br />Of us two goes to the kettle?’ arose,<br />And +we argued it out as sich.</p> +<p>“For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,<br />And the cook +he worshipped me;<br />But we’d both be blowed if we’d either +be stowed<br />In the other chap’s hold, you see.</p> +<p>“‘I’ll be eat if you dines off me,’ says +TOM;<br />‘Yes, that,’ says I, ‘you’ll be,—<br />‘I’m +boiled if I die, my friend,’ quoth I;<br />And ‘Exactly +so,’ quoth he.</p> +<p>“Says he, ‘Dear JAMES, to murder me<br />Were a foolish +thing to do,<br />For don’t you see that you can’t cook +<i>me</i>,<br />While I can—and will—cook <i>you</i>!’</p> +<p>“So he boils the water, and takes the salt<br />And the pepper +in portions true<br />(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot.<br />And +some sage and parsley too.</p> +<p>“‘Come here,’ says he, with a proper pride,<br />Which +his smiling features tell,<br />‘’T will soothing be if +I let you see<br />How extremely nice you’ll smell.’</p> +<p>“And he stirred it round and round and round,<br />And he sniffed +at the foaming froth;<br />When I ups with his heels, and smothers his +squeals<br />In the scum of the boiling broth.</p> +<p>“And I eat that cook in a week or less,<br />And—as I +eating be<br />The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,<br />For +a wessel in sight I see!</p> +<p>* * * *</p> +<p>“And I never larf, and I never smile,<br />And I never lark +nor play,<br />But sit and croak, and a single joke<br />I have—which +is to say:</p> +<p>“Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,<br />And the mate of the +<i>Nancy</i> brig,<br />And a bo’sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br />And +the crew of the captain’s gig!’”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>From east and south the holy clan<br />Of Bishops gathered to a man;<br />To +Synod, called Pan-Anglican,<br />In flocking crowds they came.<br />Among +them was a Bishop, who<br />Had lately been appointed to<br />The balmy +isle of Rum-ti-Foo,<br />And PETER was his name.</p> +<p>His people—twenty-three in sum—<br />They played the +eloquent tum-tum,<br />And lived on scalps served up, in rum—<br />The +only sauce they knew.<br />When first good BISHOP PETER came<br />(For +PETER was that Bishop’s name),<br />To humour them, he did the +same<br />As they of Rum-ti-Foo.</p> +<p>His flock, I’ve often heard him tell,<br />(His name was PETER) +loved him well,<br />And, summoned by the sound of bell,<br />In crowds +together came.<br />“Oh, massa, why you go away?<br />Oh, MASSA +PETER, please to stay.”<br />(They called him PETER, people say,<br />Because +it was his name.)</p> +<p>He told them all good boys to be,<br />And sailed away across the +sea,<br />At London Bridge that Bishop he<br />Arrived one Tuesday night;<br />And +as that night he homeward strode<br />To his Pan-Anglican abode,<br />He +passed along the Borough Road,<br />And saw a gruesome sight.</p> +<p>He saw a crowd assembled round<br />A person dancing on the ground,<br />Who +straight began to leap and bound<br />With all his might and main.<br />To +see that dancing man he stopped,<br />Who twirled and wriggled, skipped +and hopped,<br />Then down incontinently dropped,<br />And then sprang +up again.</p> +<p>The Bishop chuckled at the sight.<br />“This style of dancing +would delight<br />A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite.<br />I’ll learn +it if I can,<br />To please the tribe when I get back.”<br />He +begged the man to teach his knack.<br />“Right Reverend Sir, in +half a crack!<br />Replied that dancing man.</p> +<p>The dancing man he worked away,<br />And taught the Bishop every +day—<br />The dancer skipped like any fay—<br />Good PETER +did the same.<br />The Bishop buckled to his task,<br />With <i>battements</i>, +and <i>pas de basque.<br /></i>(I’ll tell you, if you care to +ask,<br />That PETER was his name.)</p> +<p>“Come, walk like this,” the dancer said,<br />“Stick +out your toes—stick in your head,<br />Stalk on with quick, galvanic +tread—<br />Your fingers thus extend;<br />The attitude’s +considered quaint.”<br />The weary Bishop, feeling faint,<br />Replied, +“I do not say it ain’t,<br />But ‘Time!’ my +Christian friend!”</p> +<p>“We now proceed to something new—<br />Dance as the PAYNES +and LAURIS do,<br />Like this—one, two—one, two—one, +two.”<br />The Bishop, never proud,<br />But in an overwhelming +heat<br />(His name was PETER, I repeat)<br />Performed the PAYNE and +LAURI feat,<br />And puffed his thanks aloud.</p> +<p>Another game the dancer planned—<br />“Just take your +ankle in your hand,<br />And try, my lord, if you can stand—<br />Your +body stiff and stark.<br />If, when revisiting your see,<br />You learnt +to hop on shore—like me—<br />The novelty would striking +be,<br />And must attract remark.”</p> +<p>“No,” said the worthy Bishop, “no;<br />That is +a length to which, I trow,<br />Colonial Bishops cannot go.<br />You +may express surprise<br />At finding Bishops deal in pride—<br />But +if that trick I ever tried,<br />I should appear undignified<br />In +Rum-ti-Foozle’s eyes.</p> +<p>“The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo<br />Are well-conducted persons, +who<br />Approve a joke as much as you,<br />And laugh at it as such;<br />But +if they saw their Bishop land,<br />His leg supported in his hand,<br />The +joke they wouldn’t understand—<br />’T would pain +them very much!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Precocious Baby. A Very True Tale</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>(<i>To be sung to the Air of the “Whistling Oyster</i>.”)</p> +<p>An elderly person—a prophet by trade—<br />With his quips +and tips<br />On withered old lips,<br />He married a young and a beautiful +maid;<br />The cunning old blade!<br />Though rather decayed,<br />He +married a beautiful, beautiful maid.</p> +<p>She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be,<br />With her tempting +smiles<br />And maidenly wiles,<br />And he was a trifle past seventy-three:<br />Now +what she could see<br />Is a puzzle to me,<br />In a prophet of seventy—seventy-three!</p> +<p>Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad)<br />With their loud high +jinks<br />And underbred winks,<br />None thought they’d a family +have—but they had;<br />A dear little lad<br />Who drove ’em +half mad,<br />For he turned out a horribly fast little cad.</p> +<p>For when he was born he astonished all by,<br />With their “Law, +dear me!”<br />“Did ever you see?”<br />He’d +a pipe in his mouth and a glass in his eye,<br />A hat all awry—<br />An +octagon tie—<br />And a miniature—miniature glass in his +eye.</p> +<p>He grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap,<br />With his “Oh, +dear, oh!”<br />And his “Hang it! ’oo know!”<br />And +he turned up his nose at his excellent pap—<br />“My friends, +it’s a tap<br />Dat is not worf a rap.”<br />(Now this was +remarkably excellent pap.)</p> +<p>He’d chuck his nurse under the chin, and he’d say,<br />With +his “Fal, lal, lal”—<br />“’Oo doosed +fine gal!”<br />This shocking precocity drove ’em away:<br />“A +month from to-day<br />Is as long as I’ll stay—<br />Then +I’d wish, if you please, for to toddle away.”</p> +<p>His father, a simple old gentleman, he<br />With nursery rhyme<br />And +“Once on a time,”<br />Would tell him the story of “Little +Bo-P,”<br />“So pretty was she,<br />So pretty and wee,<br />As +pretty, as pretty, as pretty could be.”</p> +<p>But the babe, with a dig that would startle an ox,<br />With his +“C’ck! Oh, my!—<br />Go along wiz ’oo, +fie!”<br />Would exclaim, “I’m afraid ’oo a +socking ole fox.”<br />Now a father it shocks,<br />And it whitens +his locks,<br />When his little babe calls him a shocking old fox.</p> +<p>The name of his father he’d couple and pair<br />(With his +ill-bred laugh,<br />And insolent chaff)<br />With those of the nursery +heroines rare—<br />Virginia the Fair,<br />Or Good Goldenhair,<br />Till +the nuisance was more than a prophet could bear.</p> +<p>“There’s Jill and White Cat” (said the bold little +brat,<br />With his loud, “Ha, ha!”)<br />“’Oo +sly ickle Pa!<br />Wiz ’oo Beauty, Bo-Peep, and ’oo Mrs. +Jack Sprat!<br />I’ve noticed ’oo pat<br /><i>My</i> pretty +White Cat—<br />I sink dear mamma ought to know about dat!”</p> +<p>He early determined to marry and wive,<br />For better or worse<br />With +his elderly nurse—<br />Which the poor little boy didn’t +live to contrive:<br />His hearth didn’t thrive—<br />No +longer alive,<br />He died an enfeebled old dotard at five!</p> +<p>MORAL.</p> +<p>Now, elderly men of the bachelor crew,<br />With wrinkled hose<br />And +spectacled nose,<br />Don’t marry at all—you may take it +as true<br />If ever you do<br />The step you will rue,<br />For your +babes will be elderly—elderly too.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>To Phoebe</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Gentle, modest little flower,<br />Sweet epitome of May,<br />Love +me but for half an hour,<br />Love me, love me, little fay.”<br />Sentences +so fiercely flaming<br />In your tiny shell-like ear,<br />I should +always be exclaiming<br />If I loved you, PHOEBE dear.</p> +<p>“Smiles that thrill from any distance<br />Shed upon me while +I sing!<br />Please ecstaticize existence,<br />Love me, oh, thou fairy +thing!”<br />Words like these, outpouring sadly<br />You’d +perpetually hear,<br />If I loved you fondly, madly;—<br />But +I do not, PHOEBE dear.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Baines Carew, Gentleman</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Of all the good attorneys who<br />Have placed their names upon the +roll,<br />But few could equal BAINES CAREW<br />For tender-heartedness +and soul.</p> +<p>Whene’er he heard a tale of woe<br />From client A or client +B,<br />His grief would overcome him so<br />He’d scarce have +strength to take his fee.</p> +<p>It laid him up for many days,<br />When duty led him to distrain,<br />And +serving writs, although it pays,<br />Gave him excruciating pain.</p> +<p>He made out costs, distrained for rent,<br />Foreclosed and sued, +with moistened eye—<br />No bill of costs could represent<br />The +value of such sympathy.</p> +<p>No charges can approximate<br />The worth of sympathy with woe;—<br />Although +I think I ought to state<br />He did his best to make them so.</p> +<p>Of all the many clients who<br />Had mustered round his legal flag,<br />No +single client of the crew<br />Was half so dear as CAPTAIN BAGG.</p> +<p>Now, CAPTAIN BAGG had bowed him to<br />A heavy matrimonial yoke—<br />His +wifey had of faults a few—<br />She never could resist a joke.</p> +<p>Her chaff at first he meekly bore,<br />Till unendurable it grew.<br />“To +stop this persecution sore<br />I will consult my friend CAREW.</p> +<p>“And when CAREW’S advice I’ve got,<br />Divorce +<i>a mensâ</i> I shall try.”<br />(A legal separation—not<br /><i>A +vinculo conjugii</i>.)</p> +<p>“Oh, BAINES CAREW, my woe I’ve kept<br />A secret hitherto, +you know;”—<br />(And BAINES CAREW, ESQUIRE, he wept<br />To +hear that BAGG <i>had</i> any woe.)</p> +<p>“My case, indeed, is passing sad.<br />My wife—whom I +considered true—<br />With brutal conduct drives me mad.”<br />“I +am appalled,” said BAINES CAREW.</p> +<p>“What! sound the matrimonial knell<br />Of worthy people such +as these!<br />Why was I an attorney? Well—<br />Go on to +the <i>saevitia</i>, please.”</p> +<p>“Domestic bliss has proved my bane,—<br />A harder case +you never heard,<br />My wife (in other matters sane)<br />Pretends +that I’m a Dicky bird!</p> +<p>“She makes me sing, ‘Too-whit, too-wee!’<br />And +stand upon a rounded stick,<br />And always introduces me<br />To every +one as ‘Pretty Dick’!”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear,” said weeping BAINES CAREW,<br />“This +is the direst case I know.”<br />“I’m grieved,” +said BAGG, “at paining you—<br />“To COBB and POLTHERTHWAITE +I’ll go—</p> +<p>“To COBB’S cold, calculating ear,<br />My gruesome sorrows +I’ll impart”—<br />“No; stop,” said BAINES, +“I’ll dry my tear,<br />And steel my sympathetic heart.”</p> +<p>“She makes me perch upon a tree,<br />Rewarding me with ‘Sweety—nice!’<br />And +threatens to exhibit me<br />With four or five performing mice.”</p> +<p>“Restrain my tears I wish I could”<br />(Said BAINES), +“I don’t know what to do.”<br />Said CAPTAIN BAGG, +“You’re very good.”<br />“Oh, not at all,” +said BAINES CAREW.</p> +<p>“She makes me fire a gun,” said BAGG;<br />“And, +at a preconcerted word,<br />Climb up a ladder with a flag,<br />Like +any street performing bird.</p> +<p>“She places sugar in my way—<br />In public places calls +me ‘Sweet!’<br />She gives me groundsel every day,<br />And +hard canary-seed to eat.”</p> +<p>“Oh, woe! oh, sad! oh, dire to tell!”<br />(Said BAINES). +“Be good enough to stop.”<br />And senseless on the floor +he fell,<br />With unpremeditated flop!</p> +<p>Said CAPTAIN BAGG, “Well, really I<br />Am grieved to think +it pains you so.<br />I thank you for your sympathy;<br />But, hang +it!—come—I say, you know!”</p> +<p>But BAINES lay flat upon the floor,<br />Convulsed with sympathetic +sob;—<br />The Captain toddled off next door,<br />And gave the +case to MR. COBB.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Thomas Winterbottom Hance</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>In all the towns and cities fair<br />On Merry England’s broad +expanse,<br />No swordsman ever could compare<br />With THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM +HANCE.</p> +<p>The dauntless lad could fairly hew<br />A silken handkerchief in +twain,<br />Divide a leg of mutton too—<br />And this without +unwholesome strain.</p> +<p>On whole half-sheep, with cunning trick,<br />His sabre sometimes +he’d employ—<br />No bar of lead, however thick,<br />Had +terrors for the stalwart boy.</p> +<p>At Dover daily he’d prepare<br />To hew and slash, behind, +before—<br />Which aggravated MONSIEUR PIERRE,<br />Who watched +him from the Calais shore.</p> +<p>It caused good PIERRE to swear and dance,<br />The sight annoyed +and vexed him so;<br />He was the bravest man in France—<br />He +said so, and he ought to know.</p> +<p>“Regardez donc, ce cochon gros—<br />Ce polisson! +Oh, sacré bleu!<br />Son sabre, son plomb, et ses gigots<br />Comme +cela m’ennuye, enfin, mon Dieu!</p> +<p>“Il sait que les foulards de soie<br />Give no retaliating +whack—<br />Les gigots morts n’ont pas de quoi—<br />Le +plomb don’t ever hit you back.”</p> +<p>But every day the headstrong lad<br />Cut lead and mutton more and +more;<br />And every day poor PIERRE, half mad,<br />Shrieked loud defiance +from his shore.</p> +<p>HANCE had a mother, poor and old,<br />A simple, harmless village +dame,<br />Who crowed and clapped as people told<br />Of WINTERBOTTOM’S +rising fame.</p> +<p>She said, “I’ll be upon the spot<br />To see my TOMMY’S +sabre-play;”<br />And so she left her leafy cot,<br />And walked +to Dover in a day.</p> +<p>PIERRE had a doating mother, who<br />Had heard of his defiant rage;<br /><i>His</i> +Ma was nearly ninety-two,<br />And rather dressy for her age.</p> +<p>At HANCE’S doings every morn,<br />With sheer delight <i>his</i> +mother cried;<br />And MONSIEUR PIERRE’S contemptuous scorn<br />Filled +<i>his</i> mamma with proper pride.</p> +<p>But HANCE’S powers began to fail—<br />His constitution +was not strong—<br />And PIERRE, who once was stout and hale,<br />Grew +thin from shouting all day long.</p> +<p>Their mothers saw them pale and wan,<br />Maternal anguish tore each +breast,<br />And so they met to find a plan<br />To set their offsprings’ +minds at rest.</p> +<p>Said MRS. HANCE, “Of course I shrinks<br />From bloodshed, +ma’am, as you’re aware,<br />But still they’d better +meet, I thinks.”<br />“Assurément!” said MADAME +PIERRE.</p> +<p>A sunny spot in sunny France<br />Was hit upon for this affair;<br />The +ground was picked by MRS. HANCE,<br />The stakes were pitched by MADAME +PIERRE.</p> +<p>Said MRS. H., “Your work you see—<br />Go in, my noble +boy, and win.”<br />“En garde, mon fils!” said MADAME +P.<br />“Allons!” “Go on!” “En +garde!” “Begin!”</p> +<p>(The mothers were of decent size,<br />Though not particularly tall;<br />But +in the sketch that meets your eyes<br />I’ve been obliged to draw +them small.)</p> +<p>Loud sneered the doughty man of France,<br />“Ho! ho! +Ho! ho! Ha! ha! Ha! ha!<br />“The French for ‘Pish’” +said THOMAS HANCE.<br />Said PIERRE, “L’Anglais, Monsieur, +pour ‘Bah.’”</p> +<p>Said MRS. H., “Come, one! two! three!—<br />We’re +sittin’ here to see all fair.”<br />“C’est magnifique!” +said MADAME P.,<br />“Mais, parbleu! ce n’est pas la guerre!”</p> +<p>“Je scorn un foe si lache que vous,”<br />Said PIERRE, +the doughty son of France.<br />“I fight not coward foe like you!”<br />Said +our undaunted TOMMY HANCE.</p> +<p>“The French for ‘Pooh!’” our TOMMY cried.<br />“L’Anglais +pour ‘Va!’” the Frenchman crowed.<br />And so, with +undiminished pride,<br />Each went on his respective road.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Reverend Micah Sowls</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The REVEREND MICAH SOWLS,<br />He shouts and yells and howls,<br />He +screams, he mouths, he bumps,<br />He foams, he rants, he thumps.</p> +<p>His armour he has buckled on, to wage<br />The regulation war against +the Stage;<br />And warns his congregation all to shun<br />“The +Presence-Chamber of the Evil One,”</p> +<p>The subject’s sad enough<br />To make him rant and puff,<br />And +fortunately, too,<br />His Bishop’s in a pew.</p> +<p>So REVEREND MICAH claps on extra steam,<br />His eyes are flashing +with superior gleam,<br />He is as energetic as can be,<br />For there +are fatter livings in that see.</p> +<p>The Bishop, when it’s o’er,<br />Goes through the vestry +door,<br />Where MICAH, very red,<br />Is mopping of his head.</p> +<p>“Pardon, my Lord, your SOWLS’ excessive zeal,<br />It +is a theme on which I strongly feel.”<br />(The sermon somebody +had sent him down<br />From London, at a charge of half-a-crown.)</p> +<p>The Bishop bowed his head,<br />And, acquiescing, said,<br />“I’ve +heard your well-meant rage<br />Against the Modern Stage.</p> +<p>“A modern Theatre, as I heard you say,<br />Sows seeds of evil +broadcast—well it may;<br />But let me ask you, my respected son,<br />Pray, +have you ever ventured into one?”</p> +<p>“My Lord,” said MICAH, “no!<br />I never, never +go!<br />What! Go and see a play?<br />My goodness gracious, nay!”</p> +<p>The worthy Bishop said, “My friend, no doubt<br />The Stage +may be the place you make it out;<br />But if, my REVEREND SOWLS, you +never go,<br />I don’t quite understand how you’re to know.”</p> +<p>“Well, really,” MICAH said,<br />“I’ve often +heard and read,<br />But never go—do you?”<br />The Bishop +said, “I do.”</p> +<p>“That proves me wrong,” said MICAH, in a trice:<br />“I +thought it all frivolity and vice.”<br />The Bishop handed him +a printed card;<br />“Go to a theatre where they play our Bard.”</p> +<p>The Bishop took his leave,<br />Rejoicing in his sleeve.<br />The +next ensuing day<br />SOWLS went and heard a play.</p> +<p>He saw a dreary person on the stage,<br />Who mouthed and mugged +in simulated rage,<br />Who growled and spluttered in a mode absurd,<br />And +spoke an English SOWLS had never heard.</p> +<p>For “gaunt” was spoken “garnt,”<br /> And +“haunt” transformed to “harnt,”<br /> And +“wrath “ pronounced as “rath,”<br /> And +“death” was changed to “dath.”</p> +<p>For hours and hours that dismal actor walked,<br />And talked, and +talked, and talked, and talked,<br />Till lethargy upon the parson crept,<br />And +sleepy MICAH SOWLS serenely slept.</p> +<p>He slept away until<br />The farce that closed the bill<br />Had +warned him not to stay,<br />And then he went away.</p> +<p>“I thought <i>my</i> gait ridiculous,” said he—<br />“<i>My</i> +elocution faulty as could be;<br />I thought <i>I</i> mumbled on a matchless +plan—<br />I had not seen our great Tragedian!</p> +<p>“Forgive me, if you can,<br />O great Tragedian!<br />I own +it with a sigh—<br />You’re drearier than I!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>A Discontented Sugar Broker</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A GENTLEMAN of City fame<br />Now claims your kind attention;<br />East +India broking was his game,<br />His name I shall not mention:<br />No +one of finely-pointed sense<br />Would violate a confidence,<br />And +shall <i>I</i> go<br />And do it? No!<br />His name I shall not +mention.</p> +<p>He had a trusty wife and true,<br />And very cosy quarters,<br />A +manager, a boy or two,<br />Six clerks, and seven porters.<br />A broker +must be doing well<br />(As any lunatic can tell)<br />Who can employ<br />An +active boy,<br />Six clerks, and seven porters.</p> +<p>His knocker advertised no dun,<br />No losses made him sulky,<br />He +had one sorrow—only one—<br />He was extremely bulky.<br />A +man must be, I beg to state,<br />Exceptionally fortunate<br />Who owns +his chief<br />And only grief<br />Is—being very bulky.</p> +<p>“This load,” he’d say, “I cannot bear;<br />I’m +nineteen stone or twenty!<br />Henceforward I’ll go in for air<br />And +exercise in plenty.”<br />Most people think that, should it come,<br />They +can reduce a bulging tum<br />To measures fair<br />By taking air<br />And +exercise in plenty.</p> +<p>In every weather, every day,<br />Dry, muddy, wet, or gritty,<br />He +took to dancing all the way<br />From Brompton to the City.<br />You +do not often get the chance<br />Of seeing sugar brokers dance<br />From +their abode<br />In Fulham Road<br />Through Brompton to the City.</p> +<p>He braved the gay and guileless laugh<br />Of children with their +nusses,<br />The loud uneducated chaff<br />Of clerks on omnibuses.<br />Against +all minor things that rack<br />A nicely-balanced mind, I’ll back<br />The +noisy chaff<br />And ill-bred laugh<br />Of clerks on omnibuses.</p> +<p>His friends, who heard his money chink,<br />And saw the house he +rented,<br />And knew his wife, could never think<br />What made him +discontented.<br />It never entered their pure minds<br />That fads +are of eccentric kinds,<br />Nor would they own<br />That fat alone<br />Could +make one discontented.</p> +<p>“Your riches know no kind of pause,<br />Your trade is fast +advancing;<br />You dance—but not for joy, because<br />You weep +as you are dancing.<br />To dance implies that man is glad,<br />To +weep implies that man is sad;<br />But here are you<br />Who do the +two—<br />You weep as you are dancing!”</p> +<p>His mania soon got noised about<br />And into all the papers;<br />His +size increased beyond a doubt<br />For all his reckless capers:<br />It +may seem singular to you,<br />But all his friends admit it true—<br />The +more he found<br />His figure round,<br />The more he cut his capers.</p> +<p>His bulk increased—no matter that—<br />He tried the +more to toss it—<br />He never spoke of it as “fat,”<br />But +“adipose deposit.”<br />Upon my word, it seems to me<br />Unpardonable +vanity<br />(And worse than that)<br />To call your fat<br />An “adipose +deposit.”</p> +<p>At length his brawny knees gave way,<br />And on the carpet sinking,<br />Upon +his shapeless back he lay<br />And kicked away like winking.<br />Instead +of seeing in his state<br />The finger of unswerving Fate,<br />He laboured +still<br />To work his will,<br />And kicked away like winking.</p> +<p>His friends, disgusted with him now,<br />Away in silence wended—<br />I +hardly like to tell you how<br />This dreadful story ended.<br />The +shocking sequel to impart,<br />I must employ the limner’s art—<br />If +you would know,<br />This sketch will show<br />How his exertions ended.</p> +<p>MORAL.</p> +<p>I hate to preach—I hate to prate—<br />- I’m no +fanatic croaker,<br />But learn contentment from the fate<br />Of this +East India broker.<br />He’d everything a man of taste<br />Could +ever want, except a waist;<br />And discontent<br />His size anent,<br />And +bootless perseverance blind,<br />Completely wrecked the peace of mind<br />Of +this East India broker.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Pantomime “Super” To His Mask</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Vast empty shell!<br />Impertinent, preposterous abortion!<br />With +vacant stare,<br />And ragged hair,<br />And every feature out of all +proportion!<br />Embodiment of echoing inanity!<br />Excellent type +of simpering insanity!<br />Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity!<br />I +ring thy knell!</p> +<p>To-night thou diest,<br />Beast that destroy’st my heaven-born +identity!<br />Nine weeks of nights,<br />Before the lights,<br />Swamped +in thine own preposterous nonentity,<br />I’ve been ill-treated, +cursed, and thrashed diurnally,<br />Credited for the smile you wear +externally—<br />I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,<br />As +there thou liest!</p> +<p>I’ve been thy brain:<br /><i>I’ve</i> been the brain +that lit thy dull concavity!<br />The human race<br />Invest <i>my</i> +face<br />With thine expression of unchecked depravity,<br />Invested +with a ghastly reciprocity,<br /><i>I’ve</i> been responsible +for thy monstrosity,<br />I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity—<br />But +not again!</p> +<p>’T is time to toll<br />Thy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:<br />A +nine weeks’ run,<br />And thou hast done<br />All thou canst do +to make thyself inimical.<br />Adieu, embodiment of all inanity!<br />Excellent +type of simpering insanity!<br />Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity!<br />Freed +is thy soul!</p> +<p>(<i>The Mask respondeth</i>.)</p> +<p>Oh! master mine,<br />Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using +me.<br />Art thou aware<br />Of nothing there<br />Which might abuse +thee, as thou art abusing me?<br />A brain that mourns <i>thine</i> +unredeemed rascality?<br />A soul that weeps at <i>thy</i> threadbare +morality?<br />Both grieving that <i>their</i> individuality<br />Is +merged in thine?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Force Of Argument</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Lord B. was a nobleman bold<br />Who came of illustrious stocks,<br />He +was thirty or forty years old,<br />And several feet in his socks.</p> +<p>To Turniptopville-by-the-Sea<br />This elegant nobleman went,<br />For +that was a borough that he<br />Was anxious to rep-per-re-sent.</p> +<p>At local assemblies he danced<br />Until he felt thoroughly ill;<br />He +waltzed, and he galoped, and lanced,<br />And threaded the mazy quadrille.</p> +<p>The maidens of Turniptopville<br />Were simple—ingenuous—pure—<br />And +they all worked away with a will<br />The nobleman’s heart to +secure.</p> +<p>Two maidens all others beyond<br />Endeavoured his cares to dispel—<br />The +one was the lively ANN POND,<br />The other sad MARY MORELL.</p> +<p>ANN POND had determined to try<br />And carry the Earl with a rush;<br />Her +principal feature was eye,<br />Her greatest accomplishment—gush.</p> +<p>And MARY chose this for her play:<br />Whenever he looked in her +eye<br />She’d blush and turn quickly away,<br />And flitter, +and flutter, and sigh.</p> +<p>It was noticed he constantly sighed<br />As she worked out the scheme +she had planned,<br />A fact he endeavoured to hide<br />With his aristocratical +hand.</p> +<p>Old POND was a farmer, they say,<br />And so was old TOMMY MORELL.<br />In +a humble and pottering way<br />They were doing exceedingly well.</p> +<p>They both of them carried by vote<br />The Earl was a dangerous man;<br />So +nervously clearing his throat,<br />One morning old TOMMY began:</p> +<p>“My darter’s no pratty young doll—<br />I’m +a plain-spoken Zommerzet man—<br />Now what do ’ee mean +by my POLL,<br />And what do ’ee mean by his ANN?</p> +<p>Said B., “I will give you my bond<br />I mean them uncommonly +well,<br />Believe me, my excellent POND,<br />And credit me, worthy +MORELL.</p> +<p>“It’s quite indisputable, for<br />I’ll prove it +with singular ease,—<br />You shall have it in ‘Barbara’ +or<br />‘Celarent’—whichever you please.</p> +<p>‘You see, when an anchorite bows<br />To the yoke of intentional +sin,<br />If the state of the country allows,<br />Homogeny always steps +in—</p> +<p>“It’s a highly aesthetical bond,<br />As any mere ploughboy +can tell—”<br />“Of course,” replied puzzled +old POND.<br />“I see,” said old TOMMY MORELL.</p> +<p>“Very good, then,” continued the lord;<br />“When +it’s fooled to the top of its bent,<br />With a sweep of a Damocles +sword<br />The web of intention is rent.</p> +<p>“That’s patent to all of us here,<br />As any mere schoolboy +can tell.”<br />POND answered, “Of course it’s quite +clear”;<br />And so did that humbug MORELL.</p> +<p>“Its tone’s esoteric in force—<br />I trust that +I make myself clear?”<br />MORELL only answered, “Of course,”<br />While +POND slowly muttered, “Hear, hear.”</p> +<p>“Volition—celestial prize,<br />Pellucid as porphyry +cell—<br />Is based on a principle wise.”<br />“Quite +so,” exclaimed POND and MORELL.</p> +<p>“From what I have said you will see<br />That I couldn’t +wed either—in fine,<br />By Nature’s unchanging decree<br /><i>Your</i> +daughters could never be <i>mine.</i></p> +<p>“Go home to your pigs and your ricks,<br />My hands of the +matter I’ve rinsed.”<br />So they take up their hats and +their sticks, .<br />And <i>exeunt ambo</i>, convinced.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Ghost, The Gallant, The Gael, And The Goblin</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>O’er unreclaimed suburban clays<br />Some years ago were hobblin’<br />An +elderly ghost of easy ways,<br />And an influential goblin.<br />The +ghost was a sombre spectral shape,<br />A fine old five-act fogy,<br />The +goblin imp, a lithe young ape,<br />A fine low-comedy bogy.</p> +<p>And as they exercised their joints,<br />Promoting quick digestion,<br />They +talked on several curious points,<br />And raised this delicate question:<br />“Which +of us two is Number One—<br />The ghostie, or the goblin?”<br />And +o’er the point they raised in fun<br />They fairly fell a-squabblin’.</p> +<p>They’d barely speak, and each, in fine,<br />Grew more and +more reflective:<br />Each thought his own particular line<br />By chalks +the more effective.<br />At length they settled some one should<br />By +each of them be haunted,<br />And so arrange that either could<br />Exert +his prowess vaunted.</p> +<p>“The Quaint against the Statuesque”—<br />By competition +lawful—<br />The goblin backed the Quaint Grotesque,<br />The +ghost the Grandly Awful.<br />“Now,” said the goblin, “here’s +my plan—<br />In attitude commanding,<br />I see a stalwart Englishman<br />By +yonder tailor’s standing.</p> +<p>“The very fittest man on earth<br />My influence to try on—<br />Of +gentle, p’r’aps of noble birth,<br />And dauntless as a +lion!<br />Now wrap yourself within your shroud—<br />Remain in +easy hearing—<br />Observe—you’ll hear him scream +aloud<br />When I begin appearing!</p> +<p>The imp with yell unearthly—wild—<br />Threw off his +dark enclosure:<br />His dauntless victim looked and smiled<br />With +singular composure.<br />For hours he tried to daunt the youth,<br />For +days, indeed, but vainly—<br />The stripling smiled!—to +tell the truth,<br />The stripling smiled inanely.</p> +<p>For weeks the goblin weird and wild,<br />That noble stripling haunted;<br />For +weeks the stripling stood and smiled,<br />Unmoved and all undaunted.<br />The +sombre ghost exclaimed, “Your plan<br />Has failed you, goblin, +plainly:<br />Now watch yon hardy Hieland man,<br />So stalwart and +ungainly.</p> +<p>“These are the men who chase the roe,<br />Whose footsteps +never falter,<br />Who bring with them, where’er they go,<br />A +smack of old SIR WALTER.<br />Of such as he, the men sublime<br />Who +lead their troops victorious,<br />Whose deeds go down to after-time,<br />Enshrined +in annals glorious!</p> +<p>“Of such as he the bard has said<br />‘Hech thrawfu’ +raltie rorkie!<br />Wi’ thecht ta’ croonie clapperhead<br />And +fash’ wi’ unco pawkie!’<br />He’ll faint away +when I appear,<br />Upon his native heather;<br />Or p’r’aps +he’ll only scream with fear,<br />Or p’r’aps the two +together.”</p> +<p>The spectre showed himself, alone,<br />To do his ghostly battling,<br />With +curdling groan and dismal moan,<br />And lots of chains a-rattling!<br />But +no—the chiel’s stout Gaelic stuff<br />Withstood all ghostly +harrying;<br />His fingers closed upon the snuff<br />Which upwards +he was carrying.</p> +<p>For days that ghost declined to stir,<br />A foggy shapeless giant—<br />For +weeks that splendid officer<br />Stared back again defiant.<br />Just +as the Englishman returned<br />The goblin’s vulgar staring,<br />Just +so the Scotchman boldly spurned<br />The ghost’s unmannered scaring.</p> +<p>For several years the ghostly twain<br />These Britons bold have +haunted,<br />But all their efforts are in vain—<br />Their victims +stand undaunted.<br />This very day the imp, and ghost,<br />Whose powers +the imp derided,<br />Stand each at his allotted post—<br />The +bet is undecided.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Phantom Curate. A Fable</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A BISHOP once—I will not name his see—<br />Annoyed his +clergy in the mode conventional;<br />From pulpit shackles never set +them free,<br />And found a sin where sin was unintentional.<br />All +pleasures ended in abuse auricular—<br />The Bishop was so terribly +particular.</p> +<p>Though, on the whole, a wise and upright man,<br />He sought to make +of human pleasures clearances;<br />And form his priests on that much-lauded +plan<br />Which pays undue attention to appearances.<br />He couldn’t +do good deeds without a psalm in ’em,<br />Although, in truth, +he bore away the palm in ’em.</p> +<p>Enraged to find a deacon at a dance,<br />Or catch a curate at some +mild frivolity,<br />He sought by open censure to enhance<br />Their +dread of joining harmless social jollity.<br />Yet he enjoyed (a fact +of notoriety)<br />The ordinary pleasures of society.</p> +<p>One evening, sitting at a pantomime<br />(Forbidden treat to those +who stood in fear of him),<br />Roaring at jokes, <i>sans</i> metre, +sense, or rhyme,<br />He turned, and saw immediately in rear of him,<br />His +peace of mind upsetting, and annoying it,<br />A curate, also heartily +enjoying it.</p> +<p>Again, ’t was Christmas Eve, and to enhance<br />His children’s +pleasure in their harmless rollicking,<br />He, like a good old fellow, +stood to dance;<br />When something checked the current of his frolicking:<br />That +curate, with a maid he treated lover-ly,<br />Stood up and figured with +him in the “Coverley!”</p> +<p>Once, yielding to an universal choice<br />(The company’s demand +was an emphatic one,<br />For the old Bishop had a glorious voice),<br />In +a quartet he joined—an operatic one.<br />Harmless enough, though +ne’er a word of grace in it,<br />When, lo! that curate came and +took the bass in it!</p> +<p>One day, when passing through a quiet street,<br />He stopped awhile +and joined a Punch’s gathering;<br />And chuckled more than solemn +folk think meet,<br />To see that gentleman his Judy lathering;<br />And +heard, as Punch was being treated penalty,<br />That phantom curate +laughing all hyaenally.</p> +<p>Now at a picnic, ’mid fair golden curls,<br />Bright eyes, +straw hats, <i>bottines</i> that fit amazingly,<br />A croquêt-bout +is planned by all the girls;<br />And he, consenting, speaks of croquêt +praisingly;<br />But suddenly declines to play at all in it—<br />The +curate fiend has come to take a ball in it!</p> +<p>Next, when at quiet sea-side village, freed<br />From cares episcopal +and ties monarchical,<br />He grows his beard, and smokes his fragrant +weed,<br />In manner anything but hierarchical—<br />He sees—and +fixes an unearthly stare on it—<br />That curate’s face, +with half a yard of hair on it!</p> +<p>At length he gave a charge, and spake this word:<br />“Vicars, +your curates to enjoyment urge ye may;<br />To check their harmless +pleasuring’s absurd;<br />What laymen do without reproach, my +clergy may.”<br />He spake, and lo! at this concluding word of +him,<br />The curate vanished—no one since has heard of him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Sensation Captain</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>No nobler captain ever trod<br />Than CAPTAIN PARKLEBURY TODD,<br />So +good—so wise—so brave, he!<br />But still, as all his friends +would own,<br />He had one folly—one alone—<br />This Captain +in the Navy.</p> +<p>I do not think I ever knew<br />A man so wholly given to<br />Creating +a sensation,<br />Or p’raps I should in justice say—<br />To +what in an Adelphi play<br />Is known as “situation.”</p> +<p>He passed his time designing traps<br />To flurry unsuspicious chaps—<br />The +taste was his innately;<br />He couldn’t walk into a room<br />Without +ejaculating “Boom!”<br />Which startled ladies greatly.</p> +<p>He’d wear a mask and muffling cloak,<br />Not, you will understand, +in joke,<br />As some assume disguises;<br />He did it, actuated by<br />A +simple love of mystery<br />And fondness for surprises.</p> +<p>I need not say he loved a maid—<br />His eloquence threw into +shade<br />All others who adored her.<br />The maid, though pleased +at first, I know,<br />Found, after several years or so,<br />Her startling +lover bored her.</p> +<p>So, when his orders came to sail,<br />She did not faint or scream +or wail,<br />Or with her tears anoint him:<br />She shook his hand, +and said “Good-bye,”<br />With laughter dancing in her eye—<br />Which +seemed to disappoint him.</p> +<p>But ere he went aboard his boat,<br />He placed around her little +throat<br />A ribbon, blue and yellow,<br />On which he hung a double-tooth—<br />A +simple token this, in sooth—<br />’Twas all he had, poor +fellow!</p> +<p>“I often wonder,” he would say,<br />When very, very +far away,<br />“If ANGELINA wears it?<br />A plan has entered +in my head:<br />I will pretend that I am dead,<br />And see how ANGY +bears it.”</p> +<p>The news he made a messmate tell.<br />His ANGELINA bore it well,<br />No +sign gave she of crazing;<br />But, steady as the Inchcape Rock,<br />His +ANGELINA stood the shock<br />With fortitude amazing.</p> +<p>She said, “Some one I must elect<br />Poor ANGELINA to protect<br />From +all who wish to harm her.<br />Since worthy CAPTAIN TODD is dead,<br />I +rather feel inclined to wed<br />A comfortable farmer.”</p> +<p>A comfortable farmer came<br />(BASSANIO TYLER was his name),<br />Who +had no end of treasure.<br />He said, “My noble gal, be mine!”<br />The +noble gal did not decline,<br />But simply said, “With pleasure.”</p> +<p>When this was told to CAPTAIN TODD,<br />At first he thought it rather +odd,<br />And felt some perturbation;<br />But very long he did not +grieve,<br />He thought he could a way perceive<br />To <i>such</i> +a situation!</p> +<p>“I’ll not reveal myself,” said he,<br />“Till +they are both in the Ecclesiastical arena;<br />Then suddenly I will +appear,<br />And paralysing them with fear,<br />Demand my ANGELINA!”</p> +<p>At length arrived the wedding day;<br />Accoutred in the usual way<br />Appeared +the bridal body;<br />The worthy clergyman began,<br />When in the gallant +Captain ran<br />And cried, “Behold your TODDY!”</p> +<p>The bridegroom, p’raps, was terrified,<br />And also possibly +the bride—<br />The bridesmaids <i>were</i> affrighted;<br />But +ANGELINA, noble soul,<br />Contrived her feelings to control,<br />And +really seemed delighted.</p> +<p>“My bride!” said gallant CAPTAIN TODD,<br />“She’s +mine, uninteresting clod!<br />My own, my darling charmer!”<br />“Oh +dear,” said she, “you’re just too late—<br />I’m +married to, I beg to state,<br />This comfortable farmer!”</p> +<p>“Indeed,” the farmer said, “she’s mine:<br />You’ve +been and cut it far too fine!”<br />“I see,” said +TODD, “I’m beaten.”<br />And so he went to sea once +more,<br />“Sensation” he for aye forswore,<br />And married +on her native shore<br />A lady whom he’d met before—<br />A +lovely Otaheitan.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Tempora Mutantur</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Letters, letters, letters, letters!<br />Some that please and some +that bore,<br />Some that threaten prison fetters<br />(Metaphorically, +fetters<br />Such as bind insolvent debtors)—<br />Invitations +by the score.</p> +<p>One from COGSON, WILES, and RAILER,<br />My attorneys, off the Strand;<br />One +from COPPERBLOCK, my tailor—<br />My unreasonable tailor—<br />One +in FLAGG’S disgusting hand.</p> +<p>One from EPHRAIM and MOSES,<br />Wanting coin without a doubt,<br />I +should like to pull their noses—<br />Their uncompromising noses;<br />One +from ALICE with the roses—<br />Ah, I know what that’s about +!</p> +<p>Time was when I waited, waited<br />For the missives that she wrote,<br />Humble +postmen execrated—<br />Loudly, deeply execrated—<br />When +I heard I wasn’t fated<br />To be gladdened with a note!</p> +<p>Time was when I’d not have bartered<br />Of her little pen +a dip<br />For a peerage duly gartered—<br />For a peerage starred +and gartered—<br />With a palace-office chartered,<br />Or a Secretaryship.</p> +<p>But the time for that is over,<br />And I wish we’d never met.<br />I’m +afraid I’ve proved a rover—<br />I’m afraid a heartless +rover—<br />Quarters in a place like Dover<br />Tend to make a +man forget.</p> +<p>Bills for carriages and horses,<br />Bills for wine and light cigar,<br />Matters +that concern the Forces—<br />News that may affect the Forces—<br />News +affecting my resources,<br />Much more interesting are!</p> +<p>And the tiny little paper,<br />With the words that seem to run<br />From +her little fingers taper<br />(They are very small and taper),<br />By +the tailor and the draper<br />Are in interest outdone.</p> +<p>And unopened it’s remaining!<br />I can read her gentle hope—<br />Her +entreaties, uncomplaining<br />(She was always uncomplaining),<br />Her +devotion never waning—<br />Through the little envelope!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>At A Pantomime. By A Bilious One</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>An Actor sits in doubtful gloom,<br />His stock-in-trade unfurled,<br />In +a damp funereal dressing-room<br />In the Theatre Royal, World.</p> +<p>He comes to town at Christmas-time,<br />And braves its icy breath,<br />To +play in that favourite pantomime,<br /><i>Harlequin Life and Death.</i></p> +<p>A hoary flowing wig his weird<br />Unearthly cranium caps,<br />He +hangs a long benevolent beard<br />On a pair of empty chaps.</p> +<p>To smooth his ghastly features down<br />The actor’s art he +cribs,—<br />A long and a flowing padded gown.<br />Bedecks his +rattling ribs.</p> +<p>He cries, “Go on—begin, begin!<br />Turn on the light +of lime—<br />I’m dressed for jolly Old Christmas, in<br />A +favourite pantomime!”</p> +<p>The curtain’s up—the stage all black—<br />Time +and the year nigh sped—<br />Time as an advertising quack—<br />The +Old Year nearly dead.</p> +<p>The wand of Time is waved, and lo!<br />Revealed Old Christmas stands,<br />And +little children chuckle and crow,<br />And laugh and clap their hands.</p> +<p>The cruel old scoundrel brightens up<br />At the death of the Olden +Year,<br />And he waves a gorgeous golden cup,<br />And bids the world +good cheer.</p> +<p>The little ones hail the festive King,—<br />No thought can +make them sad.<br />Their laughter comes with a sounding ring,<br />They +clap and crow like mad!</p> +<p>They only see in the humbug old<br />A holiday every year,<br />And +handsome gifts, and joys untold,<br />And unaccustomed cheer.</p> +<p>The old ones, palsied, blear, and hoar,<br />Their breasts in anguish +beat—<br />They’ve seen him seventy times before,<br />How +well they know the cheat!</p> +<p>They’ve seen that ghastly pantomime,<br />They’ve felt +its blighting breath,<br />They know that rollicking Christmas-time<br />Meant +Cold and Want and Death,—</p> +<p>Starvation—Poor Law Union fare—<br />And deadly cramps +and chills,<br />And illness—illness everywhere,<br />And crime, +and Christmas bills.</p> +<p>They know Old Christmas well, I ween,<br />Those men of ripened age;<br />They’ve +often, often, often seen<br />That Actor off the stage!</p> +<p>They see in his gay rotundity<br />A clumsy stuffed-out dress—<br />They +see in the cup he waves on high<br />A tinselled emptiness.</p> +<p>Those aged men so lean and wan,<br />They’ve seen it all before,<br />They +know they’ll see the charlatan<br />But twice or three times more.</p> +<p>And so they bear with dance and song,<br />And crimson foil and green,<br />They +wearily sit, and grimly long<br />For the Transformation Scene.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>King Borria Bungalee Boo</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO<br />Was a man-eating African swell;<br />His +sigh was a hullaballoo,<br />His whisper a horrible yell—<br />A +horrible, horrible yell!</p> +<p>Four subjects, and all of them male,<br />To BORRIA doubled the knee,<br />They +were once on a far larger scale,<br />But he’d eaten the balance, +you see<br />(“Scale” and “balance” is punning, +you see).</p> +<p>There was haughty PISH-TUSH-POOH-BAH,<br />There was lumbering DOODLE-DUM-DEY,<br />Despairing +ALACK-A-DEY-AH,<br />And good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH—<br />Exemplary +TOOTLE-TUM-TEH.</p> +<p>One day there was grief in the crew,<br />For they hadn’t a +morsel of meat,<br />And BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO<br />Was dying for something +to eat—<br />“Come, provide me with something to eat!</p> +<p>“ALACK-A-DEY, famished I feel;<br />Oh, good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH,<br />Where +on earth shall I look for a meal?<br />For I haven’t no dinner +to-day!—<br />Not a morsel of dinner to-day!</p> +<p>“Dear TOOTLE-TUM, what shall we do?<br />Come, get us a meal, +or, in truth,<br />If you don’t, we shall have to eat you,<br />Oh, +adorable friend of our youth!<br />Thou beloved little friend of our +youth!”</p> +<p>And he answered, “Oh, BUNGALEE BOO,<br />For a moment I hope +you will wait,—<br />TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO<br />Is the +Queen of a neighbouring state—<br />A remarkably neighbouring +state.</p> +<p>“TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO,<br />She would pickle deliciously +cold—<br />And her four pretty Amazons, too,<br />Are enticing, +and not very old—<br />Twenty-seven is not very old.</p> +<p>“There is neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH,<br />There is rollicking +TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH,<br />There is jocular WAGGETY-WEH,<br />There is musical +DOH-REH-MI-FAH—<br />There’s the nightingale DOH-REH-MI-FAH!”</p> +<p>So the forces of BUNGALEE BOO<br />Marched forth in a terrible row,<br />And +the ladies who fought for QUEEN LOO<br />Prepared to encounter the foe—<br />This +dreadful, insatiate foe!</p> +<p>But they sharpened no weapons at all,<br />And they poisoned no arrows—not +they!<br />They made ready to conquer or fall<br />In a totally different +way—<br />An entirely different way.</p> +<p>With a crimson and pearly-white dye<br />They endeavoured to make +themselves fair,<br />With black they encircled each eye,<br />And with +yellow they painted their hair<br />(It was wool, but they thought it +was hair).</p> +<p>And the forces they met in the field:-<br />And the men of KING BORRIA +said,<br />“Amazonians, immediately yield!”<br />And their +arrows they drew to the head—<br />Yes, drew them right up to +the head.</p> +<p>But jocular WAGGETY-WEH<br />Ogled DOODLE-DUM-DEY (which was wrong),<br />And +neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH<br />Said, “TOOTLE-TUM, you go along!<br />You +naughty old dear, go along!”</p> +<p>And rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH<br />Tapped ALACK-A-DEY-AH with her +fan;<br />And musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH<br />Said, “PISH, go away, +you bad man!<br />Go away, you delightful young man!”</p> +<p>And the Amazons simpered and sighed,<br />And they ogled, and giggled, +and flushed,<br />And they opened their pretty eyes wide,<br />And they +chuckled, and flirted, and blushed<br />(At least, if they could, they’d +have blushed).</p> +<p>But haughty PISH-TUSH-POOH-BAH<br />Said, “ALACK-A-DEY, what +does this mean?”<br />And despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH<br />Said, +“They think us uncommonly green!<br />Ha! ha! most uncommonly +green!”</p> +<p>Even blundering DOODLE-DUM-DEY<br />Was insensible quite to their +leers,<br />And said good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH,<br />“It’s +your blood we desire, pretty dears—<br />We have come for our +dinners, my dears!”</p> +<p>And the Queen of the Amazons fell<br />To BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO,—<br />In +a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,<br />TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO—<br />The +pretty QUEEN TOL-THE-ROL-LOO.</p> +<p>And neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH<br />Was eaten by PISH-POOH-BAH,<br />And +light-hearted WAGGETY-WEH<br />By dismal ALACK-A-DEY-AH—<br />Despairing +ALACK-A-DEY-AH.</p> +<p>And rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH<br />Was eaten by DOODLE-DUM-DEY,<br />And +musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH<br />By good little TOOTLE-DUM-TEH—<br />Exemplary +TOOTLE-TUM-TEH!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Periwinkle Girl</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I’ve often thought that headstrong youths<br />Of decent education,<br />Determine +all-important truths,<br />With strange precipitation.</p> +<p>The ever-ready victims they,<br />Of logical illusions,<br />And +in a self-assertive way<br />They jump at strange conclusions.</p> +<p>Now take my case: Ere sorrow could<br />My ample forehead wrinkle,<br />I +had determined that I should<br />Not care to be a winkle.</p> +<p>“A winkle,” I would oft advance<br />With readiness provoking,<br />“Can +seldom flirt, and never dance,<br />Or soothe his mind by smoking.”</p> +<p>In short, I spurned the shelly joy,<br />And spoke with strange decision—<br />Men +pointed to me as a boy<br />Who held them in derision.</p> +<p>But I was young—too young, by far—<br />Or I had been +more wary,<br />I knew not then that winkles are<br />The stock-in-trade +of MARY.</p> +<p>I had not watched her sunlight blithe<br />As o’er their shells +it dances—<br />I’ve seen those winkles almost writhe<br />Beneath +her beaming glances.</p> +<p>Of slighting all the winkly brood<br />I surely had been chary,<br />If +I had known they formed the food<br />And stock-in-trade of MARY.</p> +<p>Both high and low and great and small<br />Fell prostrate at her +tootsies,<br />They all were noblemen, and all<br />Had balances at +COUTTS’S.</p> +<p>Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,<br />DUKE BAILEY and DUKE HUMPHY,<br />Who +ate her winkles till they felt<br />Exceedingly uncomfy.</p> +<p>DUKE BAILEY greatest wealth computes,<br />And sticks, they say, +at no-thing,<br />He wears a pair of golden boots<br />And silver underclothing.</p> +<p>DUKE HUMPHY, as I understand,<br />Though mentally acuter,<br />His +boots are only silver, and<br />His underclothing pewter.</p> +<p>A third adorer had the girl,<br />A man of lowly station—<br />A +miserable grov’ling Earl<br />Besought her approbation.</p> +<p>This humble cad she did refuse<br />With much contempt and loathing,<br />He +wore a pair of leather shoes<br />And cambric underclothing!</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” she cried. “Upon my word!<br />Well, +really—come, I never!<br />Oh, go along, it’s too absurd!<br />My +goodness! Did you ever?</p> +<p>“Two Dukes would Mary make a bride,<br />And from her foes +defend her”—<br />“Well, not exactly that,” +they cried,<br />“We offer guilty splendour.</p> +<p>“We do not offer marriage rite,<br />So please dismiss the +notion!”<br />“Oh dear,” said she, “that alters +quite<br />The state of my emotion.”</p> +<p>The Earl he up and says, says he,<br />“Dismiss them to their +orgies,<br />For I am game to marry thee<br />Quite reg’lar at +St. George’s.”</p> +<p>(He’d had, it happily befell,<br />A decent education,<br />His +views would have befitted well<br />A far superior station.)</p> +<p>His sterling worth had worked a cure,<br />She never heard him grumble;<br />She +saw his soul was good and pure,<br />Although his rank was humble.</p> +<p>Her views of earldoms and their lot,<br />All underwent expansion—<br />Come, +Virtue in an earldom’s cot!<br />Go, Vice in ducal mansion!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Thomson Green And Harriet Hale</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>(To be sung to the Air of “An ’Orrible Tale.”)</p> +<p>Oh list to this incredible tale<br />Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET +HALE;<br />Its truth in one remark you’ll sum—<br />“Twaddle +twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!”</p> +<p>Oh, THOMSON GREEN was an auctioneer,<br />And made three hundred +pounds a year;<br />And HARRIET HALE, most strange to say,<br />Gave +pianoforte lessons at a sovereign a day.</p> +<p>Oh, THOMSON GREEN, I may remark,<br />Met HARRIET HALE in Regent’s +Park,<br />Where he, in a casual kind of way,<br />Spoke of the extraordinary +beauty of the day.</p> +<p>They met again, and strange, though true,<br />He courted her for +a month or two,<br />Then to her pa he said, says he,<br />“Old +man, I love your daughter and your daughter worships me!”</p> +<p>Their names were regularly banned,<br />The wedding day was settled, +and<br />I’ve ascertained by dint of search<br />They were married +on the quiet at St. Mary Abbot’s Church.</p> +<p>Oh, list to this incredible tale<br />Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET +HALE,<br />Its truth in one remark you’ll sum—<br />“Twaddle +twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!”</p> +<p>That very self-same afternoon<br />They started on their honeymoon,<br />And +(oh, astonishment!) took flight<br />To a pretty little cottage close +to Shanklin, Isle of Wight.</p> +<p>But now—you’ll doubt my word, I know—<br />In a +month they both returned, and lo!<br />Astounding fact! this happy pair<br />Took +a gentlemanly residence in Canonbury Square!</p> +<p>They led a weird and reckless life,<br />They dined each day, this +man and wife<br />(Pray disbelieve it, if you please),<br />On a joint +of meat, a pudding, and a little bit of cheese.</p> +<p>In time came those maternal joys<br />Which take the form of girls +or boys,<br />And strange to say of each they’d one—<br />A +tiddy-iddy daughter, and a tiddy-iddy son!</p> +<p>Oh, list to this incredible tale<br />Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET +HALE,<br />Its truth in one remark you’ll sum—<br />“Twaddle +twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!”</p> +<p>My name for truth is gone, I fear,<br />But, monstrous as it may +appear,<br />They let their drawing-room one day<br />To an eligible +person in the cotton-broking way.</p> +<p>Whenever THOMSON GREEN fell sick<br />His wife called in a doctor, +quick,<br />From whom some words like these would come—<br /><i>Fiat +mist. sumendum haustus</i>, in a <i>cochleyareum.</i></p> +<p>For thirty years this curious pair<br />Hung out in Canonbury Square,<br />And +somehow, wonderful to say,<br />They loved each other dearly in a quiet +sort of way.</p> +<p>Well, THOMSON GREEN fell ill and died;<br />For just a year his widow +cried,<br />And then her heart she gave away<br />To the eligible lodger +in the cotton-broking way.</p> +<p>Oh, list to this incredible tale<br />Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET +HALE,<br />Its truth in one remark you’ll sum—<br />“Twaddle +twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Bob Polter</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>BOB POLTER was a navvy, and<br />His hands were coarse, and dirty +too,<br />His homely face was rough and tanned,<br />His time of life +was thirty-two.</p> +<p>He lived among a working clan<br />(A wife he hadn’t got at +all),<br />A decent, steady, sober man—<br />No saint, however—not +at all.</p> +<p>He smoked, but in a modest way,<br />Because he thought he needed +it;<br />He drank a pot of beer a day,<br />And sometimes he exceeded +it.</p> +<p>At times he’d pass with other men<br />A loud convivial night +or two,<br />With, very likely, now and then,<br />On Saturdays, a fight +or two.</p> +<p>But still he was a sober soul,<br />A labour-never-shirking man,<br />Who +paid his way—upon the whole<br />A decent English working man.</p> +<p>One day, when at the Nelson’s Head<br />(For which he may be +blamed of you),<br />A holy man appeared, and said,<br />“Oh, +ROBERT, I’m ashamed of you.”</p> +<p>He laid his hand on ROBERT’S beer<br />Before he could drink +up any,<br />And on the floor, with sigh and tear,<br />He poured the +pot of “thruppenny.”</p> +<p>“Oh, ROBERT, at this very bar<br />A truth you’ll be +discovering,<br />A good and evil genius are<br />Around your noddle +hovering.</p> +<p>“They both are here to bid you shun<br />The other one’s +society,<br />For Total Abstinence is one,<br />The other, Inebriety.”</p> +<p>He waved his hand—a vapour came—<br />A wizard POLTER +reckoned him;<br />A bogy rose and called his name,<br />And with his +finger beckoned him.</p> +<p>The monster’s salient points to sum,—<br />His heavy +breath was portery:<br />His glowing nose suggested rum:<br />His eyes +were gin-and-<i>wor</i>tery.</p> +<p>His dress was torn—for dregs of ale<br />And slops of gin had +rusted it;<br />His pimpled face was wan and pale,<br />Where filth +had not encrusted it.</p> +<p>“Come, POLTER,” said the fiend, “begin,<br />And +keep the bowl a-flowing on—<br />A working man needs pints of +gin<br />To keep his clockwork going on.”</p> +<p>BOB shuddered: “Ah, you’ve made a miss<br />If you take +me for one of you:<br />You filthy beast, get out of this—<br />BOB +POLTER don’t wan’t none of you.”</p> +<p>The demon gave a drunken shriek,<br />And crept away in stealthiness,<br />And +lo! instead, a person sleek,<br />Who seemed to burst with healthiness.</p> +<p>“In me, as your adviser hints,<br />Of Abstinence you’ve +got a type—<br />Of MR. TWEEDIE’S pretty prints<br />I am +the happy prototype.</p> +<p>“If you abjure the social toast,<br />And pipes, and such frivolities,<br />You +possibly some day may boast<br />My prepossessing qualities!”</p> +<p>BOB rubbed his eyes, and made ’em blink:<br />“You almost +make me tremble, you!<br />If I abjure fermented drink,<br />Shall I, +indeed, resemble you?</p> +<p>“And will my whiskers curl so tight?<br />My cheeks grow smug +and muttony?<br />My face become so red and white?<br />My coat so blue +and buttony?</p> +<p>“Will trousers, such as yours, array<br />Extremities inferior?<br />Will +chubbiness assert its sway<br />All over my exterior?</p> +<p>“In this, my unenlightened state,<br />To work in heavy boots +I comes;<br />Will pumps henceforward decorate<br />My tiddle toddle +tootsicums?</p> +<p>“And shall I get so plump and fresh,<br />And look no longer +seedily?<br />My skin will henceforth fit my flesh<br />So tightly and +so TWEEDIE-ly?”</p> +<p>The phantom said, “You’ll have all this,<br />You’ll +know no kind of huffiness,<br />Your life will be one chubby bliss,<br />One +long unruffled puffiness!”</p> +<p>“Be off!” said irritated BOB.<br />“Why come you +here to bother one?<br />You pharisaical old snob,<br />You’re +wuss almost than t’other one!</p> +<p>“I takes my pipe—I takes my pot,<br />And drunk I’m +never seen to be:<br />I’m no teetotaller or sot,<br />And as +I am I mean to be!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Story Of Prince Agib</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Strike the concertina’s melancholy string!<br />Blow the spirit-stirring +harp like anything!<br />Let the piano’s martial blast<br />Rouse +the Echoes of the Past,<br />For of AGIB, PRINCE OF TARTARY, I sing!</p> +<p>Of AGIB, who, amid Tartaric scenes,<br />Wrote a lot of ballet music +in his teens:<br />His gentle spirit rolls<br />In the melody of souls—<br />Which +is pretty, but I don’t know what it means.</p> +<p>Of AGIB, who could readily, at sight,<br />Strum a march upon the +loud Theodolite.<br />He would diligently play<br />On the Zoetrope +all day,<br />And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night.</p> +<p>One winter—I am shaky in my dates—<br />Came two starving +Tartar minstrels to his gates;<br />Oh, ALLAH be obeyed,<br />How infernally +they played!<br />I remember that they called themselves the “Oüaits.”</p> +<p>Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage,<br />I shall carry to the +Catacombs of Age,<br />Photographically lined<br />On the tablet of +my mind,<br />When a yesterday has faded from its page!</p> +<p>Alas! PRINCE AGIB went and asked them in;<br />Gave them beer, and +eggs, and sweets, and scent, and tin.<br />And when (as snobs would +say)<br />They had “put it all away,”<br />He requested +them to tune up and begin.</p> +<p>Though its icy horror chill you to the core,<br />I will tell you +what I never told before,—<br />The consequences true<br />Of +that awful interview,<br /><i>For I listened at the keyhole in the door</i>!</p> +<p>They played him a sonata—let me see!<br />“<i>Medulla +oblongata</i>”—key of G.<br />Then they began to sing<br />That +extremely lovely thing,<br /><i>Scherzando! ma non troppo</i>, <i>ppp</i>.”</p> +<p>He gave them money, more than they could count,<br />Scent from a +most ingenious little fount,<br />More beer, in little kegs,<br />Many +dozen hard-boiled eggs,<br />And goodies to a fabulous amount.</p> +<p>Now follows the dim horror of my tale,<br />And I feel I’m +growing gradually pale,<br />For, even at this day,<br />Though its +sting has passed away,<br />When I venture to remember it, I quail!</p> +<p>The elder of the brothers gave a squeal,<br />All-overish it made +me for to feel;<br />“Oh, PRINCE,” he says, says he,<br />“<i>If +a Prince indeed you be</i>,<br />I’ve a mystery I’m going +to reveal!</p> +<p>“Oh, listen, if you’d shun a horrid death,<br />To what +the gent who’s speaking to you saith:<br />No ‘Oüaits’ +in truth are we,<br />As you fancy that we be,<br />For (ter-remble!) +I am ALECK—this is BETH!”</p> +<p>Said AGIB, “Oh! accursed of your kind,<br />I have heard that +ye are men of evil mind!”<br />BETH gave a dreadful shriek—<br />But +before he’d time to speak<br />I was mercilessly collared from +behind.</p> +<p>In number ten or twelve, or even more,<br />They fastened me full +length upon the floor.<br />On my face extended flat,<br />I was walloped +with a cat<br />For listening at the keyhole of a door.</p> +<p>Oh! the horror of that agonizing thrill!<br />(I can feel the place +in frosty weather still).<br />For a week from ten to four<br />I was +fastened to the floor,<br />While a mercenary wopped me with a will</p> +<p>They branded me and broke me on a wheel,<br />And they left me in +an hospital to heal;<br />And, upon my solemn word,<br />I have never +never heard<br />What those Tartars had determined to reveal.</p> +<p>But that day of sorrow, misery, and rage,<br />I shall carry to the +Catacombs of Age,<br />Photographically lined<br />On the tablet of +my mind,<br />When a yesterday has faded from its page</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ellen McJones Aberdeen</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN<br />Was the son of an elderly +labouring man;<br />You’ve guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, +at sight,<br />And p’r’aps altogether, shrewd reader, you’re +right.</p> +<p>From the bonnie blue Forth to the lovely Deeside,<br />Round by Dingwall +and Wrath to the mouth of the Clyde,<br />There wasn’t a child +or a woman or man<br />Who could pipe with CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN.</p> +<p>No other could wake such detestable groans,<br />With reed and with +chaunter—with bag and with drones:<br />All day and ill night +he delighted the chiels<br />With sniggering pibrochs and jiggety reels.</p> +<p>He’d clamber a mountain and squat on the ground,<br />And the +neighbouring maidens would gather around<br />To list to the pipes and +to gaze in his een,<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.</p> +<p>All loved their McCLAN, save a Sassenach brute,<br />Who came to +the Highlands to fish and to shoot;<br />He dressed himself up in a +Highlander way,<br />Tho’ his name it was PATTISON CORBY TORBAY.</p> +<p>TORBAY had incurred a good deal of expense<br />To make him a Scotchman +in every sense;<br />But this is a matter, you’ll readily own,<br />That +isn’t a question of tailors alone.</p> +<p>A Sassenach chief may be bonily built,<br />He may purchase a sporran, +a bonnet, and kilt;<br />Stick a skeän in his hose—wear an +acre of stripes—<br />But he cannot assume an affection for pipes.</p> +<p>CLONGLOCKETY’S pipings all night and all day<br />Quite frenzied +poor PATTISON CORBY TORBAY;<br />The girls were amused at his singular +spleen,<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN,</p> +<p>“MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS, my lad,<br />With pibrochs +and reels you are driving me mad.<br />If you really must play on that +cursed affair,<br />My goodness! play something resembling an air.”</p> +<p>Boiled over the blood of MACPHAIRSON McCLAN—<br />The Clan +of Clonglocketty rose as one man;<br />For all were enraged at the insult, +I ween—<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.</p> +<p>“Let’s show,” said McCLAN, “to this Sassenach +loon<br />That the bagpipes <i>can</i> play him a regular tune.<br />Let’s +see,” said McCLAN, as he thoughtfully sat,<br />“’<i>In +my Cottage</i>’ is easy—I’ll practise at that.”</p> +<p>He blew at his “Cottage,” and blew with a will,<br />For +a year, seven months, and a fortnight, until<br />(You’ll hardly +believe it) McCLAN, I declare,<br />Elicited something resembling an +air.</p> +<p>It was wild—it was fitful—as wild as the breeze—<br />It +wandered about into several keys;<br />It was jerky, spasmodic, and +harsh, I’m aware;<br />But still it distinctly suggested an air.</p> +<p>The Sassenach screamed, and the Sassenach danced;<br />He shrieked +in his agony—bellowed and pranced;<br />And the maidens who gathered +rejoiced at the scene—<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.</p> +<p>“Hech gather, hech gather, hech gather around;<br />And fill +a’ ye lugs wi’ the exquisite sound.<br />An air fra’ +the bagpipes—beat that if ye can!<br />Hurrah for CLONGLOCKETTY +ANGUS McCLAN!”</p> +<p>The fame of his piping spread over the land:<br />Respectable widows +proposed for his hand,<br />And maidens came flocking to sit on the +green—<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.</p> +<p>One morning the fidgety Sassenach swore<br />He’d stand it +no longer—he drew his claymore,<br />And (this was, I think, in +extremely bad taste)<br />Divided CLONGLOCKETTY close to the waist.</p> +<p>Oh! loud were the wailings for ANGUS McCLAN,<br />Oh! deep was the +grief for that excellent man;<br />The maids stood aghast at the horrible +scene—<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.</p> +<p>It sorrowed poor PATTISON CORBY TORBAY<br />To find them “take +on” in this serious way;<br />He pitied the poor little fluttering +birds,<br />And solaced their souls with the following words:</p> +<p>“Oh, maidens,” said PATTISON, touching his hat,<br />“Don’t +blubber, my dears, for a fellow like that;<br />Observe, I’m a +very superior man,<br />A much better fellow than ANGUS McCLAN.”</p> +<p>They smiled when he winked and addressed them as “dears,”<br />And +they all of them vowed, as they dried up their tears,<br />A pleasanter +gentleman never was seen—<br />Especially ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Peter The Wag</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Policeman PETER forth I drag<br />From his obscure retreat:<br />He +was a merry genial wag,<br />Who loved a mad conceit.<br />If he were +asked the time of day,<br />By country bumpkins green,<br />He not unfrequently +would say,<br />“A quarter past thirteen.”</p> +<p>If ever you by word of mouth<br />Inquired of MISTER FORTH<br />The +way to somewhere in the South,<br />He always sent you North.<br />With +little boys his beat along<br />He loved to stop and play;<br />He loved +to send old ladies wrong,<br />And teach their feet to stray.</p> +<p>He would in frolic moments, when<br />Such mischief bent upon,<br />Take +Bishops up as betting men—<br />Bid Ministers move on.<br />Then +all the worthy boys he knew<br />He regularly licked,<br />And always +collared people who<br />Had had their pockets picked.</p> +<p>He was not naturally bad,<br />Or viciously inclined,<br />But from +his early youth he had<br />A waggish turn of mind.<br />The Men of +London grimly scowled<br />With indignation wild;<br />The Men of London +gruffly growled,<br />But PETER calmly smiled.</p> +<p>Against this minion of the Crown<br />The swelling murmurs grew—<br />From +Camberwell to Kentish Town—<br />From Rotherhithe to Kew.<br />Still +humoured he his wagsome turn,<br />And fed in various ways<br />The +coward rage that dared to burn,<br />But did not dare to blaze.</p> +<p>Still, Retribution has her day,<br />Although her flight is slow:<br /><i>One +day that Crusher lost his way<br />Near Poland Street</i>, <i>Soho.<br /></i>The +haughty boy, too proud to ask,<br />To find his way resolved,<br />And +in the tangle of his task<br />Got more and more involved.</p> +<p>The Men of London, overjoyed,<br />Came there to jeer their foe,<br />And +flocking crowds completely cloyed<br />The mazes of Soho.<br />The news +on telegraphic wires<br />Sped swiftly o’er the lea,<br />Excursion +trains from distant shires<br />Brought myriads to see.</p> +<p>For weeks he trod his self-made beats<br />Through Newport- Gerrard- +Bear-<br />Greek- Rupert- Frith- Dean- Poland- Streets,<br />And into +Golden Square.<br />But all, alas! in vain, for when<br />He tried to +learn the way<br />Of little boys or grown-up men,<br />They none of +them would say.</p> +<p>Their eyes would flash—their teeth would grind—<br />Their +lips would tightly curl—<br />They’d say, “Thy way +thyself must find,<br />Thou misdirecting churl!”<br />And, similarly, +also, when<br />He tried a foreign friend;<br />Italians answered, “<i>Il +balen</i>”—<br />The French, “No comprehend.”</p> +<p>The Russ would say with gleaming eye<br />“ Sevastopol!” +and groan.<br />The Greek said, Τυπτω, τυπτομαι,<br />Τυπτω, +τυπτειν, τυπτων.”<br />To +wander thus for many a year<br />That Crusher never ceased—<br />The +Men of London dropped a tear,<br />Their anger was appeased</p> +<p>At length exploring gangs were sent<br />To find poor FORTH’S +remains—<br />A handsome grant by Parliament<br />Was voted for +their pains.<br />To seek the poor policeman out<br />Bold spirits volunteered,<br />And +when they swore they’d solve the doubt,<br />The Men of London +cheered.</p> +<p>And in a yard, dark, dank, and drear,<br />They found him, on the +floor—<br />It leads from Richmond Buildings—near<br />The +Royalty stage-door.<br />With brandy cold and brandy hot<br />They plied +him, starved and wet,<br />And made him sergeant on the spot—<br />The +Men of London’s pet!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ben Allah Achmet;—Or, The Fatal Tum</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I once did know a Turkish man<br />Whom I upon a two-pair-back met,<br />His +name it was EFFENDI KHAN<br />BACKSHEESH PASHA BEN ALLAH ACHMET.</p> +<p>A DOCTOR BROWN I also knew—<br />I’ve often eaten of +his bounty;<br />The Turk and he they lived at Hooe,<br />In Sussex, +that delightful county!</p> +<p>I knew a nice young lady there,<br />Her name was EMILY MACPHERSON,<br />And +though she wore another’s hair,<br />She was an interesting person.</p> +<p>The Turk adored the maid of Hooe<br />(Although his harem would have +shocked her).<br />But BROWN adored that maiden too:<br />He was a most +seductive doctor.</p> +<p>They’d follow her where’er she’d go—<br />A +course of action most improper;<br />She neither knew by sight, and +so<br />For neither of them cared a copper.</p> +<p>BROWN did not know that Turkish male,<br />He might have been his +sainted mother:<br />The people in this simple tale<br />Are total strangers +to each other.</p> +<p>One day that Turk he sickened sore,<br />And suffered agonies oppressive;<br />He +threw himself upon the floor<br />And rolled about in pain excessive.</p> +<p>It made him moan, it made him groan,<br />And almost wore him to +a mummy.<br />Why should I hesitate to own<br />That pain was in his +little tummy?</p> +<p>At length a doctor came, and rung<br />(As ALLAH ACHMET had desired),<br />Who +felt his pulse, looked up his tongue,<br />And hemmed and hawed, and +then inquired:</p> +<p>“Where is the pain that long has preyed<br />Upon you in so +sad a way, sir?”<br />The Turk he giggled, blushed, and said:<br />I +don’t exactly like to say, sir.”</p> +<p>“Come, nonsense!” said good DOCTOR BROWN.<br />“So +this is Turkish coyness, is it?<br />You must contrive to fight it down—<br />Come, +come, sir, please to be explicit.”</p> +<p>The Turk he shyly bit his thumb,<br />And coyly blushed like one +half-witted,<br />“The pain is in my little tum,”<br />He, +whispering, at length admitted.</p> +<p>“Then take you this, and take you that—<br />Your blood +flows sluggish in its channel—<br />You must get rid of all this +fat,<br />And wear my medicated flannel.</p> +<p>“You’ll send for me when you’re in need—<br />My +name is BROWN—your life I’ve saved it.”<br />“My +rival!” shrieked the invalid,<br />And drew a mighty sword and +waved it:</p> +<p>“This to thy weazand, Christian pest!”<br />Aloud the +Turk in frenzy yelled it,<br />And drove right through the doctor’s +chest<br />The sabre and the hand that held it.</p> +<p>The blow was a decisive one,<br />And DOCTOR BROWN grew deadly pasty,<br />“Now +see the mischief that you’ve done—<br />You Turks are so +extremely hasty.</p> +<p>“There are two DOCTOR BROWNS in Hooe—<br /><i>He’s</i> +short and stout, <i>I’m</i> tall and wizen;<br />You’ve +been and run the wrong one through,<br />That’s how the error +has arisen.”</p> +<p>The accident was thus explained,<br />Apologies were only heard now:<br />“At +my mistake I’m really pained—<br />I am, indeed—upon +my word now.</p> +<p>“With me, sir, you shall be interred,<br />A mausoleum grand +awaits me.”<br />“Oh, pray don’t say another word,<br />I’m +sure that more than compensates me.</p> +<p>“But p’r’aps, kind Turk, you’re full inside?”<br />“There’s +room,” said he, “for any number.”<br />And so they +laid them down and died.<br />In proud Stamboul they sleep their slumber,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>The Three Kings Of Chickeraboo</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There were three niggers of Chickeraboo—<br />PACIFICO, BANG-BANG, +POPCHOP—who<br />Exclaimed, one terribly sultry day,<br />“Oh, +let’s be kings in a humble way.”</p> +<p>The first was a highly-accomplished “bones,”<br />The +next elicited banjo tones,<br />The third was a quiet, retiring chap,<br />Who +danced an excellent break-down “flap.”</p> +<p>“We niggers,” said they, “have formed a plan<br />By +which, whenever we like, we can<br />Extemporise kingdoms near the beach,<br />And +then we’ll collar a kingdom each.</p> +<p>“Three casks, from somebody else’s stores,<br />Shall +represent our island shores,<br />Their sides the ocean wide shall lave,<br />Their +heads just topping the briny wave.</p> +<p>“Great Britain’s navy scours the sea,<br />And everywhere +her ships they be;<br />She’ll recognise our rank, perhaps,<br />When +she discovers we’re Royal Chaps.</p> +<p>“If to her skirts you want to cling,<br />It’s quite +sufficient that you’re a king;<br />She does not push inquiry +far<br />To learn what sort of king you are.”</p> +<p>A ship of several thousand tons,<br />And mounting seventy-something +guns,<br />Ploughed, every year, the ocean blue,<br />Discovering kings +and countries new.</p> +<p>The brave REAR-ADMIRAL BAILEY PIP,<br />Commanding that magnificent +ship,<br />Perceived one day, his glasses through,<br />The kings that +came from Chickeraboo.</p> +<p>“Dear eyes!” said ADMIRAL PIP, “I see<br />Three +flourishing islands on our lee.<br />And, bless me! most remarkable +thing!<br />On every island stands a king!</p> +<p>“Come, lower the Admiral’s gig,” he cried,<br />“And +over the dancing waves I’ll glide;<br />That low obeisance I may +do<br />To those three kings of Chickeraboo!”</p> +<p>The Admiral pulled to the islands three;<br />The kings saluted him +gracious<i>lee</i>.<br />The Admiral, pleased at his welcome warm,<br />Unrolled +a printed Alliance form.</p> +<p>“Your Majesty, sign me this, I pray—<br />I come in a +friendly kind of way—<br />I come, if you please, with the best +intents,<br />And QUEEN VICTORIA’S compliments.”</p> +<p>The kings were pleased as they well could be;<br />The most retiring +of the three,<br />In a “cellar-flap” to his joy gave vent<br />With +a banjo-bones accompaniment.</p> +<p>The great REAR-ADMIRAL BAILEY PIP<br />Embarked on board his jolly +big ship,<br />Blue Peter flew from his lofty fore,<br />And off he +sailed to his native shore.</p> +<p>ADMIRAL PIP directly went<br />To the Lord at the head of the Government,<br />Who +made him, by a stroke of a quill,<br />BARON DE PIPPE, OF PIPPETONNEVILLE.</p> +<p>The College of Heralds permission yield<br />That he should quarter +upon his shield<br />Three islands, <i>vert</i>, on a field of blue,<br />With +the pregnant motto “Chickeraboo.”</p> +<p>Ambassadors, yes, and attachés, too,<br />Are going to sail +for Chickeraboo.<br />And, see, on the good ship’s crowded deck,<br />A +bishop, who’s going out there on spec.</p> +<p>And let us all hope that blissful things<br />May come of alliance +with darky kings,<br />And, may we never, whatever we do,<br />Declare +a war with Chickeraboo!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Joe Golightly—Or, The First Lord’s Daughter</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A tar, but poorly prized,<br />Long, shambling, and unsightly,<br />Thrashed, +bullied, and despised,<br />Was wretched JOE GOLIGHTLY.</p> +<p>He bore a workhouse brand;<br />No Pa or Ma had claimed him,<br />The +Beadle found him, and<br />The Board of Guardians named him.</p> +<p>P’r’aps some Princess’s son—<br />A beggar +p’r’aps his mother.<br /><i>He</i> rather thought the one,<br />I +rather think the other.</p> +<p>He liked his ship at sea,<br />He loved the salt sea-water,<br />He +worshipped junk, and he<br />Adored the First Lord’s daughter.</p> +<p>The First Lord’s daughter, proud,<br />Snubbed Earls and Viscounts +nightly;<br />She sneered at Barts. aloud,<br />And spurned poor Joe +Golightly.</p> +<p>Whene’er he sailed afar<br />Upon a Channel cruise, he<br />Unpacked +his light guitar<br />And sang this ballad (Boosey):</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Ballad</p> +<p>The moon is on the sea,<br />Willow!<br />The wind blows towards +the lee,<br />Willow!<br />But though I sigh and sob and cry,<br />No +Lady Jane for me,<br />Willow!</p> +<p>She says, “’Twere folly quite,<br />Willow!<br />For +me to wed a wight,<br />Willow!<br />Whose lot is cast before the mast”;<br />And +possibly she’s right,<br />Willow!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>His skipper (CAPTAIN JOYCE),<br />He gave him many a rating,<br />And +almost lost his voice<br />From thus expostulating:</p> +<p>“Lay aft, you lubber, do!<br />What’s come to that young +man, JOE?<br />Belay!—’vast heaving! you!<br />Do kindly +stop that banjo!</p> +<p>“I wish, I do—O lor’!—<br />You’d shipped +aboard a trader:<br /><i>Are</i> you a sailor or<br />A negro serenader?”</p> +<p>But still the stricken lad,<br />Aloft or on his pillow,<br />Howled +forth in accents sad<br />His aggravating “Willow!”</p> +<p>Stern love of duty bad<br />Been JOYCE’S chiefest beauty;<br />Says +he, “I love that lad,<br />But duty, damme! duty!</p> +<p>“Twelve months’ black-hole, I say,<br />Where daylight +never flashes;<br />And always twice a day<br />A good six dozen lashes!”</p> +<p>But JOSEPH had a mate,<br />A sailor stout and lusty,<br />A man +of low estate,<br />But singularly trusty.</p> +<p>Says he, “Cheer hup, young JOE!<br />I’ll tell you what +I’m arter—<br />To that Fust Lord I’ll go<br />And +ax him for his darter.</p> +<p>“To that Fust Lord I’ll go<br />And say you love her +dearly.”<br />And JOE said (weeping low),<br />“I wish you +would, sincerely!”</p> +<p>That sailor to that Lord<br />Went, soon as he had landed,<br />And +of his own accord<br />An interview demanded.</p> +<p>Says he, with seaman’s roll,<br />“My Captain (wot’s +a Tartar)<br />Guv JOE twelve months’ black-hole,<br />For lovering +your darter.</p> +<p>“He loves MISS LADY JANE<br />(I own she is his betters),<br />But +if you’ll jine them twain,<br />They’ll free him from his +fetters.</p> +<p>“And if so be as how<br />You’ll let her come aboard +ship,<br />I’ll take her with me now.”<br />“Get out!” +remarked his Lordship.</p> +<p>That honest tar repaired<br />To JOE upon the billow,<br />And told +him how he’d fared.<br />JOE only whispered, “Willow!”</p> +<p>And for that dreadful crime<br />(Young sailors, learn to shun it)<br />He’s +working out his time;<br />In six months he’ll have done it.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>To The Terrestrial Globe. By A Miserable Wretch</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Roll on, thou ball, roll on!<br />Through pathless realms of Space<br />Roll +on!<br />What though I’m in a sorry case?<br />What though I cannot +meet my bills?<br />What though I suffer toothache’s ills?<br />What +though I swallow countless pills?<br />Never <i>you</i> mind!<br />Roll +on!</p> +<p>Roll on, thou ball, roll on!<br />Through seas of inky air<br />Roll +on!<br />It’s true I’ve got no shirts to wear;<br />It’s +true my butcher’s bill is due;<br />It’s true my prospects +all look blue—<br />But don’t let that unsettle you!<br />Never +<i>you</i> mind!<br />Roll on!</p> +<p>[<i>It rolls on</i>.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Gentle Alice Brown</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It was a robber’s daughter, and her name was ALICE BROWN,<br />Her +father was the terror of a small Italian town;<br />Her mother was a +foolish, weak, but amiable old thing;<br />But it isn’t of her +parents that I’m going for to sing.</p> +<p>As ALICE was a-sitting at her window-sill one day,<br />A beautiful +young gentleman he chanced to pass that way;<br />She cast her eyes +upon him, and he looked so good and true,<br />That she thought, “I +could be happy with a gentleman like you!”</p> +<p>And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen,<br />She +knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten;<br />A sorter in the +Custom-house, it was his daily road<br />(The Custom-house was fifteen +minutes’ walk from her abode).</p> +<p>But ALICE was a pious girl, who knew it wasn’t wise<br />To +look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes;<br />So she +sought the village priest to whom her family confessed,<br />The priest +by whom their little sins were carefully assessed.</p> +<p>“Oh, holy father,” ALICE said, “’t would +grieve you, would it not,<br />To discover that I was a most disreputable +lot?<br />Of all unhappy sinners I’m the most unhappy one!”<br />The +padre said, “Whatever have you been and gone and done?”</p> +<p>“I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad,<br />I’ve +assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad,<br />I’ve planned +a little burglary and forged a little cheque,<br />And slain a little +baby for the coral on its neck!”</p> +<p>The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear,<br />And +said, “You mustn’t judge yourself too heavily, my dear:<br />It’s +wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece;<br />But sins like +these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece.</p> +<p>“Girls will be girls—you’re very young, and flighty +in your mind;<br />Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect +to find:<br />We mustn’t be too hard upon these little girlish +tricks—<br />Let’s see—five crimes at half-a-crown—exactly +twelve-and-six.”</p> +<p>“Oh, father,” little Alice cried, “your kindness +makes me weep,<br />You do these little things for me so singularly +cheap—<br />Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget;<br />But, +oh! there is another crime I haven’t mentioned yet!</p> +<p>“A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes,<br />I’ve +noticed at my window, as I’ve sat a-catching flies;<br />He passes +by it every day as certain as can be—<br />I blush to say I’ve +winked at him, and he has winked at me!”</p> +<p>“For shame!” said FATHER PAUL, “my erring daughter! +On my word<br />This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard.<br />Why, +naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand<br />To a promising +young robber, the lieutenant of his band!</p> +<p>“This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents +so!<br />They are the most remunerative customers I know;<br />For many +many years they’ve kept starvation from my doors:<br />I never +knew so criminal a family as yours!</p> +<p>“The common country folk in this insipid neighbourhood<br />Have +nothing to confess, they’re so ridiculously good;<br />And if +you marry any one respectable at all,<br />Why, you’ll reform, +and what will then become of FATHER PAUL?”</p> +<p>The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown,<br />And +started off in haste to tell the news to ROBBER BROWN—<br />To +tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit,<br />Had winked +upon a sorter, who reciprocated it.</p> +<p>Good ROBBER BROWN he muffled up his anger pretty well:<br />He said, +“I have a notion, and that notion I will tell;<br />I will nab +this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,<br />And get my gentle +wife to chop him into little bits.</p> +<p>“I’ve studied human nature, and I know a thing or two:<br />Though +a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do—<br />A feeling +of disgust upon her senses there will fall<br />When she looks upon +his body chopped particularly small.”</p> +<p>He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square;<br />He +watched his opportunity, and seized him unaware;<br />He took a life-preserver +and he hit him on the head,<br />And MRS. BROWN dissected him before +she went to bed.</p> +<p>And pretty little ALICE grew more settled in her mind,<br />She never +more was guilty of a weakness of the kind,<br />Until at length good +ROBBER BROWN bestowed her pretty hand<br />On the promising young robber, +the lieutenant of his band.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BAB BALLADS ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named 2babb10h.htm or 2babb10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, 2babb11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 2babb10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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