Skip to main content

Full text of "The "Bab" ballads : much sound and little sense"

See other formats




3 3333 08115 4169 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2007 with funding from 

IVIicrosoft Corporation 



The "Bab" Ballads. 

Jtluth ^ound and Jtitllc ^tmt 

ill rt "^'^l 

"'I ! 

-I— ift 





^ ^ 

rnm-mi Y OF THE i | T^O Q 1^ 



TT appears now-a-days to be an absolute necessity that the 

subject-matter of even the most insignificant books should 

be heralded by a Preface ; and I believe that there are on record 

instances of authors who have experienced no difficulty what* 

ever in spinning very slender materials into a three-volume 

novel, and yet have found themselves terribly perplexed when 

called upon by their publishers to fill two or three pages with a 

vindication of their motives in writing it: just as busy people 

find it very easy to be guilty of an impertinence, but very difii* 

cult indeed to apologize satisfactorily for it. 

I have some reason to believe that the Ballads, which now 

appear for the first time in a collected form, have achieved a 

certain whimsical popularity among a special class of readers. 

I hope to gather, from their publication in a separate volume, 

whether that popularity (such as it is) is a thing to be gratified 

with. With respect to the Ballads themselves, I do not know 




thttt I have anything very definite to say about them, except 
that they are not, as a rule, founded upon fact. 

I have ventured to publish the illustrations with them because, 
while they are certainly quite as bad as the Ballads, I suppose 
they are not much worse. If, therefore, the Ballads are worthy 
of publication in a collected form, the little pictures would have 
a right to complain if they were omitted. I do not know that 
they would avail themselves of that right, but I should, never- 
theless, have it on my conscience that I had been guilty of 
partiality. If, on the other hand, the Ballads should unfortu- 
nately be condemned as wholly unworthy of the dignity with 
which the Publishers have invested them, they will have the 
satisfaction of feeling that they have companions in misfortune 
ID the rather clumsy sketches that accompany them. 

W. S. G. 



Captain Reece • * 3 

rke Rival Curates ■ • » ^ 

Only a Dancing Giri 24 

General John .... . . 27 

To a Little Maid 3 ' 

John and Freddy 3^ 

Sir Guy the Crusader . 35 

Haunted . ■ 4^ 

The Bishop and the Busman 43 

rhe Troubadour ....... 4^ 

Ferdinando and Elvira 54 

Lorenzo de Lardy 59 

Disillusioned ^4 

Bahette's Love ^7 




To My Bride ....... 72 

Thi Folly of Brown 74 

Sir Macklin 80 

rke Yarn of the '' Nancy Bdl" .... 85 

The Bishop oj Rum-ti-Foo ...... 90 

The Precocious Baby ...... 96 

To Fhothe . . . . . . . . .102 

Baines Carew, Gentleman . . . . . 103 

Thomas Winterbottom Hance 109 

The Reverend Micah Sozuls 115 

A Discontented Sugar Broker . . . . .12c 

The Pantomime " Super'' to his Mask . . . 127 
The Force of Argument . . . . . .129 

The Ghost, the Gallant, the Gael, and the Goblin . 135 
The Phantom Curate . . . , . . .141 
The Sensation Captain . . . . . . 144 

Tempera Mutantur . , . . . . .150 

At a Pantomime . --. . . . . , 153 

King Bor via Bung alee Boo . . . . . .158 

The Perizvinkle Girl 16^ 



Thomson Green and Harriet Hale . . . .169 

Bob Poller .... ... 174 

The Story of Prince Agib . . . . .181 

Ellen Mc Jones Aberdeen . . . . • 186 

Peter the Wag ' . . .192 

Ben Allah Achmet • . 198 

The Three Kings of Chickerahoo 204 

yoe GoUghtly 209 

To the Terrestrial Globe , . . . . .216 

Gentle Alice Brown . ,,..217 

The Bumbo at Woman' s Story . . . . -223 



OF all the ships upon the blue, 
No ship contained a bettet crew 
Than that of worthy Captain Reege, 
Commandiog 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 very 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 Saturddi/ 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 Rep:ck, 
Beatified The Mantelpiece. 


One summer eve, at lialf-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 '11 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 Rkece, 
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 Eeece, that worthy man, 
Debated on his coxswain's plan : 
" I quite agree," he said, " 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, 
T '11 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 Reeoe 
'• I beg your honor'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 1 

Well, well, the chaplain I will seek. 
We '11 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 d'.d. 


T 1ST 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 armor 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 did n'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 Assesniilk-cum-Worter. 



'' He plays the airy flute, 

And looks depressed and blighted, 
Doves round about him ' toot,' 
And lambkins dance delitrhted. 

" He labors 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 weok-days they were minions.) 



" To HorLEY 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 : 

" 1 '11 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 A£3esmilk-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, T 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 ^oins:. 


NLY a dancino; o-irl 
With an unromantic style, 

Witli borrowed color and curl, 
With fixed mechanical smile, 
With many a hackneyed wile, 

With ungrammatical lips, 

And corns that mar her trips I 



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? 

(x\nd, 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 M 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 dowi 
Her drunken father's frown, 

In his squalid cheerless den : 

She's a fairy truly, then I 



^HE bravest names for fire and flames, 

And all that mortal durst, 
Were General John and Private James, 

Of the Sixty-seventy-first. 



Gkneral 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 I" was a fiivorite 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 uneaith) 
But I 've a kind of notion we 
Were cruelly changed at birth. 

'■'■ I 've a strange idea, each other's names 
That we have each 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 Gexemal John, 

And he also said, '' Ho I ho I" 



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 
Tliat we were probably changed at birth, 
I '11 venture to say you're right." 


Fell in, parade upon; 
And Private James, by change of names, 
Was Major-General John. 


By a Policeman. 

nOMY, 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 ! 




OHN courted lovely Mary Ann, 
So likewise did his brother Freddy, 

Fred was a very soft young man, 

While John, though quick, was most unsteady. 

Young Fred had grace all men above. 
But John was very much the strongest. 

Oh, dance," said she, " to win my love — 
I '11 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) 
h wandering curate passed that way 

And talked a lot of gondy-goody. 


" Oil my," said lie, with solemn frown, 
" I tremble for each dancing /ra^e?*, 
Like unregenerated clown 

And harlequin at some thee-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 '11 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 '11 marry Frederick or Johnny. 


OIR G-UY 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 at Aden, 

Her mother she played in burlesque. 

A corypMe 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 — 
Ecstaticized 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. 

GrUY saw her, and loved her, with reason, 
For beauty so bright, 
Set 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, 

Stand idly and sob. 
While a beautiful Saracen maiden 
Is whipped by a Saracen snob ? 

" To London I '11 go from my charmer." 
Which he did, with his loot 
(Seven hats and a flute). 
And was nabbed for his Sydenham armor, 
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. 


TT AUNTED ? Aye, 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 dicky ! 

Mine are horrible, social ghosts, 

Speeches and women and guests and hosts. 

Weddings and morning calls and toasts, 

In every bad variety : 
Grhosts 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 wsingle day 

For all the wealth of Plutus — • 
Are the horrible ghosts that school-days scared : 
If the classical ghost that Brutus dared 
Was ih^Q ghost of his ^' Csesar" 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 school-girl 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), 

(I called the judge, "Your wushupl") 
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. 

G-hosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks, 
Ghosts of " copy, declined with thanks," 
Of novels returned in endless ranks, 
And thousands more, I sufi"er. 




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 dufi'er." 

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 chief est 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. 


T T 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-directine: Jew. 




The Bishop said, said he, 

" I '11 see what I can do 
To Christianize 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 1" 

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 awful riled, 

And busted 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 '11 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, 

(And chuckled loud with joy) 

Be Christian you, instead of Jew- 
Become a Christian boy. 

" I '11 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. 



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 I 
If I were only free 

I 'd hie me far away !" 



Unknown her face and name, 

But this lie 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 recognise 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 V* 



" 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 V 

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. 


Or the Gentle Pieman. 


A T a pleasant evening party I 
-^ One whom I will call Ela? 

had taken down to supper 
will call Ely 


Elvira, and we talked of love and 

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 

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 


There were noblemen in coronets, and military cousins, 
There were captains by the hundred, there were baronets by 



Yet she heeded not their offers, but dismissed them with a 

Then she let down all her back hair which had taken long in 


Then she had convulsive sobbings in her agitated throttle, 
Then she wiped her pretty eyes and smelt her pretty smelling 

So I whispered, " Dear Elvira, say, — what can the matter be 

with you ? ^ 

Does anything you've eaten, darling Popsy, disagree with 


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 

Then she gazed upon the carpet, at the ceiling then above me. 
And she whispered, " Ferdinando, do you really, realh/ love 



" 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 Cox WELL 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 is n't polar bears, or hot volcanic grottoes, 
Only find out who it is that writes those lovely cracker 
mottoes !" 


"Tell me, Henry Wadsworth, Alfred, Poet Close, or 

Mister Tupper, 
Do you write the bonbon mottoes my Elvira pulls at supper ?" 

But Henry Wadsworth smiled, and said he had not had that 

honor : 
And Alfred, too, disclaimed the words that told so much upon 


" Mister Martin Tupper, Poet Close, I beg of you inform 

But my question seemed to throw them both into a rage 


Mister Close expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to 

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 

And kis little wife was pretty, and particularly cozy. 

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, " 0, 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 CK)uId 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 

Then I make a sugar birdcage, 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 ! 



^ An oflBcer, late of the Gruards, 
Lorenzo de Lardy, a lord — 
A personal friend of the Bard's. 



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 favorite freaks 
Was to hide himself three times a year 

In Paris, for several weeks. 

Many days did n'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 : 


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." 

He 'd gaze in her eyes all the day, 

Admiring their sparkle and dance, 
And list while she rattled away 

In the musical accents of France. 

A waiter, for seasons before. 

Had basked in her beautiful gaze, 

And burnt to dismember Milor, 

He loied De La Sauce Mayonnaise. 



He said to her, '' Mechante Therese, 
Avec desespoir tu m'accables, 

Pense tu, De la Sauce Mayonnaise, 
Ses intentioos sont lioaorables. 

" Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu oses — 
Je me vengerai ainsi, ma ch^re, 
Je le dirai de quoi on compose 
Vol au vent d 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 corypMe, 
Who danced in the hindermost rows 

At the Theatre des Varietes. 

Mademoiselle de la Sauce Mayonnaise 

Did n't yield to a gnawing despair, 
But married a soldier, and plays 

As a pretty and pert Vivandiere. 


By an Ex-Enthusiast. 

AH, 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, stock-broking face, 

And spectacles and wig. 


My favourite actor who, at will, 
Witli mimic woe my eyes €ould 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 
Ts 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 lime-light, 

And ye who battles wage, 
Or that in darkness I had died 
Before my soul had ever sighed 

To see you off the stage ! 


"D ABETTE slie was a fisher gal, 

^^ With jupon striped and cap in crimps, 

She passed her days inside the Halle, 

Or collaring of little 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 I" said she, " Jacot, my pet, 
Vous §tes trop scraggy pour Babette. 



" Of one alone I nightly dream, 

An able mariner is he, 
And gaily serves the Gen'ral Steara- 

Boat Navigation Companee, 
I '11 marry him, if he but will — 
Ilis 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 1 

" Oh, mon !" exclaimed the Customs bold, 
" Mes yeux !" he said, which means, " my eye. 

"Oh, ch^re!" 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 Puntherh 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 aflfairs ; 
I have an able-bodied wife 

Awaiting me at Wapping Stairs ; 
If all this here to her I tell, 
She '11 larrup me and you as well. 


" Skin-Jeep, 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 " Wapping 

'• Oho !" the Captain said, " I see ! 

And is she then so very strong ? '' 
" She 'd take your honor's scruff,'' said he, 

" And pitch you over to Bolong ! " 
" I pardon you," the Captain said, 
" The fair Babette you need n'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'r'aps they're all alive and well : 

I cannot, cannot, cannot tell. 


(whoever she may be.) 

r\H ! little maid ! — (I do not know your name 
^^ Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution 
I '11 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 fat© 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 '11 find him working mildly at the Bar, 
After a touch at two or three professions. 
From easy afiluence 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 V* 

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 color of her eyes, too, you may mention : 
Come, Sybil, prophesy — I 'm all attention. 



By a General Agent. 
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. 

Grood 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, 
/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 prefers his brass, 

Though shares at par I freely proffer : 
Yes — will it be believed ? — the ass 

Declines, with thanks, my well-meant offer ! 

He added, with a bumpkin's 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, 
1 '11 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 would n'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 would n't hear of that — 

" He did n't think the style would suit him !" 

I offered him a county seat, 

And made no end of an oration ; 
I made it certainly complete, 

And introduced the deputation. 



But no — the clown my prospects blights — 
(The worth of birth it surely teaches !) 
" Why should I want to spend my nights 
In Parliament, a-making speeches ? 

I have n'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 1" 

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 Beason's rule 

This poor uneducated clown is, 
You can/iof fancy what a fool 

Poor rich uneducated Brown is. 


f\F all the youths I ever saw 

None were so wicked, vain, or silly, 
So lost to shame and Sunday 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, " 1 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. 

'* iVly opening head is ' Kensington,' 

How walking there the sinner hardens, 
Which when I have enlarged upon, 
[ go to ' Secondly' — its ' Gardens. 



My ' Thirdly ' comprehendeth ' Hyde/ 
Of Secrecy 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 V 

(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. 


'''pWAS 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 : 

* A version of this ballad is published as a Song, by Mr. Jeffreys, Soho Square. 

8 (85) 


'' Oh, elderly man, it's little I know, 
Of the duties of men of the sea, 
And I '11 eat my hand if I understand 
How you can possibly 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 lam, 
And having got rid of a thumping quid, 

He spun this painful yarn : 

" 'T was 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 o* 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 '11 be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom, 
' Yes, that,' says I, ' you '11 be,' — 
' J '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 i/ou ! ' 

*' 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 '11 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 sio;ht I see. 


" And I never larf, and I never smile, 
And I never lark nor play, 
But I 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.'" 


T?E,OM 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 humor them, he did the same 
As thej of Bum-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 lie 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-Foozle-ite. 

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 batfemeiits, cuts, and pas de basque 
(I '11 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 friond ! " 

** 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. 
Tf, when revisiting your see, 
You learnt to hop on shore — like me — 
The novelty must striking be, 
And must excite remark," 


" No," said the worthy Bishop, " No ; 
That is a length to which, 1 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 Bum-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 !" 


( To he sung to the Air of the " Whistling Oyster.**) 

A N 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 of seventy-three : 

Now what she could see 

Is a puzzle to me, 
In a buflfer of seventy — seventy-three ! 

Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad) 

With their loiid 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 V^ 

He 'd a weed in his mouth and a glass in his eye, 
A hat all awry — 
An octagon tie, 

And a miniature — miniature c^lass in his eye. 

He grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap, 
With his " Oh, dear, oh V 
And his " Hang it ! you know V 


And he turned up liis nose at his excellent pap- 
" My friends, it's a tap 
That is not worth 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"— 
" You doosed fine gal !" 
This shocking precocity drove 'em away : 
" A month from to-day 
Is as long as I '11 stay — 
Then I 'd wish, if you please, for to hook it 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 affaid '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 Groldenhair, 
Till the nuisance was more than a prophet could bear. 


" There 's Jill and White Cat" (said the little bold 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 did n't live to contrive j 

His health did n't thrive — 

No longer alive, 
He died an enfeebled old dotard at five -' 



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. 


^^n ENTLE, 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 lovea YOU. Piicebe 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, Phcebe dear ! 



r\F all the good attorneys who 
^^ Have placed their names upon the roll, 
But few could equal Baines Carew 
For tenderheartedness 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. 
Grave 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 mensd I shall try " 
(A legal separation — not 
A vinculo conjugii). 

" Oh, Baines Carew, my woe I 've kept 
A secret,, hitherto, you know j" — 
(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 — 
Gro on to the ssevitia, please." 

" Domestic bliss has proved my bane, 
A harder case you never heard, 
My wife (in other matters sane) 
Pretends that I 'm a Bicky 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 Polterthwaite I '11 go — 

" To Cobb's cold calculating ear 

My gruesome sorrows I'll impart" — 

" No ; stop," said Baines, " I ']1 dry my tear, 
And steel my sympathetic heart !" 

*' She makes me perch upon a tree, 

Rewarding me with, ' Sweety — nice I' 
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." 

" Ohj not at all," said Baines Carew. 

" She makes me fire a gun," said Bagg j 
'• 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 I' 
She gives me groundsel every day, 
And hard canary seed to eat." 



Oh, W09 ! oh, sad ! oh, dire to tell V 

(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 ofi" next door, 
And gave the case to Mr. Cobb. 


TN 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. 
10 (109) 



On whole lialf-sheep, with cunning trick, 
His sabre sometimes he M 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 shor( 

It caused good Pierre to swear and dance, 
The sight annoyed and vexed him so; 

He was the Ira vest man in France — 
He said so, and he ought to know. 


" Kegardez, done, ce coclaon gros — 
Ce polisson ! Oh, sacre bleu ! 
Son sabre, son plomb, et ses gigots ! 

Comme cela m'ennuye, enfiu, mon Dieu! 

" II salt 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 '11 be upon the spot 

To see my TomiMy's sabre-play ;" 
And so she left her leafy cot, 

And walked to Dover in a day. 

Pierre had a doting 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, 
G-rew 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 ofisprings' 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 — 
Gro in, my noble boy, and win." 
" En garde, mon fils V said Madame P. 
"Aliens!" "Goon!" "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. 


^HE Reverend Micah Sowls, 

He shouts, and veils, and howls, 
He screams, he mouths, he bumps, 
, He foams, he rants, he thumps. 

His armor 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, 
Groes 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 broad-cast : 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 ! Gro 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 j 
*' I thought it all frivolity and vice." 

The Bishop handed him a counter plain ; 
" Just take this stall and go to Drury Lane." 



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 " wast 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." said he, " /was a dreary thing, 
I thought my voice quite destitute of ring, 
I thought my ranting could distract the brain, 
But oh ! I had n't been to Drury Lane. 

" Forgive me, Drury Lane, 
Thou penitential fane. 
Where sinners should be cast 
To mourn their wicked past ! '' 


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 /go 
And do it? No! 
His name I shall not mention. 



He had a trusty wife and true, 

And very cozy 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 '11 go in for air 
And exercise in plenty." 

Most people think that, should it come, 
They can reduce a bulging turn 
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 '11 back 
The noisy laugh 
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 labored 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. 




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. 


TTAST 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 : 
Pve 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 th?/ thread-bare morality ? 
Both grieving that their individuality 

Is merged in thine ? 


T ORD 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 galloped, 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 

Imagined their chances looked well — 

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 endeavored 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, 


's quite indisputable, for 
I '11 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. 

" Yery good then," continued the lord, 

" When its 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 j" 
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. 

" Gro 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 amho, convinced. 


/'VEE, 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 T' 
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 efi'ective. 
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 I 

Of such as he the bard has said 

' Hech thrawfu' raltie rorkie ! 
Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperhead 
And fash' wi' un^o pawkie !' 



He '11 faint away when I appear, 

Upon his native heather; 
Or p'r'aps he '11 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. 


A BISHOP once — T will not name liis 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, 'twas Christmas Eve, and to enhance 

His children's pleasure in their harmless rollicking. 
Ho, 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 penally, 
That phantom-curate laughing all hyaenally. 


Now at a pic-nic, 'mid fair golden curls, 

Bright eyes, straw hats, hottines that fit amazingly : 
A croquet-hovit 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, 

" Yicars, 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. 


"VrO 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'r'aps 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, T 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 — 

'T was 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, 

x\nd 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 

To such a situation ! 


"I'll not reveal myself," said he, 
" Till they are both in the Eccle- 
siastical Arena ; 
Then suddenly I will appear, 
And paralyzing 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'r'aps, 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. 



T ETTERS, 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 \'e proved a rover—- 
I 'm afraid a heartless rover — 
Quarters in a place like Dover 
Tend to make a man forget. 

Now I can accord precedence 

To my tailor, for I do 
Want to know if he gives credence- 
An unwarrantable credence — 

To my proffered I O U ! 


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, 
Now unquestioned take the pas. 

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 I 



A N 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 favorite 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 favorite pantomime 1" 

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. 



■ m 

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, 
Thej clap and crow like mad ! 


They only see iu 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, i 

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 '11 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. 


-^^ Was a man-eating African swell ; 
His sigt 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-Deh, 

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 had n'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, — ■ 


Is the queen of a neighboring state — 
A remarkably neighboring state. 


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 T 

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-wliite dye 

They endeavored 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-Beh-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 I most uncommonly green ! " 

Even blundering Doodle-Dum-Dey 
Was insensible quite to their leers. 
And said good little Tootle-Tum-Tey, 
'■'■ It 's your blood we desire, pretty dears — 
We have come for our dinners, my dears !" 

And the Queen of the Amazons fell 


In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell, 


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-Deh-Ah — 
Despairing Alack-a-Deh-Ah. 

And rollicking Tral-the-Ral-Lah 
Was eaten by Doodle-Dum-Dey, 

And musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah 
By good little Tootle-Tum-Tey — 
Exemplary Tootle-Tum-Tey ! 


T'VE often thought that headstrong youths, 
■^ Of decent education, 
Determine all- important truths 
With strange precipitation. 

The over-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 would 
Not like to be a winkle. 

'^ A winkle," I would oflb advance 
With readiness provoking, 

" Can seldom flirt, and never dance, 
Or sooth 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 seen her sunlight blithe 
As o'er their shells it dances, 

I 'ye seen those winkles almost writhe 
Beneath her beaming glances. 



Of slighting all the winklj 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 eat her winkles till they felt 
Exeeedingly uncomfy. 

166 THE '' BAB'' BALLADS. 

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 hoots are only silver, and 
His unde'rclothing 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 I 
" Well, really — come, I never ! 
Oh, go along, it 's too absurd ! 
My goodness ! Did you ever? 


" Two dukes would make their Bowles a bride. 

And from her foes defend her" — 
" Well, not exactly that/' they cried, 
" We offer guilty splendor. 

" We do not offer marriage rite, 
So please dismiss the notion V* 

" 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. G-eorge'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 1 
Go, Vice in ducal mansion ! 


To be Su7ig to the Air of " A71 'Orrihle Tale.** 

H list to this incredible tale 

Of Thomson Gtreen and Harriet Hale ; 
Its truth in one remark you '11 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 

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 Abbott'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 tliey both returned, and lo ! 
Astounding fact ! this happy pair 
Took a gentlemanly residence in Canonbury Square ! 

They led a wierd 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 '11 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 GtReen fell sick 
His wife consulted Doctor Crick, 
From whom some words like these would come— 
f\at mist, sumendum haustus, in a cocJilei/areum. 

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 G-reen 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 GtReen and Harriet Hale, 
Its truth in one remark you '11 sum — 
" Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum ! " 



DOB POLTEK 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 had n'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 goc d 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 vapor 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 want 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 have 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 TwEEDlE-ly V 

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 1" 

*' Be off/' said irritated Bob. 

*' Why come you here to bother one ? 
You Pharisaical old snob, 

You're wuss almost than t' other one 1 

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 V 


OTRIKE 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, ^ho 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. 
16 (181) 


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 thenseives the " Oiiaits." 

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 " 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 Illstfiied at the keyhole in tlie door! 



They played him a sonata — let me see ! 

*' Medulla oblongata '^ — key of Gr. 
Then they began to sing 
That extremely lovely thing, 

" ScJierzando ! ma nan 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 he, 
I 've a mystery I 'm going to reveal I 

Oh, listen, if you 'd shun a horrid death, 

To what the gent who 's speaking to you. saith : 

No ' Oiiaits' 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 the 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 w'th 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 ! 



^^ McCLAN 

Was the son of an elderly laboring 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 beastly 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 sucli detestable groans, 

With reed and with chaunter — with bag and with drones : 

All day and all night he delighted the chiels 

With sniggering pibrochs and jiggety reels. 

He 'd clamber a mountain and squat on the ground, 
And the neighboring maidens would gather around 
To list to his 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 is n'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 stripoE 
But he cannot assume an affection for pipes. 



Clonglocketty's pipings all night and all day 
Quite frenzied poor Pattison Corby Tore ay ; 
The girls were amused at his singular spleen, 
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen. 

" Macphaifson Clonglocketty Angus, my lad, 
With pibroehs 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, tbe blood of Macphairson McClan — 
The Clan of Clonglocketty rose as one man ; 
For all were enraged at the insult, I ween — > 
Especiall}^ 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, 

" '/» w»jr 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 '11 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, hecli 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 tl e 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 smilei 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. 


*- 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 this Crown 

The swelling murmurs grew — 
From Camberwell to Kentish Town- 

From Rotherhithe to Kew. 
Still humored 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, " II balen ' — 

The French, '^ No comprehend." 



The Russ would say, with gleaming eye, 

" Sevastopol !'^ and groan. 
The Greek said, " TuniT'co, 'CvTito^aij 

TrTttCO, 'tVTitiW^ TfVTttUV. 

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 ! 


Or, The Fatal Tum. 

r 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 Isabella Sherson, 
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 stranoers to each other. 

One day that Turk he sickened sore 

Which threw him straight into a sharp pet ; 

He threw himself upon the floor 
And rolled about upon his — carpet. 



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 hummed and hawed, and then inquired 

" Where is the pain that long has preyed 
Upon you in so sad a way, sir V 
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 turn," 

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 '11 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. 

Tht 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. 


n^HERE 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 
Extemporize islands near the beach, 
And then we '11 collar an island each. 

Three casks, from somebody else's stores, 
Shall rep-per-esent 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 superior 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 extror'nary thing ! 
On every island stands a king ! 

" Come, lower the Admiral's gig," he cried, 
" And over the dancing waves I '11 glide ; 
That low obeisance I may do 
To those three kings of Chickeraboo !" 


The admiral pulled to the islands three ; 
The kings saluted him gracious^ee. 
The admiral, pleased at his welcome warm, 
Pullei dut 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 all 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 ofi" 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 PirPE, 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 darkey kings. 
Oh, may we never, whatever we do, 
Declare a war with Chickeraboo ! 


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, 
/ 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 Golightlt 

Whene'er he sailed afar 
Upon a Channel cruise, he 

Unpacked his light guitar 

And sang this ballad (Boosey^. 



'Ql\i£ mooit 15 on tf)£ s£a, 

mniQhi 1 

®t^ boin& ilotos totoarli tt* Itt, 
mUlobi ! 
But ttou^t I st'st anil soi anir trj. 

No 3lali2 3an£ for mc, 

amilloto 1 

Sf)£ sajs, '"QCtotn £oIl2 quitt. 

jFor mc to b3£b a fa3tfl!)t 

Mtlloh) 1 
?^f)os£ lot iz xast before t|)£ mast ;" 

antJ possiils sfte 's rijatt, 

Smuiobj ! 

His skipper (Captain Joyce) 

He gave him many a rating, 
And almost lost his voice 

From thus expostulating : 

' Lay out, you lubber, do ! 

What 's come to that young man, Joe ? 
Belay ! — 'vast heaving ! you ! 

Do kindly stop that banjo \" 


" I wish, I do — oh, lor ! 

You 'd shipped aboard a trader 
Are you a sailor, or 
A negro serenader?" 

But still the stricken cad. 
Aloft or on his pillow. 

Howled forth in accents sad 
His aggravating " Willow V* 

Stern love of duty had 

Been Joyce's chiefest beauty- 
Says he, "I love that lad, 

]3ut duty, damme ! duty !" 



Twelve years blackhole, I say, 

Where daylight never flashes ; 
And always twice a day 

Five hundred thousand 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 '11 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 years' 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 a-board 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 V 

And for that dreadful crime 
(Young sailors learn to shun it) 

He 's working out his time : 

In ten years he ^11 have done it. 



13 OLL 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 i/ou mind ! 

Koll 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 'a true my prospects all look blue — 
But don't let that unsettle you ! 
Never i/oii mind ! 

Roll on ! 

\_It rolls on. 



TT 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. 

19 (217) 


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 

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 

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 g( ne and 



" 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 cheeky 
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 musn'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 

Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find : 
We musn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks — 
Let's see — five crimes at half-a-crown — exactly twelve-and- 


" Oh, father," little Alice cried, " your kindness makes me 
You do these little things for me so singularly cheap — 
Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget ; 
But, 0, 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 j 
He passes by it every day as certain as can be — 

I blush to say I 've wiuked at him and he has winked at mel " 

" For shame," said Father Paul, " my erring daughter ! On 
my word 
This is the most distressing news that I have ever hcaid. 
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 mj doors, 
I never knew so criminal a family as yours I " 


*' The common country folk in this insipid neighborhood 
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 Fatiiei'. 

The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown. 
And started oflf in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown ; 
To tell him how his daughter, who now was 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 Heutenant of his band. 


T'M old, my dears, and shrivell'd, with age, and work, and grief, 
My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, 
the thief! 
For terrible sights I've seen, and dangers great I've run — 
I'm nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done ! 

Ah ! I've been young in my time, and I've play'd the deuce with 

men — 
I'm speaking of ten years past — I was barely sixty then : 
My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes were large and 

Poll Pineapple's eyes were the standing toast of the Royal 


A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully served the ships 
With apples and cakes, and fowls and beer, and halfpenny dips, 
And beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine at nights, 
And fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollicking midshipmites. 

Of all the kind commanders who anchor'd in Portsmouth Bay, 

By far the sweetest of all was kind Lieutenant Belaye. 

Lieutenant Belaye commanded the gunboat Hot Cross Bun, 

She was seven-and-thirty feet in length, and she carried a gun. 



With the laudable view of enhancing his country's naval pride, 
When people inquired her size, Lieutenant Belaye replied, 
" Oh, my ship? my ship is the first of the Hundred and seventy- 
ones !" 
Which meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant her guns. 

Whenever I went on board he would beckon me down below : 
" Come down, Little Buttercup, come !" (for he loved to call 

me so). 
And he'd tell of the fights at sea in which he'd taken a part, 
And so Lieutenant Belaye won poor Poll Pineapple's heart! 

But at length his orders came, and he said one day, said he, 
" I'm ordered to sail with the Hot Cross Bun to the German 

And the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day, 
For every Portsmouth maid loved good Lieutenant Belaye. 

And I went to a back, back street, with plenty of cheap, cheap 

And I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops. 
And I went to Lieutenant Belaye (and he never suspected 

And I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea. 

We sail'd that afternoon at the mystic hour of one, — 
Remarkably nice young men were the crew of the Hot Cross Bun. 
I'm sorry to say that I've heard that sailors sometimes swear, 
But I never yet heard a Bun say anything wrong, I declare. 


When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a " Messmate, ho ! what 

cheer ?" 
But here on the Hot Cross Bun, it was " How do you do, my 

dear r 
When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl with a big, big D — ^ 
But the strongest oath of the Hot Cross Buns was a mild " Dear 


Yet, though they were all well-bred, you could hardly call them 

slick : 
Whenever a sea was on, they were all extremely sick ; 
And whenever the weather was calm, and the wind was light 

and fair. 
They spent more time than a sailor should on his back, back hair 

They certainly shiver'd and shook when order'd aloft to run, 
And they scream'd when Lieutenant Belaye discharged his 

only gun. 
And as he was proud of his gun — such pride is hardly wrong — 
The lieutenant was blazing away at intervals all day long. 

They all agreed very well, though at times you heard it said 
That Bill had a way of his own of making his lips look red — 
That Joe look'd quite his age — or somebody might declare 
That Barnacle's long pig-tail was never his own, own hair. 

Belaye would admit that his men were of no great use to him, 
" But then," he would say, " there is little to do on a gun-boat 

I can hand, and reef, and steer, and fire my big gun too — 
And it is such a treat to sail with a gentle, well-bred crew." 


I saw him every day ! How happy the moments sped ! 
Reef topsails ! Make all taut ! There's dirty weather ahead I 
(I do not mean that tempests threaten'd the Hot Cross Bun : 
In that case I don't know whatever we should have done !) 

After a fortnight's cruise, we put into port one day, 
And off on leave for a week went kind Lieutenant Belaye, 
And after a long, long week had pass'd (and it seem'd like a life) 
Lieutenant Belaye return'd to his ship with a fair young 

wife ! 

He up and he says, says he, " crew of the Hot Cross Bun, 
Here is the wife of my heart, for the church has made us one 
And as he utter'd the word, the crew went out of their wits, 
And all fell down in so many separate fainting fits. 

And then their hair came down, or off, as the case might be, 
And lo ! the rest of the crew were simple girls, like me, 
Who all had fled from their homes in a sailor's blue array. 
To follow the shifting fate of kind Lieutenant Belaye. 

It's strange to think /should ever have loved young men, 
But I'm speaking of ten years past — I was barely sixty then, 
And now my cheeks are furrow'd with grief and age, I trow ! 
And poor Poll Pineapple's eyes have lost their lustre now !