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7 


The  "Bab"  Ballads. 


Jtluth  ^ound  and  Jtitllc  ^tmt 


ill   rt     "^'^l 


"'I  ! 


-I—    ift 


BY 

W.    S.    GILBERT. 


fVITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BT    THE    AUTHOR 
FIFTH  EDITION,  REVISED. 

PORTER    &>    COATES, 
PHILADELPHIA. 


^  ^ 


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

CITY  OF  NEW  YOBK  ^\OJ1l'J 


PREFACE. 

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 

(vii) 


Vlll 


PREFACE, 


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. 


CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

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 

(ix) 


X  CONTENTS. 


PAOl 


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^ 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PAGE 

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 


THE  "BAB"  BALLADS, 


CAPTAIN    REECE 


OF  all  the  ships  upon  the  blue, 
No  ship  contained  a  bettet  crew 
Than  that  of  worthy  Captain  Reege, 
Commandiog  of  The  Mantelpiece. 


(13) 


14  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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. 


CAPTAIN  REECE.  15 

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,  "  0  Bill; 
It  is  my  duty,  and  I  will. 


16  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


"  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, 


CAPTAIN  REECE. 


17 


*'  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. 


THE   RIVAL   CURATES. 

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  !" 

(18) 


THE  RIVAL  CURATES.  19 


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. 


20 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


''  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.) 


THE  RIVAL  CURATES. 


2] 


"  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. 


22 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


"  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  ! ! ! " 


THE  RIVAL  CURATES.  23 

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:. 


ONLY  A   DANCING   GIRL. 


0 


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 


(24) 


ONLY  A  DAXCING  GIRL.  '25 

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  ; 


26  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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 


■^3^ 


GEN  ERAL    JOHN 


^HE  bravest  names  for  fire  and  flames, 

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

Of  the  Sixty-seventy-first. 

(27) 


28  THE  '' BAD"  BALLADS. 

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" 


GbJNKRAL  JOHN. 


29 


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. 


30  THE ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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." 


So  GrENERAL  JOHN  aS  PRIVATE  JaMES 

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


TO   A   LITTLE   MAID. 

By  a  Policeman. 

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  ! 

(31) 


J 


JOHN    AND    FREDDY. 

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. 


(32 


JOHN  AND  FREDDY 


3.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. 


34  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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. 


JOHN  AND  FREDDY. 


35 


*'  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. 


SIR  GUY  THE  CRUSADER. 


OIR  G-UY  was  a  doughty  crusader, 

A  muscular  knight, 

Ever  ready  to  fight, 
A  very  determined  invader, 

And  Dickey  de  Lion's  delight. 


(36) 


SIB  GUY  THE  CRUSADER.  37 

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. 
4 


38  THE  '^BAB^'  BALLADS. 

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 !" 


SIE  GUY  THE  CRUSADER. 


39 


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. 


HAUNTED. 

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. 

(40) 


HAUNTED.  41 

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. 


4 


* 


42  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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. 


THE  BISHOP  AND  THE  BUSMAN. 

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. 


(43) 


44 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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/' 


THE  BISHOP  AND  THE  BUSMAN.  45 

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. 


16 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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  BISHOP  AND  THE  BUSMAN. 


47 


The  organ  which,  in  man, 
Between  the  eyebrows  grows, 

Fell  from  his  face,  and  in  its  place, 
He  found  a  Christian  nose. 

His  tangled  Hebrew  beard, 

Which  to  his  waist  came  down. 

Was  now  a  pair  of  whiskers  fair — 
His  name,  Adolphus  Brown. 


He  wedded  in  a  year, 

That  prelate's  daughter  Jane  ; 
He  's  grown  quite  fair — has  auburn  hair — 

His  wife  is  far  from  plain. 


THE  TROUBADOUR. 


A 


TROUBADOUR  he  played 
Without  a  castle  wall, 
Within,  a  hapless  maid 
Responded  to  his  call. 


Oh,  willow,  woe  is  me ! 

Alack  and  well-a-day  I 
If  I  were  only  free 

I  'd  hie  me  far  away  !" 


(4t) 


THE  TROUBADOUR.  t9 

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* 


50 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


"  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. 


THE  TROUBADOUR. 


51 


"  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 ! " 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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. 


THE  TROUBADOUR.  53 

"  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. 


r«^^ 


FERDINANDO  AND  ELVIRA: 
Or  the  Gentle  Pieman. 


PART     I 


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


had  taken  down  to  supper 
will  call  Ely 

TUPPER. 


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 

motto. 
And  she  listened  while  I  read  them,  till  her  mother  told  her 

not  to. 

Then  she  whispered,  "  To  the  ball-room  we  had  better,  dear,  be 

walking ; 
If   we    stop    down    here   much    longer,   really  people  will    be 

talking." 

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

(54) 


FERDINAND 0  AND  ELVIRA,  55 

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

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

dressinsc. 


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


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

with  you  ?  ^ 

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

you?" 

But  spite  of  all  I  said,  her  sobs  grew  more  and  more  distressing, 
And  she  tore  her  pretty  back-hair,  which  had  taken  long  in 
dressing. 

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


me 


?'^ 


"  Love  you?"  said  I,  then  I  sighed,  and  then  I  gazed  upon  her 

sweetly — ■ 
For  I  think  I  do  this  sort  of  thing  particularly  neatly— 

"  Send  me  to  the  Arctic  regions,  or  illimitable  azure, 
On    a    scientific     goose-chase,    with    my    Cox  WELL     or    my 
Glaisher  ! 


56  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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 !" 


PART    II. 

"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 

her. 


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

us;" 
But  my   question    seemed    to    throw    them   both    into   a   rage 

enormous. 

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

me. 
And    Mister   Martin    Tupper   sent   the   following   reply  to 

me  : — - 


FERDINAND 0  AND  ELVIRA.  57 

"  A  fool  is  bent  upon  a  twig,  but  wise  men  dread  a  bandit," 
Which  I  know  was  very  clever ;  but  I  didn't  understand  it. 


Seven  weary  years  I  wandered — Patagonia,  China,  Norway, 
Till  at  last  I  sank  exhausted  at  a  pastrycook  his  doorway. 


There  were  fuchsias  and  geraniums,  and  daffodils  and  myrtle. 
So  I  entered,  and  I  ordered  half  a  basin  of  mock  turtle. 


He  was  plump  and  he  was  chubby,  he  was  smooth  and  he  was 

rosy, 
And  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 

jellies, 
Then  I  make  a  sugar  birdcage,  which  upon  a  table  swell  is ; 


58  THE ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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 ! 


W 


LORENZO  DE  LARDY. 


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


(59) 


60  THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 

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. 


LORENZO  DE  LARDY.  61 

He  'd  gaze  in  her  orbit  of  blue, 

Her  hand  he  would  tenderly  squeeze, 
But  the  words  of  her  tongue  that  he  knew 

Were  limited  strictly  to  these  : 

"  CORALINE  CeLESTINE  EuLALIE, 

Houp  la !  Je  vous  aime,  oui,  mossoo, 
Combien  donnez  moi  aujourd'hui 
Bonjour,  Mademoiselle,  parlez  voo." 

Mademoiselle  de  la  Sauce  Mayonnaise 

Was  a  witty  and  beautiful  miss, 
Extremely  correct  in  her  ways, 

But  her  English  consisted  of  this : — 

"  Oh  my  !   pretty  man,  if  you  please, 
Blom  boodin,  biftek,  currie  lamb, 
Bouldogue,  two  franc  half,  quite  ze  cheese, 
Rosbif,  me  spik  Angleesh  godam." 

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. 


62 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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. 


LORENZO  DE  LARDY.  63 

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. 


DISILLUSIONED. 


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 ! 


(64) 


DISILLUSIONED.  65 

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. 


66  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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 ! 


BABETTE'S    LOVE. 

"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. 


(67) 


68  THE  '^  BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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  !" 


BABETTE' S  LOVE.  69 

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. 


70 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


•'  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. 


B ABETTERS  LOVE.  71 


"  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. 


;^^4^. 


TO   MY    BRIDE. 
(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. 

(72) 


TO  MY  BRIDE.  73 

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. 
7 


T 


THE  FOLLY  OF  BROWN. 

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. 

(741 


THE  FOLLY  OF  BROWN.  75 

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 ! 


76 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


'•  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. 


THE  FOLLY  OF  BROWN.  77 

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. 


78 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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." 


THE  FOLLY  OF  BROWN.  79 

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. 


SIR    M  ACKLIN. 

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. 

(80) 


SIR  MACKLIN.  81 


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. 


82 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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" 


SIE  MACKLIN.  83 

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.) 


84 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


He  proved  them  this — he  proved  them  that— 
This  good  but  wearisome  ascetic ; 

He  jumped  and  thumped  upon  his  hat, 
He  was  so  very  energetic. 

His  Bishop  at  this  moment  chanced 

To  pass,  and  found  the  road  encumbered ; 

He  noticed  how  the  Churchman  danced, 
And  how  his  congregation  slumbered. 

The  hundred  and  eleventh  head 

The  priest  completed  of  his  stricture ; 

Oh,  bosh !"  the  worthy  Bishop  said, 
And  walked  him  off,  as  in  the  picture. 


THE  YARN  OF  THE  "NANCY  BELL."* 

'''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) 


86  THE ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

''  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. 


TBE  YARN  OF  TBE  '^  NANCY  BELL^  87 

"  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. 


88  TBE  ^^BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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. 


THE  YARN  OF  THE  ''  NANCY  BELL,"  89 

"  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.'" 


THE  BISHOP  OF  RUM-TI-FOO. 

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. 


(90) 


THE  BISHOP  OF  RUM-TI-FOO.  91 

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. 


92 


THE  ^^BAB"  BALLADS. 


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  OF  HUM- TIF 00.  93 

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, 


94 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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," 


THE  BISHOP  OF  RUM-TI-FOO.  95 

"  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  !" 


THE  PRECOCIOUS  BABY. 


A   VERY    TRUE   TALE. 
(  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. 


(96) 


THE  PRECOCIOUS  BABY.  97 

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 


98  THE  ^'BAB''  BALLADS. 

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  !  " 


THE  PRECOCIOUS  BABY. 


99 


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. 


100  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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  -' 


THE  PRECOCIOUS  BABY.  101 

MORAL. 

Now  elderly  men  of  the  bachelor  crew, 

With  wrinkled  hose 

And  spectacled  nose, 
Don't  marry  at  all — you  may  take  it  as  true 

If  ever  you  do 

The  step  you  will  rue, 
For  your  babes  will  be  elderly — elderly  too. 


TO    PHCEBE. 

^^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 ! 

(102) 


BAINES  CAREW,  GENTLEMAN. 


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. 


■103) 


104  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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. 


BAINES  CAREW,   GENTLEMAN. 


105 


<*  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. 


106  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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.'* 


BAINES  CAREW,  GENTLEMAN.  107 

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." 


108 


TEE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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. 


THOMAS  WINTERBOTTOM  HANCE. 

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) 


110 


TEE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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. 


THOMAS  WINTERBOTTOM  HANCE.  HI 

"  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. 


112  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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. 


THOMAS  WINTERS OTTOM  HANCE. 


113 


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.) 


114  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

Loud  sneered  the  doughty  man  of  France, 
"Ho!  ho!     Ho!  ho!     Ha!  ha!     Ha!  ha!" 
''  The  French  for  '  Pish  !'  "  said  Thomas  Hance. 

Said  Pierre,  "  L' Anglais,  Monsieur,  pour  '  Bah.'  " 

Said  Mrs.  H.,  "Come,  one!  two!  three! — 
We  're  sittin'  here  to  see  all  fair ; 
'  C'est  Magnifique  !"  said  Madame  P., 

"  Mais,  parbleu  !  ce  n'est  pas  la  guerre  !" 

"  Je  scorn  un  foe  si  lache  que  vous !" 

Said  Pierre,  the  doughty  son  of  France. 

"  I  fight  not  coward  foe,  like  you !" 

Said  our  undaunted  Tommy  Hance. 


*'  The  French  for  '  Pooh  ! '  "  our  Tommy  cried. 

"  L' Anglais  pour  '  Va'  "  the  Frenchman  crowed. 
And  so  with  undiminished  pride 
Each  went  on  his  respective  road. 


THE  REVEREND  MICAH  SOWLS. 

^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." 


(115) 


116 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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  REVEREND  MIC  All  SOWLS.  117 

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." 


118 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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." 


TBE  REVEREND  MICAH  SOWLS.  119 

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  DISCONTENTED  SUGAR  BROKER. 


A     GENTLEMAN  of  City  fame 
•^     Now  claims  your  kind  attention ; 
East  India  broking  was  his  game, 
His  name  I  shall  not  mention : 
No  one  of  finely  pointed  sense 
Would  violate  a  confidence, 
And  shall  /go 
And  do  it?     No! 
His  name  I  shall  not  mention. 


(120) 


A  DISCONTENTED  SUGAR  BROKER.  121 

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. 
11 


122  THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 

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. 


A  DISCONTENTED  SUGAR  BROKER.  128 


"  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 !  '^ 


124  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS, 

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." 


A  DlSCOISrTEJSrTED  SUGAR  BROKER.  125 

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. 


U 


126  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


MORAL. 


I  hate  to  preach — I  hate  to  prate — 

I  'm  no  fanatic  croaker, 
But  learn  contentment  from  the  fate 
Of  this  East  India  broker. 

He  'd  everything  a  man  of  taste 
Could  ever  want,  except  a  waist : 
And  discontent 
His  size  anent, 
And  bootless  perseverance  blind, 
Completely  wrecked  the  peace  of  mind 
Of  this  East  India  broker. 


THE  PANTOMIME  "SUPER"  TO  HIS 
MASK. 

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, 

(127] 


128  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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  ? 


THE  FORCE  OF  ARGUMENT. 

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. 


(129) 


130  THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 

■* 

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- 


THE  FORCE  OF  ARGUMENT. 


131 


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 ; 


132 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLAD i^. 


"  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, 


"If 


's  quite  indisputable,  for 
I  '11  prove  it  with  singular  ease, 
You  shall  have  it  in  '  Barbara  '  or 
'  Celarent' — whichever  you  please. 


THE  FORCE  OF  ARGUMENT.  133 

"  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. 
12 


134  THE  '-BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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. 


THE  GHOST,  THE  GALLANT,  THE 
GAEL,  AND  THE  GOBLIN. 


/'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. 


(135) 


136  THE  '^BAB''  BALLADS. 

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  GHOST,  THE  GALLANT,  &c. 


137 


"  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. 


12* 


138  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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  !' 


THE  GHOST,  THE  GALLANT,  &c. 


139 


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. 


140  THE  ^'BAB^'  BALLADS. 

For  days  that  ghost  declined  to  stir, 

A  foggy  shapeless  giant — 
For  weeks  that  splendid  officer 

Stared  back  again  defiant ! 
Just  as  the  Englishman  returned 

The  goblin's  vulgar  staring, 
Just  so  the  Scotchman  boldly  spurned 

The  ghost's  unmannered  scaring. 

For  several  years  the  ghostly  twain 

These  Britons  bold  have  haunted, 
But  all  their  efforts  are  in  vain, 

Their  victims  stand  undaunted. 
This  very  day  the  imp,  and  ghost, 

Whose  powers  the  imp  derided, 
Stand  each  at  his  allotted  post — 

The  bet  is  undecided. 


THE  PHANTOM  CURATE. 

A     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. 

(141) 


142  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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. 


THE  PHANTOM  CURATE.  143 

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. 


THE  SENSATION  CAPTAIN. 

"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." 


(144) 


THE  SENSATION  CAPTAIN  145 

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. 


146 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS, 


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  SENSATION  CAPTAIN.  147 

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  ! 


148  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"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  SENSATION  CAPTAIN.  149 

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. 


13 


TEMPORA   MUTANTUR 

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! 


(15U) 


TEMPORA  MUTANTUR.  151 

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  ! 


152  TBE  ^^BAB"  BALLADS. 

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 


AT    A    PANTOMIME 


BY    A    BILIOUS    ONE. 


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. 


(153) 


154  THE  '^BAB"  BALLADS. 

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. 


AT  A  PANTOMIME, 


155 


■     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 ! 


156  THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 

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. 


AT  A  PANTOMIME.  157 

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. 


KING  BORRIA  BUNGALEE  BOO- 


TZINO  BORRIA  BUNGALEE  BOO 
-^^     Was  a  man-eating  African  swell ; 
His  sigt  was  a  hullaballoo, 

His  whisper  a  horrible  yell— 

A  horrible,  horrible  yell  ! 


U58) 


KING  BORRIA  BUNG  ALEE  BOO.  159 

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  !*' 


160  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

And  he  answered,  "  Oh  Bungalee  Boo, 
For  a  moment  I  hope  you  will  wait, — ■ 

TiPPY-WlPPITY  TOL-THE-ROL-LOO 

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

u  TiPPY-WlPPITY  TOL-THE-ROL-LoO, 

She  would  pickle  deliciously  cold — 
And  her  four  pretty  Amazons,  too, 
Are  enticing,  and  not  very  old — 
Twenty-seven  is  not  very  old. 

"  There  is  neat  little  Titty-Fol-Leh, 

There  is  rollicking  Tral-the-Ral-Lah, 
There  is  jocular  Waggety-Weh, 

There  is  musical  Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah — 
There's  the  nightingale  Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah  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. 


KING  BORRIA  BUNGALEE  BOO.  161 

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). 


162  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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 

To  BORRIA  BUNGALEE  BoO, 

In  a  mouthful  he  gulped,  with  a  yell, 

TiPPY-WlPPITY  TOL-THE-ROL-LOO 

The  pretty  Queen  Tol-the-Rol-Loo. 

And  neat  little  Titty-Fol-Leh 
Was  eaten  by  Pish-Pooh-Bah, 

And  light-hearted  Waggety-Weh 
By  dismal  Alack-a-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  ! 


THE   PERIWINKLE   GIRL. 

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. 


(163) 


164  THE  '^BAB"  BALLADS. 

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. 


THE  PERIWINKLE  GIRL. 


165 


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? 


THE  PERIWINKLE  GIRL.  16? 

"  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. 


168 


THE  ^^BAB"  BALLADS. 


Her  views  of  earldoms  and  their  lot, 
All  underwent  expansion ', 

Come,  Virtue  in  an  earldom's  cot  1 
Go,  Vice  in  ducal  mansion ! 


THOMSON  GREEN  AND  HARRIET 
HALE. 

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


0 


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. 


(169) 


170  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

Oh,  Thomson  Green,  I  may  remark, 
Met  Harriet  Hale  in  Regent's  Park, 
Where  he,  in  a  casual  kind  of  way, 
Spoke  of  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  the  day. 


They  met  again,  and  strange,  though  true. 
He  courted  her  for  a  month  or  two. 
Then  to  her  pa  he  said,  says  he, 
"  Old  man,  I  love  your  daughter  and  your  daughter  worships 
me!" 


Their  names  were  regularly  banned, 
The  wedding  day  was  settled,  and, 
I've  ascertained  by  dint  of  search. 
They  were  married  on  the  quiet  at  St   Mary  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. 


THOMSON  GREEN  AND  HARRIET  HALE.         171 

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. 


172 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS, 


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. 


THOMSON  GREEN  AND  HARRIET  HALE.        173 

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 ! " 


id* 


BOB   POLTER. 


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. 


(174) 


BOB  BOLTER.  175 


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." 


176 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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." 


BOB  POLTER.  177 


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" 


178 


THE  ''  BAB  ''  BALLADS. 


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. 


BOB  BOLTER.  179 


*'  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  ? 


180  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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 


THE  STORY  OF  PRINCE  AGIB. 


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) 


182  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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! 


TEE  STORY  OF  PRINCE  AGIB. 


18(i 


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. 


184 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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  ! " 


THE  STORY  OF  PRINCE  AGIB.  185 

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 ! 


ELLEN  McJONES  ABERDEEN. 

jVyfACPHAIRSON  CLONGLOCKETTY  ANGUS 

^^     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 

(186) 


ELLEN  McJONES  ABERDEEN.  187 

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. 


188 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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." 


ELLEN  McJONES  ABERDEEN.  189 

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. 


190  THE  '^BAB"  BALLADS. 

"  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 :- 


ELLEN  McJONES  ABERDEEN. 


191 


"  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. 


PETER    THE    WAG 


pOLICEMAN  PETER  FORTH  I  drag 
*-       From  his  obscure  retreat : 
He  was  a  merry,  genial  wag, 

Who  loved  a  mad  conceit. 
If  he  were  asked  the  time  of  day 

By  country  bumpkins  green, 
He  not  unfrequently  would  say 

"  A  quarter  past  thirteen." 


(192) 


PETER  THE  WAG.  193 

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. 


194  THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 

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. 


PETER  THE  WAG. 


195 


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." 


196 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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. 


PETER  THE  WAG.  197 

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 ! 

17* 


BEN    ALLAH    ACHMET; 
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 ! 


(198) 


BEN  ALLAH  A  CHMET.  199 

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. 


200 


THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


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." 


BEN  ALLAH  ACHMET. 


201 


"  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. 


202  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

"  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. 


BEN  ALLAH  A  CHMET.  203 

**  There  are  two  Doctor  Browns  in  Hooe, 
He  's  short  and  stout — I'm  tall  and  wizen ; 
You've  been  and  run  the  wrong  one  through. 
That's  how  the  error  has  arisen." 


The  accident  was  thus  explained, 
Apologies  were  only  heard  now  : 
"  At  my  mistake  I  'm  really  pained, 
I  am,  indeed,  upon  my  word  now." 


*'  With  me,  sir,  you  shall  be  interred, 
A  Mausoleum  grand  awaits  me" — 

"  Oh,  pray  don 't  say  another  word, 

I'm  sure  that  more  than  compensates  me. 


"  But  p'r'aps,  kind  Turk,  you're  full  inside?  " 
"  There's  room,"  said  he,  "  for  any  number." 
And  so  they  laid  them  down  and  died. 

In  proud  Stamboul  they  sleep  their  slumber. 


THE  THREE  KINGS  OF  CHICKERABOO. 

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." 

(204) 


THE  THREE  KINGS  OF  CHICKERABOO.         205 

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. 
18 


206 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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  THREE  KINGS  OF  CHICKERABOO,         207 

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. 


208  THE  "  BAB  "  BALLADS. 

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 ! 


JOE    GOLIGHTLY; 

Or,  the  First  Lord's  Daughter. 

A     TAR,  but  poorly  prized, 
^^     Long,  shambling  and  unsightly, 
Thrashed,  bullied,  and  despised. 
Was  wretched  Joe  Golightly. 


(209) 


210  TEE  ^' BAB"  BALLADS. 

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^. 


JOE  OOLIGHTLV.  211 


liUlaJr 


'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  \" 


212  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 


"  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  !" 


JOE  GO  LIGHTLY. 


213 


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. 


214  THE  "BAB''  BALLADS. 

'^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. 


JOE  GO  LIGHTLY. 


215 


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. 


TO  THE  TERRESTRIAL  GLOBE 

BY    A    MISERABLE    WRETCH. 

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. 

(216) 


GENTLE  ALICE  BROWN. 


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) 


218  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

As  Alice  was  a-sitting  at  her  window-sill  one  day, 
A  beautiful  young  gentleman  he  chanced  to  pass  that  way; 
She  cast  her  eyes  upon  him,  and  he  looked  so  good  and  true, 
That  she  thought,  "  I  could  be  happy  with  a  gentleman  like 
you!" 


And  every  morning  passed  her  house  that  cream  of  gentlemen, 

She  knew  she  might  expect  him  at  a  quarter  unto  ten, 

A  sorter  in  the  Custom-house,  it  was  his  daily  road 

(The  Custom-house  was  fifteen  minutes'  walk  from  her  abode). 


But  Alice  was  a  pious  girl,  who  knew  it  wasn't  wise 
To  look  at  strange  young  sorters  with  expressive  purple  eyes ; 
So  she  sought  the  village  priest  to  whom  her  family  confessed, 
The  priest  by  whom  their  little  sins  were  carefully  assessed. 


''  Oh,  holy  father,"  Alice  said,  "  't  would  grieve  you,  would  it 

not? 
To  discover  that  I  was  a  most  disreputable  lot ! 
Of  all  unhappy  sinners  I  'm  the  most  unhappy  one  !" 
The   padre   said,    "  Whatever   have    you    been    and    g(  ne   and 

done?" 


GENTLE  ALICE  BROWN.  219 

"  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 

mind; 
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- 

six." 


"  Oh,  father,"    little  Alice  cried,  "  your  kindness  makes  me 
weep, 
You  do  these  little  things  for  me  so  singularly  cheap — 
Your  thoughtful  liberality  I  never  can  forget ; 
But,  0,  there  is  another  crime  I  haven't  mentioned  yet!" 


220 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


"  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 " 


GENTLE  ALICE  BROWA.  221 

*'  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'. 
Paul?" 


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. 
19* 


222 


THE  ''BAB"  BALLADS. 


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. 


THE  BUMBOAT  WOMAN'S  STORY. 

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 

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

Fleet. 

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. 

223 


224  THE  ''BAB''   BALLADS. 

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 

Sea." 
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 

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

me), 
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. 


THE  BUMBO  AT  WOMAN'S  STORY.  225 

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 

me!" 

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 

trim. 
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." 


226  THE  ''BAB''  BALLADS. 

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,  "  0  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 !