The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 101

I asked her to have me for weal or for woe, And she did not object in the least;-- I can't tell the date--but we married I know Just in time to have game at the feast.

We went to ----, it certainly was the sea-side; For the next, the most blessed of morns, I remember how fondly I gazed at my bride, Sitting down to a plateful of prawns.

O, never may memory lose sight of that year, But still hallow the time as it ought!

That season the "gra.s.s" was remarkably dear, And the peas at a guinea a quart.

So happy, like hours, all our days seemed to haste, A fond pair, such as poets have drawn, So united in heart--so congenial in taste-- We were both of us partial to brawn!

A long life I looked for of bliss with my bride, But then Death--I ne'er dreamt about that!

O, there's nothing is certain in life, as I cried When my turbot eloped with the cat!

My dearest took ill at the turn of the year, But the cause no physician could nab; But something, it seemed like consumption, I fear-- It was just after supping on crab.

In vain she was doctored, in vain she was dosed, Still her strength and her appet.i.te pined; She lost relish for what she had relished the most, Even salmon she deeply declined!

For months still I lingered in hope and in doubt, While her form it grew wasted and thin; But the last dying spark of existence went out.

As the oysters were just coming in!

She died, and she left me the saddest of men, To indulge in a widower's moan; Oh! I felt all the power of solitude then, As I ate my first "natives" alone!

But when I beheld Virtue's friends in their cloaks, And with sorrowful c.r.a.pe on their hats, O my grief poured a flood! and the out-of-door folks Were all crying--I think it was sprats!

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.

A PATHETIC BALLAD.

THOMAS HOOD.

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms; But a cannon-ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms!

Now, as they bore him off the field, Said he, "Let others shoot, For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot!"

The army-surgeons made him limbs: Said he, "they're only pegs: But there's as wooden members quite As represent my legs!"

Now, Ben he loved a pretty maid, Her name was Nelly Gray; So he went up to pay his devours, When he devoured his pay!

But when he called on Nelly Gray, She made him quite a scoff; And when she saw his wooden legs, Began to take them off!

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray Is this your love so warm?

The love that loves a scarlet coat Should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once For he was blithe and brave But I will never have a man With both legs in the grave!

"Before you had those timber toes, Your love I did allow, But then, you know, you stand upon Another footing now!"

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!

For all your jeering speeches, At duty's call I left my legs, In Badajos's BREACHES!"

"Why then," said she, "you've lost the feet Of legs in war's alarms, And now you can not wear your shoes Upon your feats of arms!"

"O, false and fickle Nelly Gray!

I know why you refuse:-- Though I've no feet--some other man Is standing in my shoes!

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face; But now, a long farewell!

For you will be my death;--alas You will not be my NELL!"

Now, when he went from Nelly Gray, His heart so heavy got, And life was such a burden grown, It made him take a knot!

So round his melancholy neck A rope he did entwine, And, for his second time in life, Enlisted in the Line.

One end he tied around a beam, And then removed his pegs, And, as his legs were off--of course, He soon was off his legs!

And there he hung, till he was dead As any nail in town-- For, though distress had cut him up, It could not cut him down!

A dozen men sat on his corpse, To find out why he died-- And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, With a STAKE in his inside!

NO!

THOMAS HOOD.

No sun--no moon!

No morn--no noon-- No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day-- No sky--no earthly view-- No distance looking blue-- No road--no street--no "t' other side the way"-- No end to any Row-- No indications where the Crescents go-- No top to any steeple-- No recognitions of familiar people-- No courtesies for showing 'em-- No knowing 'em!

To traveling at all--no locomotion, No inkling of the way--no notion-- No go--by land or ocean-- No mail--no post-- No news from any foreign coast-- No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility-- No company--no n.o.bility-- No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member-- No shade, no s.h.i.+ne, no b.u.t.terflies, no bees.

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds.

November!

JACOB OMNIUM'S HOSS A NEW PALLICE COURT CHANT.

W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY

One sees in Viteall Yard, Vere pleacemen do resort.

A wenerable hinst.i.tute, 'Tis called the Pallis Court A gent as got his i on it, I think will make some sport

The natur of this Court My hindignation riles: A few fat legal spiders Here set & spin their viles; To rob the town theyr privlege is, In a hayrea of twelve miles.

The Judge of this year Court Is a mellitary beak.

He knows no more of Lor Than praps he does of Greek, And prowides hisself a deputy Because he can not speak.

Four counsel in this Court-- Misnamed of Justice--sits; These lawyers owes their places to Their money, not their wits; And there's six attornies under them, As here their living gits.

These lawyers, six and four, Was a livin at their ease, A sendin of their writs abowt, And droring in the fees, When their erose a cirkimstance As is like to make a breeze.

It now is some monce since, A gent both good and trew Possest a ansum oss vith vich He didn know what to do: Peraps he did not like the oss, Perhaps he was a scru.

This gentleman his oss At Tattersall's did lodge; There came a wulgar oss-dealer, This gentleman's name did fodge, And took the oss from Tattersall's: Wasn that a artful dodge?