The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 104
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"That lady is as well As can expected be; And to your Grace she bid me tell This gracious message free.
"That offspring of our race, Whom yesterday you see, To show our honor for your Grace, Prince Arthur he shall be.
"That name it rhymes to fame; All Europe knows the sound; And I couldn't find a better name If you'd give me twenty pound.
"King Arthur had his knights That girt his table round, But you have won a hundred fights, Will match 'em, I'll be bound.
"You fought with Bonypart, And likewise Tippoo Saib; I name you then, with all my heart, The G.o.dsire of this babe."
That Prince his leave was took, His hinterview was done.
So let us give the good old Duke Good luck of his G.o.d-son,
And wish him years of joy In this our time of Schism, And hope he'll hear the royal boy His little catechism.
And my pooty little Prince That's come our arts to cheer, Let me my loyal powers ewince A welcomin of you ere.
And the Poit-Laureat's crownd, I think, in some respex, Egstremely shootable might be found For honest Pleaseman X.
THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUNDLING OF Sh.o.r.eDITCH.
W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
Come, all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail, It is all about a Doctor was traveling by the rail, By the Heastern Counties Railway (vich the shares don't desire), From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire.
A traveling from Bury this Doctor was employed With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd; And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchester, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed.
She entered into the carriage all with a tottering step, And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep; The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty, Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty.
She had a fust-cla.s.s ticket, this lovely lady said, Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead.
Better to travel by secknd cla.s.s than sit alone in the fust, And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust.
A seein of her cryin, and s.h.i.+verin and pail, To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail; Saysee you look unwell, ma'am, I'll elp you if I can, And you may tell your case to me, for I'm a meddicle man.
"Thank you, sir," the lady said, "I only look so pale, Because I ain't accustom'd to traveling on the rale; I shall be better presnly, when I've ad some rest:"
And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast.
So in conwersation the journey they beguiled, Capting Loyd and the medical man, and the lady and the child, Till the warious stations along the line was pa.s.sed, For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last.
When at Sh.o.r.editeh tumminus at lenth stopped the train, This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again.
"Thank you, sir," the lady said, "for your kyindness dear; My carridge and my osses is probbibly come here.
"Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see?"
The Doctor was a famly man: "That I will," says he.
Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently, Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently.
With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it, Then she gave the Doctor the child--wery kind he nust it; Hup then the lady jumped hoff the bench she sat from, Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform.
Vile hall the other pa.s.sengers vent upon their vays, The Capting and the Doctor sat there in a maze; Some vent in a Homminibus, some vent in a Cabby, The Capting and the Doctor vaited with the babby.
There they sat looking queer, for an hour or more, But their feller pa.s.singer neather on 'em sore: Never, never back again did that lady come To that pooty sleeping Hinfant a suckin of his Thum!
What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus, When the darling baby woke, cryin for its nuss?
Off he drove to a female friend, vich she was both kind and mild, And igsplained to her the circ.u.mstance of this year little child.
That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap, And made it very comforable by giving it some pap; And when she took its close off, what d'you think she found?
A couple of ten pun notes sown up, in its little gownd!
Also, in its little close, was a note which did conwey, That this little baby's parents lived in a handsome way: And for its Headucation they reglary would pay, And sirtingly like gentle-folks would claim the child one day, If the Christian people who'd charge of it would say, Per adwertis.e.m.e.nt in the TIMES, where the baby lay.
Pity of this baby many people took, It had such pooty ways and such a pooty look; And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see Any kind lady as would do as much for me,
And I wish with all my art, some night in MY night gownd, I could find a note st.i.tched for ten or twenty pound)-- There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say, She'd adopt this little baby, which her parents cast away.
While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair, Comes a letter from Devons.h.i.+re, from a party there, Hordering the Doctor, at its Mar's desire, To send the little infant back to Devons.h.i.+re.
Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddicle man, Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran; Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honorable beak, That takes his seat in Wors.h.i.+p-street four times a week.
"O Justice!" says the Doctor, "Instrugt me what to do, I've come up from the country, to throw myself on you; My patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills, (There they are in Suffolk without their draffts and pills!)
"I've come up from the country, to know how I'll dispose Of this pore little baby, and the twenty-pun note, and the clothes, And I want to go back to Suffolk, dear Justice, if you please, And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his feez."
Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at his desk, "This year application does me much perplesk; What I do adwise you, is to leave this babby In the Parish where it was left, by its mother shabby."
The Doctor from his Wors.h.i.+p sadly did depart-- He might have left the baby, but he hadn't got the heart To go for to leave that Hinnocent, has the laws allows, To the tender mussies of the Union House.
Mother who left this little one on a stranger's knee, Think how cruel you have been, and how good was he!
Think, if you've been guilty, innocent was she; And do not take unkindly this little word of me: Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be!
PLEACEMAN X.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE.
W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
With ganial foire Thransfuse me loyre, Ye sacred nymphths of Pindus, The whoile I sing That wondthrous thing The Palace made o' windows!
Say, Paxton, truth, Thou wondthrous youth, What sthroke of art celistial What power was lint You to invint This combineetion cristial
O would before That Thomas Moore Likewoise the late Lord Boyron, Thim aigles sthrong Of G.o.dlike song, Cast oi on that cast oiron!
And saw thim walls, And glittering halls, Thim rising slendther columns, Which I, poor pote, Could not denote, No, not in twinty vollums.
My Muse's words Is like the birds That roosts beneath the panes there; Her wings she spoils 'Gainst them bright toiles, And cracks her silly brains there.
The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 104
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