PR 
 
 HI 
 11 
 
Collection of " Masterpieces " 
 
 W. S. GILBERT 
 
 Fifty "Bab" Ballads 
 
 MUCH SOUND AND LITTLE SENSE 
 
 With numerous original illustrations by 
 
 MOORE SMITH 
 
 IRew l£orfe 
 
 Frederick A. Stokes Company 
 publishers 
 
SEP 
 
 ^/9- 
 
 41288 
 
 Copyright, 1899, <5j/ 
 Frederick A . Stokes Company 
 
 |_Aaj<-£\ 
 
 1 
 SECOND OOPY, 
 
€ following is mifibing from this volume 
 
 ItHNL 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The " Bab Ballads" appeared originally in ■ 
 the columns of Fun, when that periodical was 
 under the editorship of the late Tom Hood. 
 They were subsequently republished in two 
 volumes, one called "The Bab Ballads," the 
 other "More Bab Ballads." The period 
 during- which they were written extended over 
 some three or four years ; many, however, 
 were composed hastily, and under the discom- 
 forting necessity of having to turn out a quan- 
 tity of lively verse by a certain day in every 
 week. As it seemed to me (and to others) that 
 the volumes were disfigured by the presence of 
 these hastily written impostors, I thought it 
 better to withdraw from both volumes such 
 Ballads as seemed to show evidence of care- 
 lessness or undue haste, and to publish the re- 
 mainder in the compact form under which they 
 are now presented to the reader. 
 
 It may interest some to know that the first of 
 the series, "The Yarn of the Nancy Bell,' 1 ' 1 was 
 originally offered to Punch, — to which I was, 
 at that time, an occasional contributor. It was, 
 however, declined by the then Editor, on the 
 ground that it was " too cannibalistic for his 
 reader's tastes. 1 ' t V*?«*» m % **$ 
 
 W. S. GILBERT. 
 
A^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 HE GENTLE 
 
 ■aptain reece 
 /the rival curates 
 <Tnly a dancing girl . 
 
 vTO A LITTLE MAID 
 ^fHE TROUBADOUR . 
 •f'ERDINANDO AND ELVIRA ; OR THE 
 
 PIEMAN . 
 0\O MY BRIDE . 
 MACKLIN . 
 /fHE YARN OF THE ' NANCY BELL ' 
 •THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO . 
 ^>HE PRECOCIOUS BABY . 
 i?6 PHCEBE. 
 
 .-Baines GAREW, GENTLEMAN. 
 ^THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM HANCE 
 I^A^DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKER . 
 
 THE PANTOMIME ' SUPER ' TO HIS MASK 
 "THE GHOST, THE GALLANT, THE GAEL, 
 
 AND THE GOBLIN . . . . . 
 
 KTHE PHANTOM CURATE . 
 "KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO ' 
 V^OB POLTER .... 
 ^THE STORY OF PRINCE AGIB . 
 V^ELLEN M'jONES ABERDEEN . 
 ^PETER THE WAG 
 .TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOEE 
 
 36 
 
 39 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " l/^ENTLE ALICE BROWN 82 
 
 MISTER WILLIAM 86 
 
 THE BUMBOAT WOMAN'S STORY ... 94 
 
 LOST MR. BLAKE IOO 
 
 THE BABY'S VENGEANCE .... 107 
 
 THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS . . 112 
 ANNIE PROTHEROE. A LEGEND OF STRAT- 
 
 FORD-LE-BOW Il6 
 
 AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS .... 123 
 
 THE KING OF CANOODLE-DUM . . . 127 
 
 THE MARTINET I33 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS . . . 136 
 
 THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS . . . 140 
 
 MY DREAM I44 
 
 THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN . . 147 
 
 THE HAUGHTY ACTOR 151 
 
 THE TWO MAJORS 155 
 
 EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I. A DERBY 
 
 LEGEND I 5§ 
 
 THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITY. . . . 162 
 
 THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE 165 
 
 PHRENOLOGY 17° 
 
 THE FAIRY CURATE 173 
 
 THE WAY OF WOOING 178 
 
 HONGREE AND MAHRY. A RECOLLECTION 
 
 OF A SURREY MELODRAMA . . . 180 
 
 ETIQUETTE • I§5 
 
 1<AT A PANTOMIME 192 
 
 ^•ffAUNTED 194 
 
THE <BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 CAPTAIN REECE. 
 
 OF all the ships upon the blue, 
 No ship contained a better crew 
 Than that of worthy Captain Reece, 
 • Commanding of The Mantelpiece. 
 
 He was adored by all his men, 
 For worthy Captain Reece, R. N., 
 Did all that lay within him to 
 Promote the comfort of his crew. 
 
 If ever they were dull or sad, 
 Their captain danced to them like mad. 
 Or told, to make the time pass by, 
 Droll legends of his infancy. 
 
 A feather bed had every man, 
 Warm slippers and hot water can, 
 Brown Windsor from the captain's store 
 A valet, too, to every four. 
 
 Did they with thirst in summer burn, 
 Lo, seltzogenes at every turn, 
 And on all very sultry days 
 Cream ices handed round on trays. 
 
3AB* ] 
 
 ALL ADS. 
 
 Then currant wine and ginger pops 
 Stood handily on all the "tops " ; 
 And also, with amusement rife, 
 A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life." 
 
 " CREAM ICES HANDED ROUND ON TRAYS. 1 
 
 New volumes came across the sea 
 From Mister Mudie's libraree ; 
 The Times and Saturday Review 
 Beg- iled the leisure of the crew. 
 
THE RIVAL CURATES. 
 
 P Well, well, the chaplain I will seek, 
 We'll all be married this day week 
 At yonder church upon the hill ; 
 It is my duty, and I will ! " 
 
 The sisters, cousins, aunts and niece, 
 And widowed Ma of Captain Reece, 
 Attended there as they were bid ; 
 It was their duty, and they did. 
 
 THE RIVAL CURATES. 
 
 List while the poet trolls 
 Of Mr. Clayton Hooper, 
 
 Who had a cure of souls 
 At Spiffton-extra-Sooper. 
 
 He lived on curds and whey, 
 And daily sang their praises, 
 
 And then he'd go and play 
 With buttercups and daisies. 
 
 Wild croquet Hooper banned, 
 And all the sports of Mammon, 
 
 He warred with cribbage, and 
 He exorcised backgammon. 
 
 His helmet was a glance 
 That spoke of holy gladness ; 
 
 A saintly smile his lance ; 
 His shield a tear of sadness. 
 
His vicar smiled to see 
 This armour on him buckled : 
 
 With pardonable glee 
 He blessed himself and chuckled. 
 
 " In mildness to abound 
 My curate's sole design is ; 
 
 In all the country round 
 There's none so mild as mine is ! " 
 
 And Hooper, disinclined 
 His trumpet to be blowing, 
 
 Yet didn't think you'd find 
 A milder curate going. 
 
 A friend arrived one day 
 
 At Spiffton-extra-Sooper, 
 And in this shameful way 
 
 He spoke to Mr. Hooper : 
 
 " You think your famous name 
 For mildness can't be shaken, 
 
 That none can blot your fame — 
 But, Hooper, you're mistaken ! 
 
 " Your mind is not as blank 
 As that of Hoplev Porter, 
 
 Who holds a curate's rank 
 At Assesmilk-cum-Worter. 
 
 " He plays the airy flute, 
 
 And looks depressed and blighted, 
 Doves round about him l toot,' 
 
 And lambkins dance delighted. 
 

 'LAMBKINS DANCE DELIGHTED. 
 
THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 " He labours more than you 
 At worsted work, and frames it ; 
 
 In old maids' albums, too, 
 Sticks seaweed— yes, and names it ! '' 
 
 The tempter said his say, 
 
 Which pierced him like a needle — 
 He summoned straight away 
 
 His sexton and his beadle. 
 
 (These men were men who could 
 
 Hold liberal opinions ! 
 On Sundays they were good — 
 
 On week-days they were minions.) 
 
 " To Hopley Porter go, 
 Your fare I will afford you — 
 
 Deal him a deadly blow, 
 And blessings shall reward you. 
 
 " But stay— I do not like 
 
 Undue assassination, 
 And so before you strike, 
 
 Make this communication : 
 
 " I'll give him this one chance — • 
 If he'll more gaily bear him, 
 
 Play croquet, smoke, and dance, 
 I willingly will spare him." 
 
 They went, those minions true, 
 
 To Assesmilk-cum-Worter, 
 And told their errand to 
 
 The Reverend Hopley Porter. 
 
ONLY ADANCINGGIEL. Q 
 
 " What ? " said that reverend gent, 
 " Dance through my hours of leisure ? 
 
 Smoke ? — bathe myself with scent? — 
 Play croquet ? Oh, with pleasure ! 
 
 " Wear all my hair in curl ? 
 
 Stand at my door and wink— so— 
 At every passing girl ? 
 
 My brothers, I should think so ! 
 
 " For years I've longed for some 
 
 Excuse for this revulsion : 
 Now that excuse has come— 
 
 I do it on compulsion ! ! ! " 
 
 He smoked and winked away — 
 This Reverend Hopley Porter. 
 
 The deuce there was to pay 
 At Assesmilk-cum-Worter. 
 
 And Hooper holds his ground, 
 
 In mildness daily growing — 
 They think him, all around, 
 
 The mildest curate going. 
 
 ONLY A DANCING GIRL. 
 
 Only a dancing girl, 
 With an unromantic style, 
 
 With borrowed colour and curl, 
 With fixed mechanical smile, 
 With many a hackneyed wile, 
 
THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 With ungrammatical lips, 
 And corns that mar her trips. 
 
 Hung from the " flies " in air, 
 
 She acts a palpable lie, 
 She's as little a fairy there 
 
 As unpoetical I ! 
 
 I hear you asking, Why — 
 Why in the world I sing 
 This tawdry, tinselled thing? 
 
 No airy fairy she, 
 As she hangs in arsenic green 
 
 From a highly impossible tree 
 In a highly impossible scene 
 (Herself not over-clean). 
 
 For fays don't suffer, I'm told, 
 
 From bunions, coughs, or cold. 
 
 And stately dames that bring 
 Their daughters there to see, 
 
 Pronounce the " dancing thing " 
 No better than she should be, 
 With her skirt at shameful knee, 
 
 And her painted, tainted phiz : 
 
 Ah, matron, which of us is ? 
 
 (And, in sooth, it oft occurs 
 That while these matrons sigh, 
 
 Their dresses are lower than hers, 
 And sometimes half as high ; 
 And their hair is hair they buy, 
 
 And they use their glasses, too, 
 
 In a way she'd blush to do.) 
 
1 ONLY A DANCING GIRL. 
 
THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 But change her gold and green 
 For a coarse merino gown, 
 
 And see her upon the scene 
 Of her home, when coaxing down 
 Her drunken father's frown, 
 
 In his squalid cheerless den : 
 
 She's a fairy truly, then ! 
 
 TO A LITTLE MAID. 
 
 BY A POLICEMAN. 
 
 Come with me, little maid, 
 Nay, shrink not, thus afraid— 
 
 I'll harm thee not ! 
 Fly not, my love, from me — 
 I have a home for thee— • 
 A fairy grot, 
 
 Where mortal eye 
 Can rarely pry, 
 There shall thy dwelling be ! 
 
 List to me, while I tell 
 The pleasures of that cell, 
 
 Oh, little maid ! 
 What though its couch be rude, 
 Homely the only food 
 Within its shade? 
 
 No thought of care 
 Can enter there, 
 No vulgar swain intrude ! 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 THE TROUBADOUR. 
 
 A troubadour he played 
 Without a castle wall, 
 
 Within, a hapless maid 
 Responded to his call. 
 
 M Oh, willow, woe is me ! 
 
 Alack and well-a-day ! 
 If I were only free 
 
 I'd hie me far away ! " 
 
 Unknown her face and name, 
 But this he knew right well. 
 The maiden's wailing came 
 From out a dungeon cell. 
 
 A hapless woman lay 
 
 Within that dungeon grim — 
 That fact, I've heard him say, 
 
 Was quite enough for him. 
 
THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 " 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 
 
 " 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,' 1 he said. 
 
 He stayed to hear no more, 
 But pushed that porter by, 
 
 And- shortly stood before 
 Sir Hugh de Peckham Rye. 
 
THE TROUBADOUR. 
 
 Sir Hugh he darkly frowned, 
 " What would you, sir, with me ? ' 
 
 The troubadour he downed 
 Upon his bended knee. 
 
 " I've come, De Peckham Rye, 
 
 To do a Christian task ; 
 You ask me what would I ? 
 
 It is not much I ask. 
 
 " Release these maidens, sir, 
 Whom you dominion o'er— 
 
 Particularly her 
 
 Upon the second floor. 
 
 " And if you don't, my lord " — 
 He here stood bolt upright, 
 
 And tapped a tailor's sword — 
 " Come out, you cad, and fight ! "' 
 
 Sir Hugh he called— and ran 
 The warden from the gate : 
 
 " Go, show this gentleman 
 The maid in Forty-eight," 
 
 By many a cell they past, 
 And stopped at length before 
 
 A portal, bolted fast : 
 The man unlocked the door. 
 
 He called inside the gate 
 With coarse and brutal shout,, 
 
 " Come, step it, Forty-eight ! " 
 And Forty-eight stepped out. 
 
" They gets it pretty hot, 
 The maidens what we cotch- 
 
 Two years this lady's got 
 For collaring a wotch." 
 
 " Oh, ah ! — indeed— I see," 
 The troubadour exclaimed — 
 
 " If I may make so free, 
 How is this castle named ? " 
 
 The warden's eyelids fill, 
 And sighing, he replied, 
 
 " Of gloomy Pentonville 
 This is the female side ! " 
 
 The minstrel did not wait 
 The warden stout to thank. 
 
 But recollected straight 
 He'd business at the Bank. 
 
 FERDINANDO AND ELVIRA ; 
 
 OR, THE GENTLE PIEMAN. 
 PART I. 
 
 At a pleasant evening party I had taken down 
 
 to supper 
 One whom I will call Elvira, and we talked 
 
 of love and Tupper. 
 Mr. Tupper and the Poets, very lightly with 
 
 them dealing. 
 For I've always been distinguished for a strong 
 
 poetic feeling-. 
 
FERDI N AND O AND E L V IR A. 17 
 
 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 peo- 
 ple will be talking. 1 ' 
 
 There were noblemen in coronets, and military 
 
 cousins, 
 There were captains by the hundred, there 
 
 were baronets by dozens. 
 
 Yet she heeded not their offers, but dismissed 
 
 them with a blessing, 
 Then she let down all her back hair, which 
 
 had taken long in dressing. 
 
 Then she had convulsive sobbings in her 
 
 agitated throttle, 
 Then she wiped her pretty eyes and smelt her 
 
 pretty smelling-bottle. 
 
 So I whispered, " Dear Elvira, say,— what 
 
 can the matter be with you ? 
 Does anything you've eaten, darling Popsy, 
 
 disagree with you ? " 
 
 But spite of all I said, her sobs grew more and 
 
 more distressing, 
 And she tore her pretty back hair, which had 
 
 taken long in dressing. 
 
18 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 Then she gazed upon the carpet, at the ceiling, 
 
 then above me, 
 And she whispered, " Ferdinando, do you 
 
 really, really love me?" 
 
 " Love you? " said I, then I sighed, and then 
 
 I gazed upon her sweetly— 
 For I think I do this sort of thing particularly 
 
 neatly. 
 
 "Send me to the Arctic regions, or illimitable 
 
 azure, 
 On a scientific goose-chase, with my Coxwell 
 
 or my Glaisher ! 
 
 " Tell me whither I may hie me — tell me, dear 
 
 one, that I may know — 
 Is it up the highest Andes? down a horrible 
 
 volcano? !1 
 
 But she said, " It isn't polar bears, or hot vol- 
 canic grottoes : 
 
 Only find out who it is that writes those lovely 
 cracker mottoes ! " 
 
 " Tell me, Henry Wadsworth, Alfred, Poet 
 
 Close, or Mister Tupper, 
 Do you write the bon-bon mottoes my Elvira 
 
 pulls at supper? " 
 
 But Henry Wadsworth smiled, and said he 
 had not had that honour ; 
 

 0*i 
 
 
 k : mw m^ jb v 
 
 
 d^ 
 
 
 /*m ; "- 
 
 
 i ^fe?* .f/ 
 
 
 ^||/ 
 
 
 ■* \ 
 
 m i 
 
 
 ' A 
 
 
 Vf 
 
 ' j 
 
 ~-~^-~ 
 
 ~''\ 
 
 
 ** love you ? " said i. 
 
20 THE BAB BALLADS, 
 
 
 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 follow- 
 ing reply to me : 
 
 " A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men 
 
 dread a bandit," — 
 Which I know was very clever ; but I didn't 
 
 understand it. 
 
 Seven weary years I wandered— Patagonia, 
 
 China, Norway, 
 Till at last I sank exhausted at a pastrycook 
 
 his doorway. 
 
 There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daf- 
 fodils and myrtle, 
 
 So I entered, and I ordered half a basin of 
 mock turtle. 
 
 He was plump and he was chubby, he was 
 
 smooth and he was rosy, 
 And his little wife was pretty and particularly 
 
 cosy. 
 
FERDINANDO AND ELVIKA. 21 
 
 And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, 
 and laughed with laughter hearty — 
 
 He was wonderfully active for so very stout a 
 party. 
 
 And I said, "O gentle pieman, why so very, 
 
 very merry ? 
 Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and- 
 
 seven sherry? " 
 
 But he answered, " I'm so happy — no pro- 
 fession could be dearer — 
 
 If I am not humming ' Tra ! la! la ! ' I'm sing- 
 ing l Tirer, lirer ! ' 
 
 " First I go and make the patties, and the pud- 
 dings, and the jellies, 
 
 Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a 
 table swell is ; 
 
 "Then I polish all the silver, which a supper- 
 table lacquers ; 
 
 Then I write the pretty mottoes which you 
 find inside the crackers."— 
 
 "Found at last ! " I madly shouted. " Gentle 
 
 pieman, you astound me ! " 
 Then I waved the turtle soup enthusiastically 
 
 round me. 
 
 And I shouted and I danced until he'd quite a 
 
 crowd around him — 
 And I rushed away exclaiming, " I have found 
 
 him ! I have found him ! " 
 
And I heard the gentle pieman in the road be- 
 hind 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 Ferdinando 1 s irrevocably 
 
 mated ! 
 
 TO MY BRIDE. 
 
 (whoever she may be.; 
 
 Oh ! little maid !— (I do not know your name 
 
 Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution 
 I'll add)— Oh, buxom widow ! married dame ! 
 (As one of these must be your present por- 
 tion) 
 Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for 
 
 you, 
 And sing the fate that Fortune has in 
 store for you. 
 
 You'll marry soon— within a year or twain— 
 
 A bachelor of circa two and thirty : 
 Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain, 
 
 And when you're intimate, you'll call him 
 " Bertie. " 
 Neat — dresses well ; his temper has been 
 
 classified 
 As hasty ; but he's very quickly pacified. 
 
TO MY BRIDE. 23 
 
 You'll find him working mildly at the Bar, 
 
 After a touch at two or three professions, 
 From easy affluence extremely far, 
 A brief or two on Circuit — "soup" at Ses- 
 sions ; 
 A pound or two from whist and backing- 
 horses, 
 And, say three hundred from his own 
 resources. 
 
 Quiet in harness ; free from serious vice, 
 
 His faults are not particularly shady, 
 You'll never find him " shy " — for, once or 
 twice 
 Already, he's been driven by a lady, 
 
 Who parts with him — perhaps a poor ex- 
 cuse 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 ? 
 
24 THE 'BAB BALLADS. 
 
 If so, I want to hear her income stated 
 
 (This is a point which interests me 
 
 greatly). 
 To quote the bard, " Oh ! have I seen 
 her lately ? " 
 
 Say, must I wait till husband number one 
 Is comfortably s f o\ved away at Woking ? 
 How is her hair mo X usually done ? 
 And tell me, please, will she object to smok- 
 ing? 
 The colour of her eyes, too, you may 
 
 mention ; 
 Come Sibyl, prophesy— I'm all attention. 
 
 SIR MACKLIN. 
 
 Of all the youths I ever saw 
 None were so wicked, vain, or silly, 
 
 So lost to shame and Sabbath law, 
 As worldly Tom, and Bob, and Billy. 
 
 For every Sabbath day they walked 
 (Such was their gay and thoughtless 
 natur) 
 
 In parks or gardens, where they talked 
 From three to six or even later. 
 
 Sir Macklix was a priest severe 
 In conduct and in conversation, 
 
 It did a sinner good to hear 
 Him deal in ratiocination. 
 
He could in every action show 
 
 Some sin, and nobody could doubt him. 
 He argued high, he argued low, 
 
 He also argued round about him. 
 
 He wept to think each thoughtless youth 
 Contained of wickedness a skinful, 
 
 And burnt to teach the awful truth, 
 That walking out on Sunday's sinful. 
 
 " Oh, youths," said he, " I grieve to find 
 The course of life you've been and hit 
 on — 
 
 Sit down," said he, " and never mind 
 The pennies for the chairs you sit on. 
 
 "My opening head is ' Kensington,' 
 How walking there the sinner hardens, 
 
 Which when I have enlarged upon, 
 I go to ' Secondly ' — ' its Gardens.' 
 
 "My 'Thirdly' comprehendelh '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 solemivtether, 
 
 And show that what is true of each, 
 Is also true of all, together. 
 
 " Then I shall demonstrate to you, 
 According to the rules of Whately, 
 
That what is true of all, is true 
 Of each, considered separately." 
 
 In lavish stream his accents flow, 
 Tom, Bob, and Billy dare not flout him ; 
 
 He argued high, he argued low. 
 He also argued round about him. 
 
 "■ Ha, ha ! " he said, " you loath your ways, 
 You writhe at these my words of warn- 
 ing, 
 
 In agony your hands you raise." 
 (And so they did, for they were yawning.) 
 
 To u Twenty-firstly ,1 on they go, 
 The lads do not attempt to scout him ; 
 
 He argued high, he argued low, 
 He also argued round about him. 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " he cries, " you bow your 
 crests — 
 
 My eloquence has set you weeping ; 
 In shame you bend upon your breasts ! " 
 
 (And so they did, for they were sleeping.) 
 
 lie 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 encum- 
 bered ; 
 
SIR MACKLI 
 
 He noticed how the Churchman danced, 
 And how his congregation slumbered. 
 
 WALKED HIM OFF AS IN THE PICTURE.' 
 
 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. 
 
28 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL.'* 
 
 'Twas on the shores that round our coast 
 
 From Deal to Ramsgate span, 
 That I found alone on a piece of stone 
 
 An elderly naval man. 
 
 His hair was weedy, his beard was long, 
 
 And weedy and long was he, 
 And I heard this wight on the shore recite, 
 
 la 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.' 1 
 
 And he shook his fists and he tore his hair, 
 
 Till I really felt afraid, 
 For I couldn't help thinking the man had.been 
 drinking, 
 
 And so I simply said : 
 
 "Oh, elderly man, it's little I know 
 
 Of the duties of men of the sea, 
 And I'll eat my hand if I understand 
 
 However you can be 
 
 " At once a cook, and a captain bold, 
 
 And the mate of the Nancy brig, 
 And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, 
 
 And the crew of the captain's gig." 
 
 * A version of this ballad is published as a 
 song, by Mr. Jeffreys, Soho Square. 
 
ALONE ON A PIECE OF STONE, AN ELDERLY 
 NAVAL MAN." 
 
3<3 THE* BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which 
 
 Is a trick all seamen larn, 
 And having got rid of a thumping quid, 
 
 He spun this painful yarn : 
 
 " 'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell 
 
 That we sailed to the Indian Sea, 
 And there on a reef we come to grief, 
 
 Which has often occurred to me. 
 
 " And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned 
 (There was seventy-seven o'soul), 
 
 And only ten of the Nancy s men 
 Said ' Here !' to the muster-roll. 
 
 " There was me and the cook and the captain 
 bold, 
 
 And the mate of the Nancy brig, 
 And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, 
 
 And the crew of the captain's gig. 
 
 " For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink. 
 
 Till a-hungry we did feel, 
 So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot 
 
 The captain for our meal. 
 
 " The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, 
 
 And a delicate dish he made ; 
 Then our appetite with the midshipmite 
 
 We seven survivors stayed. 
 
 " And then we murdered the bo'sun tight. 
 And he much resembled pig ; 
 
THE VAKN OK THE NANCY BELL. 31 
 
 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 T 
 
 And the cook he worshipped me ; 
 Eut we'd both be blowed if we'd either be 
 stowed 
 
 In the other chap's hold, you see. 
 
 £ ' I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom ; 
 
 ' Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be,— 
 ' I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I ; 
 
 And ' Exactly so,' quoth he. 
 
 I Says he, ' Dear James, to murder me 
 
 Were a foolish thing to do, 
 For don't you see that you can't cook me. 
 
 While I can — and will— cook you ! ' 
 
 " So he boils the water, and takes the salt 
 
 And the pepper in portions true 
 (Which he never forgot), and some chopped 
 shalot, 
 
 And some sage and parsley too. 
 
 ^* ' Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, 
 Which his smiling features tell, 
 Twill soothing be if I let you see 
 How extremely nice you'll smell/ 
 
" And he stirred it round and round and round, 
 And he sniffed at the foaming froth ; 
 
 When I ups with his heels, and smothers his 
 squeals 
 In the scum of the boiling broth. 
 
 '" And I eat that cook in a week or less, 
 
 And — as I eating be 
 The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, 
 
 For a wessel in sight I see ! 
 
 "And I never larf, and I never smile, 
 
 And I never lark nor play, 
 But sit and croak, and a single joke 
 
 I have — which is to say : 
 
 " ' Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, 
 
 And the mate of the Nancy brig, 
 And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, 
 
 And the crew of the captain's gig ! ' " 
 
 THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO. 
 
 From east and south the holy clan 
 Of Bishops gathered to a man ; 
 To Synod, called Pan-Anglican, 
 
 In flocking crowds they came. 
 Among them was a Bishop, who 
 Had lately been appointed to 
 The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo, 
 
 And Peter was his name. 
 
THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO. 
 
 His people — twenty-three in sum — 
 They played the eloquent tum-tum, 
 And lived on scalps served up in rum— 
 
 The only sauce they knew. 
 When first good Bishop Peter came 
 (For Peter was that Bishop's name), 
 To humour them, he did the same 
 
 As they of Rum-ti-Foo. 
 
 His flock, I've often heard him tell, 
 (His name was Peter) loved him well, 
 And summoned by the sound of bell, 
 
 In crowds together came. 
 " Oh, Massa, why you go away ? 
 Oh, Massa Peter, please to stay." 
 (They called him Peter, people say, 
 
 Because it was his name.) 
 
 He told them ail 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. 
 

 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 To see that dancing man he stopped, 
 Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and 
 
 hopped, 
 Then down incontinently dropped, 
 And then sprang up again. 
 
 The Bishop chuckled at the sight. 
 
 " This style of dancing would delight 
 
 A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite. 
 
 I'll learn it if I can, 
 To please the tribe when I get back." 
 " He begged the man to teach his knack. 
 Right Reverend Sir, in half a crack ! " 
 
 Replied that dancing man. 
 
 The dancing man he worked away, 
 And taught the Bishop every day — 
 The dancer skipped like any fay — 
 
 Good Peter did the same. 
 The Bishop buckled to his task, 
 With battlements, and pas de basque. 
 (I'll tell you, if you care to ask. 
 
 That Peter was his name.) 
 
 " Come, walk like this," the dancer said, 
 " Stick out your toes — stick in your head, 
 Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread — 
 
 Your fingers thus extend : 
 The attitude's considered quaint." 
 The weary Bishop, feeling faint, 
 Replied, " I do not say it ain't, 
 
 But 'Time! ' my Christian friend ! n 
 
THE BISHOP OF RUM -TI-FO 3; 
 
 ' We now proceed to something new — 
 Dance as the Paynes and Laukis do, 
 Like this — one, two — one, two— one, two.' 
 
 The Bishop, never proud, 
 But in an overwhelming- heat 
 (His name was Peter, I repeat) 
 Performed the Payne and Lauri feat, 
 
 And puffed his thanks aloud. 
 
 Another game the dancer planned— 
 "Just take your ankle in your hand, 
 And try, my lord, if you can stand — 
 
 Your body stiff and stark. 
 If, when revisiting your see, 
 You learn to hop on shore— like me— • 
 The novelty would striking be, 
 
 And must attract remark." 
 
 "No,'' said the worthy Bishop, "no ; 
 That is a length to which, I trow, 
 Colonial Bishops cannot go. 
 
 You may express surprise 
 At finding Bishops deal in pride — 
 But if that trick I ever tried, 
 I should appear undignified 
 
 In Rum-ti-Foozle"^ 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 : 
 
BALLADS. 
 
 But if they saw their Bishop land, 
 His leg" supported in his hand, 
 The joke they wouldn't understand— 
 Twould pain them very much ! " 
 
 THE PRECOCIOUS BABY. 
 
 A VERY TRUE TALE. 
 
 ( To be sung to the A ir of the "Whistling Oys- 
 ter.") 
 An elderly person — a prophet by trade — 
 
 With his quips and tips 
 
 On withered old lips, 
 He married a young and a beautiful maid ; . 
 
 The cunning old blade ! 
 
 Though rather decayed, 
 He married a beautiful, beautiful maid. 
 
 She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be 
 
 With her tempting smiles 
 
 And maidenly wiles, 
 And he was a trifle past seventy-three ; 
 
 Now what she could see 
 
 Is a puzzle to me ; 
 In a prophet of seventy — seventy-three ! 
 
 Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad) 
 
 With their loud high jinks 
 
 And underbred winks, 
 None thought they'd a family have— but they 
 had; 
 
THE PRECOCIOUS BABY. 37 
 
 A dear little lad 
 Who drove 'em half mad, 
 r or he turned out a horribly fast little cad. 
 
 r or when he was born he astonished all by, 
 
 With their " Law, dear me!" 
 " Did you ever see ? " 
 Ie"d a pipe in his mouth and a glass in his eye, 
 
 A hat all awry 
 
 An octagon tie — 
 ind a miniature — miniature glass in his eye. 
 
 [e grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap, 
 
 With his li Oh, dear, oh ! " 
 
 And his " Hang it ! 'oo know !" 
 .nd he turned up his nose at his excellent pap — 
 
 " My friends. it*s a tap 
 
 Dat is not worf a rap." 
 'sow this was remarkably excellent pap.) 
 
 [e'd chuck his nurse under the chin, and he'd 
 say. 
 With his " Fal, lal, lal "— 
 " 'Oo doosed fine gal ! " 
 his shocking prococity drove 'em away : 
 "A month from to-day 
 Is as long as I'll stay — 
 hen I'd wish, if you please, for to toddle 
 away." 
 
 lis father, a simple old gentleman, he 
 With nursery rhyme 
 And " Once on a time," 
 
38 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 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 '00, fie ! " 
 Would exclaim, " I'm affaid 'oo a socking ole 
 fox," 
 Now a father it shocks, 
 And it whitens his locks, [fox. 
 
 When his little babe calls him a shocking old 
 
 The name of his father he'd couple and pair 
 
 (With his ill-bred laughj 
 
 And insolent chaff) 
 With those of the nursery heroines rare- 
 Virginia the Fair, 
 
 Or Good Goldenhair, 
 Till the nuisance was more than a prophet 
 
 could bear. 
 "There's Jill and White Cat " (said the bold 
 
 little brat, 
 
 With his loud, "Ha, ha!") 
 
 " 'Oo sly ickle Pa! 
 Wiz 'oo Beauty, Bo-Peep, and 'oo Mrs. Jack 
 Sprat ! 
 
 I've noticed '00 pat 
 
 My pretty White Cat— 
 I sink dear mamma ought to know about dat ! | 
 
to p h a-: b e. 39 
 
 He early determined to marry and wive, 
 For better or worse 
 With his elderly nurse— 
 
 Which the poor little boy didn't live to con- 
 trive : 
 His heafth didn't thrive- 
 No longer alive, 
 
 He died an enfeebled old dotard at five ! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Now, elderly men of the bachelor crew, 
 
 With wrinkled hose 
 
 And spectacled nose, 
 Don't marry at all — you may take it as true 
 
 If ever you do 
 
 The step you will rue, 
 For your babes will be elderly— elderly, too. 
 
 TO PHCEBE.* 
 
 " Gentle, modest little flower, 
 
 Sweet epitome of May. 
 Love me but for half an hour, 
 
 Love me, love me, little fay." 
 Sentences so fiercely flaming 
 
 In your tiny shell-like ear, 
 I should always be exclaiming 
 
 If I ioved you, Phoebe dear. 
 
 * This ballad is published as a song 
 the title " If," by Messrs. Cramer and C 
 
" 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. 
 
 BAINES CAREW, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Of all the good attorneys who 
 Have placed their names upon the roll, 
 
 But few could equal Baines Carew 
 For tender-heartedness and soul. 
 
 Whene'er he heard a tale of woe 
 
 From client A or client B, 
 His grief would overcome him so 
 
 He'd scarce have strength to take his fee. 
 
 It laid him up for many days, 
 
 When duty led him to distrain, 
 And serving writs, although it pays, 
 
 Gave him excruciating pain. 
 
 He made out costs, distrained for rent, 
 Foreclosed and sued, with moistened eye — 
 
 No bill of costs could represent 
 The value of such sympathy. 
 
BAINES CAREW, GENTLEMAN. 
 
 No charges can approximate 
 
 The worth of sympathy with woe ; — 
 Although I think I ought to state 
 
 He did his best to make them so. 
 
 Of all the many clients who 
 Had mustered round his legal flag, 
 
 No single client of the crew 
 Was half so dear as Captain Bagg. 
 
 Now, Captain Bagg had bowed him to 
 A heavy matrimonial yoke — 
 
 His wifey had of faults a few — 
 She never could resist a joke. 
 
 Her chaff at first he meekly bore, 
 Till unendurable it grew. 
 To stop this persecution sore 
 I will consult my friend Carew. 
 
 And when Carew's advice I've got, 
 Divorce a mensa I shall try." 
 (A legal separation— not 
 A vinculo* conjugii?) 
 
 1 Oh, Baines Carew, my woe I've kept 
 A secret hitherto, you know : " — 
 
 (And Baines Carew, Esquire, he wept 
 To hear that Bagg had any woe.) 
 
 My case, indeed, is passing sad. 
 My wife — whom I considered true — 
 With brutal conduct drives me mad."" 
 " I am appalled," said Baines Carew. 
 
42 THE BAB BALLADS, 
 
 " What ! sound the matrimonial knell 
 Of worthy people such as these ! 
 
 Why was I an attorney ? Well — 
 Go on to the scevitia^ please.' 1 
 
 " Domestic bliss has proved my bane,— 
 
 A harder case you never heard, 
 My wife (in other matters sane) 
 
 Pretends that I'm a Dicky bird ! 
 
 "She makes me sing, ' Too-whit, too-wee!' 
 And stand upon a rounded stick, 
 
 And always introduces me 
 To every one as ' Pretty Dick ' ! ' 1 
 
 "Oh, dear," said weeping Baines Carew, 
 " This is the direct case, I know." 
 
 " I'm grieved, 1 ' said Bagg, " at paining you— 
 To Cobb and Poltherthwaite I'll go — 
 
 To Cobb's cold, calculating ear, 
 My gruesome sorrows Til impart " — 
 
 " No ; stop," said Baines, " I'll dry my tear, 
 And steel my sympathetic heart." 
 
 " She makes me perch upon a tree, 
 Rewarding me with ' Sweety — nice ! ' 
 
 And threatens to exhibit me 
 With four or five performing mice." 
 
 " Restrain my tears I wish I could " 
 (Said Baines), " I don't know what to do.' 
 
 Said Captain Bagg, " You're very good." 
 " Oh, not at all," said Baines Carew. 
 
THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM HANCE. 
 
 " She makes me fire a gun," said Bagg ; 
 
 "And, at a preconcerted word, 
 Climb up a ladder with a flag, 
 
 Like any street performing bird. 
 
 " She places sugar in my way — 
 In public places calls me w Sweet ! ' 
 
 She gives me groundsel every day, 
 And hard canary-seed to eat. ,r 
 
 | Oh, woe ! oh, sad ! oh, dire to tell ! " 
 (Said Baines). " Be good enough to stop.' 
 
 And senseless on the floor he fell, 
 With unpremeditated flop ! 
 
 Said Captain Bagg, "Well, really I 
 Am grieved to think it pains you so. 
 
 I thank you for your sympathy ; 
 But hang it ! — come — I say, you know ! " 
 
 But Baines lay flat upon the floor, 
 Convulsed with sympathetic sob ; — 
 
 The Captain toddled off next door, 
 And gave the case to Mr. Cobb. 
 
 THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM HANCE. 
 
 In all the towns and cities fair 
 On merry England's broad expanse, 
 
 No swordsman ever could compare 
 With Thomas Winterbottom Hance. 
 
44 THEBABBALLADS. 
 
 The dauntless lad could fairly hew 
 A silken handkerchief in twain, 
 
 Divide a leg of mutton too — 
 And this without unwholesome strain. 
 
 On whole half-sheep, with cunning- trick, 
 His sabre sometimes he'd employ — 
 
 No bar of lead, however thick, 
 Had terrors for the stalwart boy. 
 
 At Dover daily he'd prepare 
 To hew and slash, behind, before — 
 
 Which aggravated Monsieur Pierre, 
 Who watched him from the Calais shore. 
 
 It caused good Pierre to swear and dance, 
 The sight annoyed and vexed him so ; 
 
 He was the bravest man in France — 
 He said so, and he ought to know. 
 
 " Regardez done, ce cochon gros — 
 
 Ce polisson ! Oh, sacre bleu ! 
 Son sabre, son plomb, et ses gigots ! 
 
 Comme cela m'ennuye, enfin, mon Dieu ! 
 
 " II sait que les foulards de soie 
 
 Give no retaliating whack — 
 Les gigots morts n'ont pas de quoi — 
 
 Le plomb don't ever hit you back." 
 
 But every day the headstrong lad 
 
 Cut lead and mutton more and more ; 
 
 And every day poor Pierre, half mad, 
 Shrieked loud defiance from his shore. 
 
THOMAS WIKTERBOTTOM HANCE. 45 
 
 Hance had a mother, poor and old, 
 
 A simple, harmless village dame, 
 Who crowed and clapped as people told 
 
 Of Winterbottom's rising fame. 
 
 She said, " I'll be upon the spot 
 To see my Tommy's sabre-play ; " 
 
 And so she left her ieafy cot, 
 And walked to Dover in a day. 
 
 Pierre had a doating mother, who 
 
 Had heard of his defiant rage ; 
 His Ma was nearly ninety-two, 
 
 And rather dressy for her age. 
 
 At Hance's doings every morn, 
 With sheer delight his mother cried ; 
 
 And Monsiel'R Pierre's contemptuous scorn 
 Filled his mamma with proper pride. 
 
 But Hance's powers began to fail — 
 
 His constitution was not strong — 
 And Pierre, who once was stout and hale, 
 
 Grew thin from shouting all day long. 
 
 Their mothers saw them pale and wan, 
 Maternal anguish tore each breast, 
 
 And so they met to find a plan 
 To set their offsprings' minds at rest, 
 
 Said Mrs. Hance, "Of course I shrinks 
 From bloodshed, ma'am, as you're aware, 
 
 But still they'd better meet, I thinks." 
 " Assurement ! " said Madame Pierre. 
 
4 6 
 
 BAB BALLADS. 
 
 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. 
 
 "N^ 
 
 4?^| ! V>X£ X art 
 
 'the .mothers were of decent size. 
 Said Mrs. H., " Your work you see — 
 
 Go in. my noble boy, and win." 
 " En garde, mon fils ! " said Madame P. 
 " Allons ! " "Go on!" "En garde!" " 
 gin ! " 
 
 (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.) 
 
ADISCONTEXTE1) SUGAR BROKER. 47 
 
 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 magniflque ! " said Madame P., 
 
 " Mais, parbleu ! ce n'est pas la guerre ! " 
 
 y Je scorn un foe si lache que vous," 
 
 Said Pierre, the doughty son cf France. 
 
 " I fight not coward foe like you ! " 
 Said our undaunted Tommy Haxce. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 A DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKER. 
 
 A gentleman of City fame 
 
 Now claims your kind attention ; 
 East India broking was his game, 
 His name I shall not mention : 
 No one of finely-pointed sense 
 Would violate a confidence, 
 
And shall I go 
 And do it? No! 
 His name I shall not mention. 
 
 He had a trusty wife, and true, 
 
 And very cosy quarters, 
 A manager, a boy or two, 
 Six clerks, and seven porters. 
 A broker must be doing well 
 (As any lunatic can tell) 
 Who can employ 
 An active boy, 
 Six clerks, and seven porters. 
 
 His knocker advertised no dun, 
 
 No losses made him sulky, 
 He had one sorrow^only one — 
 He was extremely bulky. 
 A man must be, I beg to state, 
 Exceptionally fortunate 
 Who owns his chief 
 And only grief 
 Is — being very bulky. 
 
 " This load," he'd say, " I cannot bear ; 
 
 I'm nineteen stone or twenty ! 
 Henceforward I'll go in for air 
 And exercise in plenty." 
 
 Most people think that, should it come, 
 They can reduce a bulging turn 
 To measures fair 
 By taking air 
 And exercise in plenty. 
 
DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKE K. 4 
 
 In every weather, every day, 
 Dry, muddy, wet, or gritty, 
 He took to dancing all the way 
 From Brompton to the City. 
 You do not often get the chance 
 Of seeing sugar brokers dance 
 From their abode 
 In Fulham Road 
 Through Brompton to the City. 
 
 He braved the gay and guileless laugh 
 
 Of children with their nusses, 
 The loud uneducated chaff 
 Of clerks on omnibuses. 
 Against all minor things that rack 
 A nicely-balanced mind, I'll back 
 The noisy chaff 
 And ill-bred laugh 
 Of clerks on omnibuses. 
 
 His friends, who heard his money chink. 
 
 And saw the house he rented, 
 And knew his wife, could never think 
 What made him discontented. 
 It never entered their pure minds 
 That fads are of eccentric kinds, 
 Nor would they own 
 That fat alone 
 Could make one discontented, 
 
 " Your riches know no kind of pause, 
 Your trade is fast advancing ; 
 
THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 You dance — but not for joy, because 
 You weep as you are dancing. 
 To dance implies that man is glad, 
 To weep implies that man is sad ; 
 But here are you 
 Who do the two — 
 You weep as you are dancing ! " 
 
 His mania soon got noised about 
 
 And into all the papers ; 
 His size increased beyond a doubt 
 For all his reckless capers : 
 It may seem singular to you, 
 But all his friends admit.it true— 
 The more he found 
 His figure round, 
 The more he cut his capers. 
 
 His bulk increased— no matter that — 
 
 He tried the more to toss it — 
 He never spoke of it as "fat," 
 But "adipose deposit." 
 Upon my word, it seems to me 
 Unpardonable vanity 
 (And worse than that) 
 To call your fat 
 An "adipose deposit." 
 
 At length his brawny knees gave way, 
 
 And on the carpet sinking, 
 Upon his shapeless back he lay 
 
 And kicked away like winking. 
 
l DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKER. 51 
 
 Instead of seeing- in his state 
 The finger of unswerving Fate. 
 
 He laboured still 
 
 To work his will, 
 And kicked away like winking. 
 
 :.:>-* 
 
 HOW HIS EXERTIONS ENDED. 
 
 His friends, disgusted with him now. 
 
 Away in silence wended — 
 I hardly like to tell you. how 
 This dreadful story ended. 
 The shocking sequel to impart, 
 I must employ the limner's art — 
 If you would know, 
 This sketch will show 
 How his exertions ended. 
 

 MORAL. 
 
 I hate to preach— I hate to prate— 
 
 I'm no fanatic croaker, 
 But learn contentment from the fate 
 Of this East India broker. 
 He'd everything a man of taste 
 Could ever want, except a waist ; 
 And discontent 
 His size anent, 
 And bootless perseverance blind. 
 Completely wrecked the peace of mind 
 Of this East India broker. 
 
 THE PANTOMIME 'SUPER 1 TO HIS 
 MASK. 
 
 Vast empty shell ! 
 Impertinent, preposterous abortion ! 
 
 With vacant stare 
 
 And ragged hair 
 And every feature out of all proportion J 
 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 1 
 
 Nine weeks of nights, 
 
 Before the lights, 
 Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity. 
 
PANTO MI ME'SUPER 1 TO HIS MASK. 53, 
 
 I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed di- 
 
 urnally, 
 Credited for the smile you wear externally — 
 I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally, 
 As there thou liest ! 
 
 I've been thy brain : 
 fve been the brain that lit thy dull concavity, 
 
 The human race 
 
 Invest my face 
 With thine expression of unchecked depravity 
 Invested with a ghastly reciprocity, 
 I've been responsible for thy monstrosity, 
 I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity — 
 
 But not again ! 
 
 'Tis 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 respondeat.) 
 
 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 
 
54 THE 'BAB* BALLADS. 
 
 A brain that mourns thine unredeemed rascal- j 
 
 ity? 
 A soul that weeps at thy threadbare morality ? 
 Both grieving that their individuality 
 Is merged in thine ? 
 
 THE GHOST, THE GALLANT, THE 
 GAEL, AND THE GOBLIN. 
 
 O'er unreclaimed, suburban clays 
 
 Some years ago were hobblin' 
 An elderly ghost of easy ways, 
 
 And an influential goblin. 
 The ghost was a sombre spectral shape, 
 
 A line old five-act fogy, 
 The goblin imp, a lithe young ape, 
 
 A fine low-comedy bogy. 
 
 And as they exercised their joints, 
 
 Promoting quick digestion, 
 They talked on several curious points, 
 
 And raised this delicate question : 
 "Which of us two is Number One — 
 
 The ghostie, or the goblin ? " 
 And o'er the point they raised in fun 
 
 They fairly fell a squabblin'. 
 
 They barely speak, and each, in fine, 
 Grew more and more reflective : 
 
 Each thought his own particular line 
 By chalks the more effective. 
 
THE GHOST AND THE GOBLIN. 55 
 
 At length they settled some one should 
 
 By each of them be haunted, 
 And so arrange that either could 
 
 Exert his prowess vaunted. 
 " The Quaint against the Statuesque " — 
 
 By competition lawful — 
 The goblin backed the Quaint Grotesque, 
 
 The ghost the Grandly Awful. 
 " Now," said the goblin, " here's my plan — 
 
 In attitude commanding, 
 I see a stalwart Englishman 
 
 By yonder tailor's standing. 
 " The very fittest man on earth 
 
 My influence to try on — 
 Of gentle, p'r'aps of noble birth, 
 
 And dauntless as a lion ! 
 Now wrap yourself within your shroud — 
 
 Remain in easy hearing — 
 Observe— you'll hear him scream aloud 
 
 When I begin appearing ! " 
 
 The imp with yell unearthly — wild — 
 
 Threw off his dark enclosure : 
 His dauntless victim looked and smiled 
 
 With singular composure.. 
 For hours he tried to daunt the youth, 
 
 For days, indeed, but vainly — 
 The stripling smiled !— to tell the truth, 
 
 The stripling smiled inanely. 
 
 For weeks the goblin weird and wild 
 That noble stripling haunted ; 
 
THE B A B 
 
 IS A L L A V ? 
 
 For weeks the stripling stood and smiled 
 Unmoved and all undaunted. 
 
 The sombre ghost exclaimed, " Your pla 
 Has failed you, goblin, plainly ; 
 
 Now watch yon hardy Hieland man, 
 So stalwart and ungainiy. 
 
 ' HIS DAUNTLESS VICTIM LOOKED AND SMILED. 
 
 " 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. 
 
THE GHOST AND THE GOBLIN. 
 
 Of such as he, the men sublime 
 Who lead their troops victorious, 
 
 Whose deeds go down to after-time, 
 Enshrined in annals glorious ! 
 
 " Of such as he the bard has said 
 
 1 Hech thrawfu' raltie rorkie ! 
 Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperhead 
 
 And fash' wi' unco pawkie ! ' 
 He'll faint away when I appear. 
 
 Upon his native heather ; 
 Or p'r'aps he'll only scream with fear, 
 
 Or p'r'aps the two together.' 1 
 
 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 duel's stout Gaelic stuff 
 
 Withstood all ghostly harrying : 
 His fingers closed upon the snuff 
 
 Which upwards he was carrying. 
 
 For days that ghost declined to stir, 
 
 A foggy shapeless giant— 
 For weeks that splendid officer 
 
 Stared back again defiant. 
 Just as the Englishman returned 
 
 The goblin's vulgar staring, 
 Just so the Scotchman boldly spurned 
 
 The ghost's unmannered scaring. 
 
For several years the ghostly twain 
 
 These Britons bold have haunted. 
 But all their efforts are in vain — 
 
 Their victims stand undaunted. 
 This very day the imp, and ghost, 
 
 Whose powers the imp derided, 
 Stand each at his allotted post — 
 
 The bet is undecided. 
 
 THE PHANTOM CURATE. 
 
 A. Bishop once — I will not name his see — 
 Annoyed his clergy in the mode conven- 
 tional ; 
 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 uprigh 
 
 man, 
 
 He sought to make of human pleasure: 
 
 clearances ; 
 
 .And form his priests on that much-lauded plar 
 
 Which pays undue attention to appearances. 
 
 He couldn"t do good deeds without ; 
 
 psalm in 'em, 
 Although, in truth, he bore away th 
 palm in 'em. 
 
THE PHANTOM CURATE. 59- 
 
 Enraged to find a deacon at a dance, 
 
 Or catch a curate at some mild frivolity, 
 He sought by open censure to enchance 
 Their dread of joining harmless social jollity. 
 Yet he enjoyed (a fact of notoriety) 
 The ordinary pleasures of society. 
 
 One evening, sitting at a pantomime 
 (Forbidden treat to those who stood in fear 
 of him), 
 Roaring at jokes, sans metre, sense, or rhyme,. 
 He turned and saw, immediately in rear of. 
 him, 
 His peace of mind upsetting, and annoy- 
 ing it, 
 A curate, also heartily enjoying it. 
 
 Again 'twas Christmas Eve, and to enhance 
 His children's pleasure in their harmless- 
 rollicking. 
 He, like a good old fellow, stood to dance ; 
 When something checked the current of his. 
 frolicking : 
 That curate, with a maid he treated 
 
 lover-ly, 
 Stood up and figured with him in the 
 " Coverley ! " 
 
 Once, yielding to an universal choice 
 
 (The company's demand was an emphatic 
 one 
 
 For the old Bishop had a glorious voice), 
 In a quartet he joined — an operatic one. 
 
OO THEBABBALLADS. 
 
 Harmless enough, though ne'er a word 
 
 of grace in it, 
 When, lo ! that curate came and took the 
 
 base 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 
 hysenally. 
 
 Now at a picnic, 'mid fair golden curls, 
 
 Bright eyes, straw hats, bottines that fit 
 amazingly, 
 A croquet-bout is planned by all the girls : 
 And he, consenting, speaks of croquet prais- 
 ingly ; 
 But suddenly declines to play at all in 
 
 it — 
 The curate fiend has come to take a ball 
 in it! 
 
 Next, when at quiet seaside village, freed 
 From cares episcopal and ties monarchical, 
 
 He grows his beard, and smokes his fragrant 
 weed, 
 In manner anything but hierarchical — 
 
KIXG BOERIABl'NGALEE BOO. 6l 
 
 He sees — and fixes an unearthly stare on 
 
 it ! 
 That curate's face, with half a yard of 
 
 hair on it ! 
 
 At length he gave a charge, and spake this 
 word : 
 "Vicars, your curates to enjoyment urge ye 
 may ; 
 To check their harmless pleasuring's absurd ; 
 What laymen do without reproach my clergy 
 may." 
 He spake, and lo ! at this concluding 
 
 word of him, 
 The curate vanished — no one since has 
 heard of him. 
 
 KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO. 
 
 King Borria Blxgalee Boo 
 
 Was a man-eating African swell ; 
 
 His sigh was a hullaballoo, 
 His whisper a horrible yell — 
 A horrible, horrible yell ! 
 
 Four subjects and all of them male, 
 To Borria doubled the knee, 
 
 They were once on a far larger scale, 
 But he'd eaten the balance, you see 
 {"Scale' 1 and "balance" is punning, yo 
 see). 
 
62 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 There was haughty Pish-Tush-Pooh-Bah, 
 There was lumbering Doodle-Dum-Day ; 
 
 Despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah, 
 
 And good little Tootle-Tum-Teh — 
 Exemplary Tootle-Tum-Teh. 
 
 One day there was grief in the crew, 
 For they hadn't a morsel of meat, 
 
 And Bokria Bungalee Boo 
 
 Was dying for something to eat — 
 
 " Come, provide me with something to eat ! 
 
 " Alack-a-Dey, famished I feel ; 
 
 Oh, good little Tootle-Tum-Teh, 
 Where on earth shall I look for a meal ? 
 
 For I haven't no dinner to-day ! — 
 
 Not a morsel of dinner to-day ! 
 
 " Dear Tootle-Tum. what shall we do ? 
 
 Come, get us a meal, or in truth, 
 If you don't, we shall have to eat you, 
 
 Oh, adorable friend of our youth ! 
 
 Thou beloved little friend of our youth ! " 
 
 And he answered, " Oh, Bungalee Boo, 
 For a moment I hope you will wait, — 
 
 Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo 
 
 Is the Queen of a neighbouring state — 
 A remarkably neighbouring state. 
 
 " TlPPY-WlPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO, 
 
 She would pickle deliciously cold — 
 
KING BORKIA BUNGALEE BOO. 63 
 
 And her four pretty Amazons, too. 
 Are enticing, and not very old — 
 Twenty-seven is not very old. 
 
 11 There is neat little Titty-Fol-Leh, 
 There is rollicking Tral-the-Ral-Lah, 
 
 There is jocular Waggety-Weh, 
 
 There is musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah — 
 There's the nightingale Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah ! '' 
 
 So the forces of Bungalee Boo 
 
 Marched forth in a terrible row, 
 And the ladies who fought for Queen Loo 
 
 Prepared to encounter the foe — 
 
 This dreadful, insatiate foe ! 
 
 But they sharpened no weapons at all, 
 And they poisoned no arrows — not they ! 
 
 They made ready to conquer or fall 
 In a totally different way — 
 An entirely different way. 
 
 With a crimson and pearly-white dye 
 
 They endeavoured to make themselves fair r 
 
 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. 
 
6 4 
 
 But jocular Waggety-Weh 
 
 Ogled Doodle-Dum-Dey (which was wrong-), 
 And neat little Titty-Fol-Leh 
 
 Said, " Tootle-Tum, you go along ! 
 
 You naughty old dear, go along ! " 
 
 And rollicking Tral-the-Ral-Lah 
 Tapped Alack-a-Dey-Ah with her fan ; 
 
 And musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah 
 Said, " Pish, go away, you bad man ! 
 Go away, you delightful young man ! " 
 
 And the Amazons simpered and sighed, 
 And they ogled, and giggled, and flushed, 
 
 And they opened their pretty eyes wide, 
 And they chuckled, and flirted, and blushed 
 (At least, if they could, they'd have blushed.) 
 
 But haughty Pish-Tush-Pooh-Bah 
 Said, " Alack-a-Dey, what does this mean ? " 
 
 And despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah 
 
 Said, " They think us uncommonly green ! 
 Ha ! ha ! most uncommonly green ! " 
 
 Even blundering Doodle-Dum-Dey 
 Was insensible quite to their leers, 
 
 And said good little Tootle-Tum-Teh, 
 " It's your blood we desire, pretty dears — 
 We have come for our dinners, my dears ! " 
 
 And the Queen of the Amazons fell 
 To Bokkia Bungalee Boo, — 
 
BOB BOLTER. 
 
 In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell, 
 
 TlPBY-WlPPITV 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 Aj.ack-a-Dey-Ah — 
 Despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah. 
 
 And rollicking Tral-the-Ral-Lah 
 Was eaten by Doodle-Dum-Dey 
 
 And musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah 
 By good little Tootle-Tum-Teh— 
 Exemplary Tootle-Tum-Teh ! 
 
 BOB POLTER. 
 
 Bob Polter was a navvy, and 
 His hands were coarse, and dirty too, 
 
 His homely face was rough and tanned, 
 His time of life was thirty-two. 
 
 He lived among a working clan 
 (A wife he hadn't got at all), 
 
 A decent, steady, sober man- 
 No saint, however — not at all. 
 
 He smoked but in a modest way, 
 Because he thought he needed it ; 
 
 He drank a pot of beer a day, 
 And sometimes he exceeded it. 
 
30 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 At times he'd pass with other men 
 A loud convivial night or two, 
 
 With, very likely, now and tnen, 
 On Saturdays, a fight or two. 
 
 But still he was a sober soul, 
 A labour-never-shirking man, 
 
 Who paid his way — upon the whole 
 A decent English working man. 
 
 One day, when at the Nelson's Head 
 (For which he may be blamed of you), 
 
 A holy man appeared and said, 
 
 " Oh, Robert, I'm ashamed of you." 
 
 He laid his hand on Robert's beer 
 
 Before he could drink up any, 
 And on the floor, with sigh and tear, 
 He poured the pot of " thruppenny." 
 
 u Oh, Robert, at this very bar 
 A truth you'll be discovering, 
 
 A good and evil genius are 
 Around your noddle hovering. 
 
 " They both are here to bid you shun 
 
 The other one's society. 
 For Total Abstinence is one, 
 
 The other, Inebriety." 
 
 He waved his hand— a vapour came— 
 A wizard Polter reckoned him : 
 
 A bogy rose and called his name, 
 And with his finger beckoned him. 
 
BOB POLTEK. 6 
 
 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 ; 
 Iiis pimpled face was wan and pale, 
 
 Where filth had not encrusted it. 
 
 " Come, Polter, 1 ' said the fiend, " begin, 
 And keep the bowl a-fio\ving on — 
 
 A working man needs pints of gin 
 To keep his clockwork going on." 
 
 Bob shuddered : " Ah, you've made a miss 
 
 If you take me for one of you : 
 You filthy beast, get out of this— 
 
 Bob Polter don't want none of you," 
 
 The demon gave a drunken shriek, 
 And crept away in stealthiness, 
 
 And lo ! instead, a person sleek, 
 Who seemed to burst with healthiness. 
 
 " In me, as your adviser hints, 
 Of Abstinence you've got a type — 
 
 Of Mr. Tweedie's pretty prints 
 I am the happy prototype. 
 
 " If you abjure the social toast, 
 And pipes, and such frivolities, 
 
 You possibly some day may boast 
 My prepossessing qualities ! " 
 
)8 T H E B A B U A L L A D S. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 11 In this, my unenlightened state, 
 To work in heavy boots I comes ; 
 
 Will pumps henceforward decorate 
 My tiddle toddle tootsicums ? 
 
 " And shall I get so plump and fresh, 
 
 And look no longer seedily ? 
 My skin will henceforth fit my flesh 
 
 So tightly and so. TwEEDiE-ly ? " 
 
 The phantom said, " You'll have all this, 
 You'll know no kind of huffiness ; 
 
 Your life will be one chubby bliss, 
 One long unruffled pufhness ! " 
 
 " Be off ! " said irritated Bob. 
 
 " Why come you here to bother one ? 
 You pharisaical old snob, 
 
 You're wuss almost than t'other one ! 
 
iS. 
 
 ' I TAKES MY PIPE. 
 
" I takes my pipe— I takes my pot, 
 An J drunk I'm never seen to be : 
 
 I'm no teetotaller or sot, 
 And as I am I mean to be ! " 
 
 THE STORY OF PRINCE AGIB. 
 Strike the concertina's melancholy string i 
 Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything ! 
 Let the piano's martial blast 
 Rouse the Echoes of the Past, 
 For of Agib, Prince of Tartary, I sing ! 
 
 Of Agib, who, amid Tartaric scenes, 
 Wrote a lot of ballet music in his teens : 
 
 His gentle spirit rolls 
 
 In the melody of souls — 
 Which is pretty, but I don't know what it 
 
 means. 
 Of Agib, who could readily, at sight, 
 Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite, 
 
 He would diligently play 
 
 On the Zoetrope all day, 
 And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night. 
 One winter — I am shaky in my dates — 
 Came two starving Tartar minstrels to his 
 gates ; 
 
 Oh, Allah be obeyed, 
 
 How infernally they played ! 
 I remember that they called themselves the 
 " Oiiaits." 
 
THE STORY OF PRINCE AGIB. 7 1 
 
 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 I 
 
 Alas ! Prince Agib went and asked them in ; 
 Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and 
 scent, and tin. 
 
 And when (as snobs would say) 
 They had "put it all away," 
 He requested them to tune up and begin. 
 
 Though its icy horror chill you to the core, 
 1 will tell you what I never told before, — 
 
 The consequences true 
 
 Of that awful interview, 
 For I listened at the keyhole i?i the door / 
 
 They played him a sonata — let me see ! 
 
 " Medulla oblongata " — key of G. 
 Then they began to sing 
 That extremely lovely thing, 
 
 f Scherzando .' via non troppo, pppy 
 
 He gave them money, more than they could 
 count, 
 
 Scent from a most ingenious little fount, 
 More beer, in little kegs, 
 Many dozen hard-boiled eggs, 
 
 And goodies to a fabulous amount. 
 
 Now follows the dim horror of my tale, 
 
 And I feel I*m growing gradually pale, 
 
For, even at this day, 
 Though its sting has passed away, 
 When I venture to remember it, I quail ! 
 
 The elder of the brothers gave a squeal, 
 
 All-overish it made me for to feel ; 
 
 " Oh, Prince," he says, says he, 
 " 1/ a Prince indeed you tic, 
 
 I've a mystery I'm going to reveal ! 
 
 " Oh, listen, if you'd shun a horrid death, 
 To what the gent who's speaking to you saith 
 
 No ' Ouaits ' in truth are we, 
 
 As you fancy that we be, 
 For (ter-remble !) I am Aleck— this is Beth ! ' 
 
 Said Agib, " Oh ! accursed of your kind, 
 I have heard that ye are men of evil mind ! " 
 Beth gave a dreadful shriek — 
 But before he'd time to speak 
 I was mercilessly collared from behind. 
 
 In number ten or twelve, or even more. 
 They fastened me full length upon the floor. 
 
 On my face extended flat, 
 
 I was walloped with a cat 
 For listening at the keyhole of a door. 
 
 Oh ! the horror of that agonizing thrill ! 
 (I can feel the place in frosty weather still), 
 
 For a week from ten to four 
 
 I was fastened to the floor, 
 While a mercenary wopped me with a will. 
 
ELLEN M JONES ABERDEEN. J' : 
 
 They branded me and broke me on a wheel, - 
 And they left me in a 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 M'JONES ABERDEEN. 
 
 Macphairson Clonglocketty Angus M'Clan 
 Was the son of an elderly labouring man ; 
 You've guessed him a Scotsman, shrewd reader, 
 
 at sight, 
 And p'r'aps altogether, shrewd reader, youVe 
 
 right. 
 
 From the bonny blue Forth to the lovely Dee- 
 side, 
 
 Round by Dingwell and Wrath to the mouth of 
 the Clyde, 
 
 There wasn't a child or a woman or man 
 
 Who could pipe with Clonglocketty Angus 
 M'Clan. 
 
 No other could wake such 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 neighbouring maidens would gather 
 
 around 
 To list to the pipes and to gaze in his een, 
 Especially Ellen M'Jones Aberdeen. 
 
 All loved their M'Clan, save a Sassenach 
 
 brute, 
 Who came to the Highlands to fish and to 
 
 shoot ; 
 He dressed himself up in a Highlander way, 
 Tho' his name it was Pattison Corby Torbay. 
 
 Torbay had incurred a good deal of expense 
 To make him a Scotchman in every sense : 
 But this is a matter, you'll readily own, 
 That isn't a question of tailors alone. 
 
 A Sassenach chief may be bonily built, 
 
 He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, and kilt : 
 
 Stick a skea'n in his hose — wear an acre of 
 
 stripes — 
 But he cannot assume an affection for pipes. 
 
 Clonglocketty's pipings all night and all day 
 Quite frenzied poor Pattison Corby Torbay ; 
 The girls were amused at his singular spleen, 
 Especially Ellen M'Jones Aberdeen. 
 

 ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT HE DELIGHTED THE 
 CHIELS." 
 
76 the 'bab' ballads. 
 
 "Macphaxrson Clonglocketty Angus, my 
 
 lad, 
 With pibrochs and reels you are driving me 
 
 mad. 
 If you really must play on that cursed affair, 
 My goodness ! play something resembling an 
 
 air. 1 ' 
 
 Boiled over the blood of Macphairson 
 
 M'Clan— 
 The Clan of Clonglocketty rose as one man ; 
 For all were enraged at the insult, I ween — 
 Especially Ellen M'Jones Aberdeen. 
 
 " Let's show," said M'Clan, " to this Sassenach 
 
 loon 
 That the bagpipes can play him a regular tune. 
 Let's see," said M'Clan, as he thoughtfully 
 
 sat, 
 *' ' In my Cottage ' is easy — I'll practise at that." 
 
 He blew at his " Cottage," and blew with a 
 
 will, 
 For a year, seven months, and a fortnight, 
 
 until 
 (You'll hardly believe it) M'Clan, I declare, 
 Elicited something resembling an air. 
 
 It was wild — it was litful — 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. 
 
ELLEN M JONES ABERDEEN. 77 
 
 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 M'Jones Aberdeen. 
 
 " Hech gather, hech gather, hech gather 
 
 around ; 
 And fill a' ye lugs wi 1 the exquisite sound. 
 An air fra' the bagpipes — beat that if ye can ! 
 Hurrah for Clonglocketty Angus M'Clan ! " 
 
 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 M'Jones Aberdeen. 
 
 One morning the fidgetty 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 wailingc for Angus 
 
 M'Clan, 
 Oh ! deep was the grief for that excellent 
 
 man; 
 The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene — 
 Especially Ellen M'Jones Aberdeen. 
 It sorrowed poor Pattison Corby Torbay 
 To find them " take on " in this serious way ; 
 
78 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 He pitied the poor little fluttering birds, 
 And solaced their souls with the following 
 words : 
 
 " Oh, maidens," said Pattison, touching his 
 
 hat, 
 " Don't blubber, my dears, for a fellow like 
 
 that ; 
 Observe, I'm a very superior man, 
 A much better fellow than Angus M'Clak." 
 
 They smiled when he winked and addressed 
 
 them as "dears," 
 And they all of them vowed, as they dried up 
 
 their tears, 
 A pleasanter gentleman never was seen— 
 Especially Ellen M'Jones 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 unf requently would say, 
 
 " A quarter past thirteen." 
 
 If ever you by word of mouth 
 Inquired of Mister Forth 
 
The way to somewhere in the South, 
 
 He always sent you North. 
 With little boys his beat along 
 
 He loved to stop and play ; 
 He loved to send old ladies wrong, 
 
 And teach their feet to stray. 
 He would in frolic moments, when 
 
 Such mischief bent upon, 
 Take Bishops up as betting men — 
 
 Bid Ministers move on. 
 Then all the worthy boys he knew 
 
 He regularly licked, 
 And always collared people who 
 
 Had had their pockets picked. 
 
 He was not naturally bad, 
 
 Or viciously inclined, 
 But from his early youth he had 
 
 A waggish turn of mind. 
 The Men of London grimly scowled 
 
 With indignation wild ; 
 The Men of London gruffly growled, 
 
 But Peter calmly smiled. 
 
 Against this minion of the Crown 
 
 The swelling murmurs grew — 
 From Camberwell to Kentish Town— 
 
 From Rotherhithe to Kew. 
 Still humoured he his wagsome turn,. 
 
 And fed in various ways 
 The coward rage that dared to burn. 
 
 But did not dare to blaze. 
 
THE BAB 1 BALLADS. 
 
 Still, Retribution has her day, 
 
 Although her flight is slow : 
 One day that Crusher lost his way 
 
 Near Poland Street, Soho. 
 The haughty boy, too proud to ask, 
 
 To find his way resolved, 
 And in the tangle of his task 
 
 Got more and more involved. 
 
 The Men of London, overjoyed, 
 
 Came there to jeer their foe, 
 And flocking crowds completely cloyed 
 
 The mazes of Soho. 
 The news on telegraphic wires 
 
 Sped swiftly o'er the lea, 
 Excursion trains from distant shires 
 
 Brought myriads to see. 
 
 For weeks he trod his self-made beats 
 
 Through Newport, Gerrard, Bear, 
 Greek, Rupert, Frith, Dean, Poland 
 Streets, 
 And into Golden Square. 
 But all, alas ! in vain, for when 
 
 He tried to learn the way 
 
 Of little boys or grown-up men, 
 
 They none of them would say. 
 
 Their eyes would flash — their teeth would 
 
 grind — 
 
 Their lips would tightly curl — 
 
 They'd say, " Thy way thyself mus 
 
 find, 
 
PETER THE WAG. 01 
 
 Thou misdirecting churl ! " 
 And similarly, also, when 
 
 He tried a foreign friend ; 
 Italians answered, " 77 balen " — 
 
 The French, " No comprehend." 
 
 The Russ would say with gleaming eye 
 
 " Sevastopol ! " and groan. 
 The Greek said, " Tv7tt<o TvivTo^ai, 
 
 TV7TT0>, TVTTTSLV, TVTTTiaV.'''' 
 
 To wander thus for many a year 
 That Crusher never ceased — 
 
 The Men of London dropped a tear, 
 Their anger was appeased. 
 
 At length exploring gangs were sent 
 
 To find poor Forth's remains — 
 A handsome grant by Parliament 
 
 Was voted for their pains. 
 To seek the poor policeman out 
 
 Bold spirits volunteered, 
 And when they swore they'd solve the 
 doubt, 
 
 The Men of London cheered. 
 
 And in a yard, dark, dank, and drear, 
 
 They found him on the floor — 
 It leads from Richmond Buildings — near 
 
 The Royalty stage-door. 
 With brandy cold and brandy hot 
 
 They plied him, starved and wet, 
 And made him sergeant on the spot — 
 
 The Men of London's pet ! 
 
THE B A B B A L L A D S. 
 
 TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE, 
 
 BY A MISERABLE WRETCH. 
 
 Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! 
 Through pathless realms of Space 
 
 Roll on ! 
 What though I'm in a sorry case? 
 What though I cannot meet my bills ? 
 What though I suffer toothache's ills ? 
 What though I swallow countless pills ? 
 Never you mind ! 
 
 Roll on ! 
 
 Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! 
 Through seas of inky air 
 
 Roll on ! 
 It's true I've got no shirts to wear ; 
 It's true my butcher's bill is due ; 
 It's true my prospects all look blue — 
 But don't let that unsettle you ! 
 Never you mind ! 
 
 Roll on. 
 
 \_It rolls on. 
 
 GENTLE ALICE BROWN. 
 
 It was a robber"s daughter, and her name was 
 
 Alice Brown, 
 Her father was the terror of a small Italian 
 
 town ; 
 Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable 
 
 old tiling ; 
 
GENTLE ALlCEBROffN. »3 
 
 But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to 
 
 sing. 
 As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one 
 
 day, 
 A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to 
 
 pass that way ; 
 She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so 
 
 good and true, 
 That she thought, " I could be happy with a 
 
 gentleman like you ! " 
 And every morning passed her house that 
 
 cream of gentlemen, 
 She knew she might expect him at a quarter 
 
 unto ten ; 
 A sorter in the Custom-house it was his daily 
 
 road 
 (The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk 
 
 from her abode). 
 But Alice was a pious girl who knew it 
 
 wasn't wise 
 To look at strange young sorters with expres- 
 sive purple eyes ; 
 So she sought the village priest to whom her 
 
 family confessed, 
 The priest by whom their little sins were 
 
 carefully assessed. 
 
 41 Oh, holy father," Alice said, " 'twould 
 
 grieve you, would it not, 
 To discover that I was a most disreputable lot ? 
 
04 THEBAB BALLADS. 
 
 Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy 
 
 one ! " 
 The padre said, " Whatever have you been 
 
 and gone and done ? " 
 
 " I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy 
 
 from its dad, 
 I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little 
 
 lad, 
 I've planned a little burglary and forged a 
 
 little cheque. 
 And slain a little baby for the coral on its 
 
 neck ! " 
 The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped 
 
 a silent tear, 
 And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too 
 
 heavily, my dear : 
 It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for 
 
 to fleece ; 
 But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown 
 
 apiece. 
 "Girls will be girls — you're very young, and 
 
 flighty in your mind ; 
 Old heads upon young shoulders we must not 
 
 expect to find : 
 We mustn't be too hard upon these little 
 
 girlish tricks — 
 Let's see — five crimes at half-a-crown — exactly 
 
 twelve-and-six.' 1 
 
 "Oh, father," little Alice cried, "your kind- 
 ness makes me weep, 
 
GENTLE ALICE BROWN. 85, 
 
 You do these little things for me so singularly 
 
 cheap — 
 Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget ; 
 But, oh ! there is another crime I haven't 
 
 mentioned yet ! 
 
 " A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty 
 
 purple eyes, 
 I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a- 
 
 catching flies ; 
 He passes by it every day as certain as can 
 
 be— 
 I blush to say I've winked at him, and he has 
 
 winked at me ! " 
 
 " For shame ! " said Father Paul, " my erring 
 
 daughter ! On my word 
 This is the most distressing news that I have 
 
 ever heard. 
 Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has 
 
 pledged your hand 
 To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of 
 
 his band ! 
 
 " This dreadful piece of news will pain your 
 
 worthy parents so ! 
 They are the most remunerative customers I 
 
 know ; 
 For many, many years they've kept starvation 
 
 from my doors : 
 I never knew so criminal a family as yours ! 
 
86 the 'bab' ballads. 
 
 *'The common country folk in this insipid 
 neighbourhood 
 
 Have nothing to confess, they're so ridicu- 
 lously good ; 
 
 And if you marry any one respectable at all, 
 
 Why, you'll reform, and what will then be- 
 come of Father Paul? " 
 
 The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl 
 
 upon his crown, 
 And started off in haste to tell the news to 
 
 Robber Brown — 
 To tell him how his daughter, who was now 
 
 for marriage fit, 
 Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it. 
 
 Good Robber Brown he muffled up his anger 
 
 pretty well : 
 He said, " I have a notion; and that notion I 
 
 will tell ; 
 I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him 
 
 into fits, 
 And get my gentle wife to chop him into little 
 
 bits. 
 " I've studied human nature, and I know a 
 
 thing or two : 
 Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as 
 
 many do— 
 A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will 
 
 fall 
 When she looks upon his body chopped par- 
 ticularly small." 
 
MISTER WILLIA M. 87 
 
 He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban 
 
 square ; 
 He watched his opportunity, and seized him 
 
 unaware ; 
 He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the 
 
 head, 
 And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went 
 
 to bed. 
 
 And pretty little Alice grew more settled in 
 
 her mind, 
 She never more was guilty of a weakness of 
 
 the kind, 
 Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed 
 
 her pretty hand 
 On the promising young robber, the lieutenant 
 
 of his band. 
 
 MISTER WILLIAM. 
 
 Oh, listen to the tale of Mister William, if 
 
 you please, 
 Whom naughty, naughty Judges sent away 
 
 beyond the seas. 
 He forged a party's will, which caused anxiety 
 
 and strife, 
 Resulting in his getting penal servitude for 
 
 life. 
 
 He was a kindly, goodly man, and naturally 
 prone, 
 
88 THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 Instead of taking others 1 gold, to give away his 
 
 own. 
 But he had heard of Vice, and longed for only 
 
 once to strike — 
 To plan one little wickedness — to see what it 
 
 was like. 
 
 He argued with himself, and said, " A spotless 
 
 man am I ; 
 I can't be more respectable, however hard I 
 
 try! 
 For six and thirty years I've always been as 
 
 good as gold. 
 And now for half-an-hour I'll plan infamy un- 
 told ! 
 " A baby who is wicked at tht early age of 
 
 one. 
 And then reforms — and dies at thirty-six a 
 
 spotless son, 
 Is never, never saddled with his babyhood's 
 
 defect, 
 But earns from worthy men consideration and 
 
 respect. 
 
 " So one who never revelled in discreditable 
 tricks 
 
 Until he reached the comfortable age of thirty- 
 six, 
 
 May then for half-an-hour perpetrate a deed of 
 shame, 
 
 Without incurring permanent disgrace, or even 
 blame. 
 
MISTER WILLIAM. 89 
 
 " That babies don't commit such crimes as for- 
 gery is true, 
 
 But little sins develop, if you leave 'em to ac- 
 crue ; 
 
 And he who shuns all vices as successive sea- 
 sons roll, 
 
 Should reap at length the benefit of so much 
 self-control. 
 
 " The common sin of babyhood— objecting to 
 be drest— 
 
 If you leave it to accumulate at compound in- 
 terest, 
 
 For anything you know, may represent, if 
 you're alive, 
 
 A burglary or murder at the age of thirty-five. 
 
 " Still, I wouldn't take advantage of this fact, 
 but be content 
 
 With some pardonable folly — it's a mere experi- 
 ment. 
 
 The greater the temptation to go wrong, the 
 less the sin ; 
 
 So with something that's particularly tempting 
 I'll begin. 
 
 "I would not steal a penny, for my income's 
 
 very fair — 
 I do not want a penny — I have pennies and to 
 
 spare — 
 And if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till, 
 The sin would be enormous — the temptation 
 
 being nil. 
 
90 THE BAB BALLADS, 
 
 " But if I broke asunder all such pettifogging 
 bounds, 
 
 And forged a party's Will for (say) Five Hun- 
 dred Thousand Pounds, 
 
 With such an irresistible temptation to a haul, 
 
 Of course the sin must be infinitesimally small. 
 
 " There's Wilson who is dying — he has wealth 
 from Stock and rent — 
 
 If I divert his riches from their natural descent, 
 
 I'm placed in a position to indulge each little 
 whim." 
 
 So he diverted them — and they, in turn, di- 
 verted him. 
 
 Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable 
 flaw, 
 
 Temptation isn't recognised by Britain's Com- 
 mon Law ; 
 
 Men found him out by some peculiarity of 
 touch, 
 
 And William got a "lifer," which annoyed 
 him very much. 
 
 For, ah ! he never reconciled himself to life in 
 gaol, 
 
 He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited 
 and pa.le ; 
 
 He was numbered like a cabman, too, which 
 told upon him so 
 
 That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncom- 
 fortably low. 
 
WILLIAM GOT A 'LIFER. 
 
92 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 And sympathetic gaolers would remark, " It's 
 
 very true, 
 He ain't been brought up common, like the 
 
 likes of me and you." 
 So they took him into hospital, and gave him 
 
 mutton chops, 
 And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and 
 
 malt and hops. 
 
 Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in 
 
 his fate, 
 Affected by the details of his pitiable state. 
 They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in 
 
 Whitehall, 
 Who said he would receive them any day they 
 
 liked to call. 
 
 "Consider, sir, the hardship of this interesting 
 
 case : 
 A prison life brings with it something very 
 
 like disgrace ; 
 It's telling on young William, who's reduced 
 
 to skin and bone — 
 Remember he's a gentleman, with money of 
 
 his own. 
 
 He had an ample income, and of course he 
 
 stands in need 
 Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary 
 
 weed ; 
 No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly 
 
 lips— 
 
MISTEK WILLIA M. 93 
 
 He misses his sea-bathing and his Continental 
 trips. 
 
 " He says the other prisoners are commonpiace 
 and rude ; 
 
 He says he cannot relish uncongenial prison 
 food. 
 
 When quite a boy they taught him to distin- 
 guish Good from Bad, 
 
 And other educational advantages he's had. 
 
 "A burglar, or garotter, or, indeed, a com- 
 mon thief 
 Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef, 
 Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can 
 
 afford, — 
 A cut above the diet in a common workhouse 
 
 ward. 
 " But beef and mutton-broth don't seem to 
 
 suit our William's whim, 
 A boon to other prisoners— a punishment to 
 
 him. 
 It never was intended that the discipline of 
 
 gaol 
 Should dash a convict's spirits, sir, or make 
 
 him thin or pale." 
 "Good Gracious Me!" that sympathetic 
 
 Secretary cried, 
 " Suppose in prison fetters Mister William 
 
 should have died ! 
 Dear me, of course! Imprisonment for Life 
 
 his sentence saith ; 
 
94 THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 I'm very glad you mentioned it— it might 
 have been For Death ! 
 
 " Release him with a ticket— he'll be better 
 
 then, no doubt, 
 And tell him I apologise." So Mister 
 
 William's out. 
 I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, 
 
 I'm sure, 
 And not begin experimentalising any more. 
 
 THE BUMBOAT WOMAN'S STORY. 
 
 I'm old, my dears, and shrivelled 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 
 
 played 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 ! 
 
THE BUM BOAT WO MA N S STORY. 95 
 
 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 rollick- 
 ing midshipmites. 
 
 Of all the kind commanders who anchored in 
 
 Portsmouth Bay, 
 By far the sweetest of all was kind Lieutenant 
 
 Belaye. 
 Lieutenant Belaye commanded the gunboat 
 
 Hot Cross Bun, 
 She was seven and thirty feet in length, and 
 
 she carried a gun. 
 
 With a laudable view of enhancing his coun- 
 try's naval pride, 
 
 When people inquired her size, Lieutenant 
 Belaye replied, 
 
 I 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, 
 I 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. 
 
90 THE BABBAL LADS. 
 
 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 Lieu- 
 tenant 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 slop's, 
 
 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 sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour of 
 
 one, — 
 Remarkably nice young men were the crew of 
 
 the Hot Cross Bun. 
 I'm sorry to say that I've heard that sailors 
 
 sometimes swear, 
 But I never yet heard a Bun say anything 
 
 wrong, I declare. 
 
 When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a 
 " Messmate, ho ! What cheer ? " 
 

 t 
 
 JOE LOOKED QUITE HIS AGE. 
 
BALLADS. 
 
 But here, on the Hot Cross Bun, it was » How 
 
 do you do, my dear ? " 
 When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl 
 
 with a big, big D 
 
 But the strongest oath of the Hot Cross Bnns 
 
 was a mild "Dear me!" 
 Yet, though they were all well-bred, you could 
 
 scarcely call them slick : 
 Whenever a sea was on, they were all ex- 
 tremely 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 shivered and shook when 
 
 ordered aloft to run. 
 And they screamed 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 hi 
 
 lips look red— 
 That Joe looked quite his age-or somebody 
 
 might declare 
 That Barnacle's long pig-tail was never hi 
 own. own hair. 
 
THE BUMBOATWOMANS STORY, qq 
 
 Belaye would admit that his men were of no 
 
 great use to him, 
 41 But. then," he would say, " there is little to 
 
 do on a gunboat 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." 
 
 I saw him every day. How the happy mo- 
 ments sped ! 
 
 Reef topsails ! Make all taut ! There's dirty 
 weather ahead ! 
 
 (I do not mean that tempests threatened 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 Lieu- 
 tenant Belaye, 
 
 And after a long, long week had passed (and it 
 seemed like a life), 
 
 Lieutenant Belaye returned to his ship with 
 a fair young wife ! 
 
 He up, and he says, says he, " O crew of the 
 
 Hot Cross Bun, 
 Here is the wife of my heart, for the Church 
 
 has made us one ! " 
 And as he uttered the word, the crew went 
 
 out of their wits, 
 
IOO THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 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 that / should ever have 
 
 loved young men, 
 But I'm speaking of ten years past— I was 
 
 barely sixty then, 
 And now my cheeks are furrowed with grief 
 
 and age, I trow ! 
 And poor Poll Pineapple's eyes have lost 
 
 their lustre now ! 
 
 LOST MR. BLAKE. 
 Mr. Blake was a regular out-and-out hard- 
 ened sinner, 
 Who was quite out of the pale of Christian- 
 ity, so to speak. 
 He was in the habit of. smoking a long pipe 
 and drinking a glass of grog on a Sunday 
 after dinner, 
 And seldom thought of going to church more 
 than twice or— if Good Friday or Christ- 
 
mas Day happened to come in it — three 
 times a week. 
 
 He was quite indifferent as to the particular 
 kinds of dresses 
 That the clergyman wore at church where 
 he used to go to pray, 
 And whatever he did in the way of relieving a 
 chap's distresses, 
 He always did in a nasty, sneaking, under- 
 handed, hole-and-corner sort of way. 
 
 I have known him indulge in profane, ungen- 
 tlemanly emphatics, 
 When the Protestant Church has been di- 
 vided on the subject of the proper width of 
 a chasuble's hem ; 
 I have even known him to sneer at albs— and 
 as for dalmatics, 
 Words can't convey an idea of the contempt 
 he expressed for tke7ii. 
 
 He didn't believe in persons who, not being 
 
 well off themselves, are obliged to confine 
 
 their charitable exertions to collecting 
 
 money from wealthier people. 
 And looked upon individuals of the former 
 
 class as ecclesiastical hawks ; 
 He used to say that he would no more think of 
 
 interfering with his priest's robes than with 
 
 his church or his steeple, 
 And that he did not consider his soul im 
 
 perilled because somebody over whom he 
 
had no influence whatever, chose to dress 
 himself up like an exaggerated Guy 
 Fawkes. 
 
 This shocking old vagabond was so unuttera- 
 bly shameless 
 That he actually went a-courting a very 
 respectable and pious middle-aged sister, 
 by the name of Biggs. 
 
 She was a rather attractive widow, whose life 
 as such had always been particularly blame- 
 less ; 
 Her first husband had left her a secure but | 
 moderate competence, owing to some for- 
 tunate speculations in the matter of figs. 
 
 She was a respectable person in every way— 
 
 and won the respect even of Mrs. Grundy. 
 
 She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn't 
 
 have wasted a penny if she had owned the 
 
 Koh-i-noor. 
 
 ."She was just as strict as he was lax in her ob- 
 servance of Sunday, 
 And being a good economist, and charitable 
 besides, she took all the bones and cold 
 potatoes and broken pie-crusts and candle- 
 ends (when she had quite done with them), 
 and made them into an excellent soup for 
 the deserving poor. 
 
 J am sorry to say that she rather took to Blake 
 —that outcast of society, 
 And when respectable brothers who were 
 
LOST MR. BLAKE. 103 
 
 fond of her began to look dubious and to 
 cough, 
 She would say, " Oh, my friends, it's because I 
 hope to bring this poor benighted soul back 
 to virtue and propriety," 
 And besides, the poor benighted soul, with 
 all his faults, was uncommonly well off. 
 
 And when Mr. Blake's dissipated friends 
 
 called his attention to the frov\ n or the pout 
 
 of her, 
 
 Whenever he did anything which appeared 
 
 to her to savour of an unmentionable place, 
 
 He would say that, "she would be a very de- 
 cent old girl when all that nonsense was 
 knocked out of her." 
 And his method of knocking it out of her is 
 one that covered him with disgrace. 
 
 She was fond of going to church services four 
 times every Sunday, and four or five times 
 in the week, and never seemed to pall of 
 them, 
 So he hunted out all the churches within a 
 convenient distance that had services at dif- 
 ferent hours, so to speak ; 
 
 And when he had married her he positively in- 
 sisted upon their going to all of them, 
 So they contrived to do about twelve churches 
 every Sunday, and if they had luck, from 
 twenty-two to twenty-three in the course 
 of the week. 
 
It'4 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 She was fond of dropping his sovereigns osten- 
 tatiously into the plate, and she liked to see 
 them stand out rather conspicuously against 
 the commonplace half-crowns and shillings. 
 
 So he took her to all the charity sermons, and 
 if by any extraordinary chance there 
 wasn't any charity sermon anywhere, he 
 would drop a couple of sovereigns (one 
 for him and one for her) into the poor-box 
 a>. the door ; 
 And as he always deducted the sums thus given 
 in charity from the housekeeping money, 
 and the money he allowed for her bonnets 
 and frillings, 
 
 She soon began to find that even charity, if 
 you ailow it to interfere with your personal 
 luxuries, becomes an intolerable bore. 
 
 On Sunday she was always melancholy and 
 anything but good society, 
 For that day in her household was a day of 
 sighings and sobbings and wringing of 
 hands and shaking of heads ; 
 
 She wouldn't hear of a button being sewn on 
 a glove, because it was a work neither of 
 necessity nor of piety. 
 And strictly prohibited her servants from 
 amusing themselves, or indeed doing any 
 thing at all except dusting. the drawing- 
 rooms, cleaning the boots and shoes.cooking 
 the parlour dinner, waiting generally on 
 the family, and making the beds. 
 
IFE CARRY UP THE 
 
106 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 But Blake even went further than that, and 
 said that people should do their own works 
 of necessity, and not delegate them to per- 
 sons in a menial situation. 
 So he wouldn't allow his servants to do so 
 much as even answer a bell. 
 
 Here he is making his wife carry up the water 
 for her bath to the second floor, much 
 against her inclination, — 
 And why in the world the gentleman who 
 illustrates these ballads has put him in a 
 cocked hat is more than I can tell. 
 
 After about three months of this sort of thing, 
 taking the smooth with the rough of it 
 (Blacking her own boots and peeling her 
 own potatoes was not her notion of con- 
 nubial bliss), 
 
 Mrs. Blake began to find that she had pretty 
 nearly had enough of it, 
 And came, in course of time, to think thai 
 Blake 1 s own original line of conduct 
 wasn't so much amiss. 
 
 And now that wicked person— that detestable 
 sinner ("Belial Blake" his friends and 
 well-wishers call him for his atrocities) 
 And his poor deluded victim, whom all her 
 Christian brothers dislike and pity so, 
 
 Go to the parish church only on Sunday morn- 
 ing and afternoon and occasionally on a 
 week-day, and spend their evenings in 
 
THE BABY'S VENGEANCE. 107 
 
 connubial fondlings and affectionate reci- 
 procities, 
 And I should like to know where in the 
 world (or rather, out of it) they expect to 
 
 THE BABY'S VENGEANCE. 
 
 Weary at heart and extremely ill 
 Was Paley Vollaire of Bromptonville, 
 In a dirty lodging, with fever down, 
 Close to the Polygon, Somers Town. 
 
 Paley Vollaire was an only son 
 (For why ? His mother had had but one), 
 And Paley inherited gold and grounds 
 Worth several hundred thousand pounds. 
 
 But he, like many a rich young man, 
 Through this magnificent fortune ran, 
 And nothing was left for his daily needs 
 But duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds. 
 
 Shabby and sorry and sorely sick, 
 
 He slept, and dreamt that the clock's " tick, 
 
 tick," 
 Wasone of the Fates, with a long sharp knife, 
 Snicking off bits of his shortened life. 
 
 He woke and counted the pips on the walls, 
 The outdoor passengers' loud footfalls, 
 And reckoned all over, and reckoned again, 
 The little white tufts on his counterpane. 
 
108 THE W BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 A medical man to his bedside came, 
 (I can't remember that doctor's name), 
 And said, " You'll die in a very short while 
 If you don't set sail for Madeira's isle." 
 
 " Go to Madeira ? goodness me ! 
 
 I haven't the money to pay your fee ! " 
 
 "Then, Paley Vollaire," said the leech, 
 
 " good-bye : 
 I'll come no more, for you're sure to die." 
 
 He sighed and he groaned and smote his 
 
 breast ; 
 " Oh, send," said he, " for Frederick: West, 
 Ere senses fade or my eyes grow dim : 
 I've a terrible tale to whisper him ! " 
 
 Poor was Frederick's lot in life,— 
 A dustman he with a fair young wife, 
 A worthy man with a hard-earned store, 
 A hundred and seventy pounds — or more. 
 
 Frederick came, and he said, " Maybe 
 You'll say what you happened to want with 
 
 me? " 
 "Wronged boy," said Paley Vollaire, "I 
 
 will, 
 But don't you fidget yourself — sit still." 
 
 THE TERRIBLE TALE. 
 
 " 'Tis now some thirty-seven years ago 
 
 Since first began the plot that I'm revealing, 
 A fine young woman, whom you ought to 
 know, 
 
THE BABVS VENGEANCE. IO9 
 
 Lived with her husband down in Drum 
 Lane, Ealing. 
 Herself by means of mangling reimbursing, 
 And now and then (at intervals) wet-nursing. 
 
 " T\vo little babes dwelt in their humble cot : 
 One was her own— the other only lent to 
 her : 
 
 Her own she slighted. Tempted by a lot 
 Of gold and silver regularly sent to her, 
 
 She ministered unto the little other 
 
 In the capacity of foster-mother. 
 
 ' ' / was her own. Oh ! ho w I lay and sobbed 
 In my poor cradle — deeply, deeply cursing 
 The rich man's pampered bantling, who had 
 robbed 
 My only birthright — an attentive nursing ! 
 Sometimes in hatred of my foster-brother, 
 I gnashed my gums— which terrified my 
 mother. 
 
 " One day — it was quite early in the week — 
 I in my cradle having placed the bantling— 
 Crept into his I He had not learnt to speak, 
 
 But I could see his face with anger mantling. 
 It was imprudent— well, disgraceful maybe, 
 For, oh ! I was a bad, blackhearted baby ! 
 
 " So great a luxury was food, I think 
 No wickedness but I was game to try for it. 
 
 Now if I wanted anything to drink 
 At any time, I only had to cry for it ! 
 
IIO THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 Once, if I dared to weep, the bottle lacking, 
 My blubbering involved a serious smacking ! 
 
 " We grew up in the usual way — my friend, 
 My foster-brother, daily growing thinner, 
 
 While gradually I began to mend, 
 And thrived amazingly on double dinner. 
 
 And every one, besides my foster-mother, 
 
 Believed that either of us was the other. 
 
 " I came into his wealth — I bore his name, 
 
 I bear it still— Am property I squandered — 
 I mortgaged everything — and now (oh, 
 shame !) 
 Into a Somers Town shake-down I've wan- 
 dered ! 
 I am no Paley — no Vollaire — it's true, my 
 
 boy ! 
 The only rightful Paley V. is you, my boy ! 
 
 " And all I have is yours — and yours is mine. 
 
 I still may place you in your true position : 
 Give me the pounds you've saved, and I'll 
 resign 
 
 My noble name, my rank, and my condition. 
 So far my wickedness in falsely owning 
 Your vasty wealth, I am at last atoning ! " 
 
 Frederick he was a simple soul, 
 He pulled from his pocket a bulky roll, 
 And gave to Paley his hard-earned store, 
 A hundred and seventy pounds or more. 
 
MERMAIDS HUNG AROUND IN FLOCKS.' 
 
Pa ley Vollaire. with many a groan, 
 Gave Frederick all that he called his own, — 
 Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean, 
 A Wellington boot and a bamboo cane. 
 
 And Fred (entitled to all things there) 
 He took the fever from Mr. Vollaire, 
 Which killed poor Frederick West. Mean- 
 while 
 Vollaire sailed off to Madeira's isle. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS. 
 
 I sing a legend of the sea, 
 So hard a-port upon your lee ! 
 
 A ship on starboard tack ! 
 She's bound upon a private cruise — 
 (This is the kind of spice I use 
 
 To give a salt-sea smack). 
 
 Behold, on every afternoon 
 
 (Save in a gale or strong Monsoon) 
 
 Great Captain Capel Cleggs 
 (Great morally, though rather short) 
 Sat at an open weather-port 
 And aired his shapely legs. 
 
 And mermaids hung around in flocks, 
 On cable chains and distant rocks, 
 To gaze upon those limbs ; 
 
THECAPTAINANDTHE MERMAIDS. II 
 
 For legs like those, of flesh and bone, 
 Are things " not generally known " 
 To any Merman Timbs. 
 
 But Mermen didn't seem to care 
 Much time (as far as I'm aware) 
 
 With Cleggs's legs to spend ; 
 Though Mermaids swam around all day 
 And gazed, exclaiming, " Thai's the way 
 
 A gentleman should end ! 
 
 " A pair of legs with well-cut knees, 
 And calves and ankles such as these 
 
 Which we in rapture hail, 
 Are far more eloquent, it's clear 
 (When clothed in silk and kerseymere), 
 
 Than any nasty tail." 
 
 And Cleggs — a worthy kind old boy — 
 
 Rejoiced to add to other's joy, 
 And, when the day was dry, 
 
 Because it pleased the lookers-on. 
 
 He sat from morn till night— though con- 
 stitutionally shy. 
 
 At first the Mermen laughed, " Pooh ! pooh ! 
 But finally they jealous grew, 
 
 And sounded loud recalls ; 
 But vainly. So these fishy males 
 Declared they too would clothe their tails 
 
 In silken hose and smalls. 
 
 They set to work, these water-men, 
 And made their nether robes— but when 
 
They drew with dainty touch 
 The kerseymere upon their tails, 
 They found it scraped against their scales, 
 
 And hurt them very much. 
 
 The silk, besides, with which they chose 
 To deck their tails by way of hose 
 
 (They never thought of shoon), 
 For such a use was much too thin, — 
 It tore against the caudal fin, 
 
 And " went in ladders " soon. 
 
 So they designed another plan : 
 They sent their most seductive man 
 
 This note to him to show — 
 " Our Monarch sends to Captain Cleggs 
 His humble compliments, and begs 
 
 He'll join him down below ; 
 
 " We've pleasant homes below the sea — 
 Besides, if Captain Cleggs should be 
 
 (As our advices say) 
 A judge of Mermaids, he will find 
 Our lady-fish of every kind 
 
 Inspection will repay." 
 
 Good Capei. sent a kind reply, 
 For Capel thought he could descry 
 
 An admirable plan 
 To study all their ways and laws — 
 (But not their lady-fish, because. 
 
 He was a married man). 
 
THE C A P T A I N A N D THE M E KM A IDS. I ] 
 
 The Merman sank— the Captain too . 
 Jumped overboard, and dropped from view 
 
 Like stone from catapult ; 
 And when he reached the Merman's lair, 
 He certainly was welcome there, 
 
 But, ah ! with what result ? 
 
 They didn't let him learn their law, 
 Or make a note of what he saw. 
 
 Or interesting- mem. : 
 The lady-fish he couldn"t find, 
 But that, of course, he didn't mind — 
 
 He didnt come for them. 
 For though when Captain Capel sank, 
 The Mermen drawn in double rank 
 
 Gave him a hearty hail, 
 Yet when secure of Captain Cleggs, 
 They cutoff both his lovely legs, 
 
 And gave him stick a tail ! 
 When Captain Cleggs returned aboard, 
 His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd 
 
 To see him altered so, 
 The Admiralty did insist 
 That he upon the Half-pay List 
 
 Immediately should go. 
 In vain declared the poor old salt, 
 "It's my misfortune — not my fault," 
 
 With tear and trembling lip- 
 In vain poor Capel begged and begged, 
 "A man must be completely legged 
 
 Who rules a British ship." 
 
Il6 T H E 15 A 15 H A L L A D S. 
 
 So spake the stern First Lord aloud — 
 He was a wag, though very proud, 
 
 And much rejoiced to say, 
 " You're only half a captain now — 
 And so, my worthy friend, I vow 
 
 You'll only get half-pay ! " 
 
 ANNIE PROTHEROE. 
 
 A LEGEND OF STRATKOKD-LE-BOW. 
 
 Oh ! listen to the tale of little Annie 
 Protheroe. 
 
 She kept a small post-office in the neighbour- 
 hood of Bow ; 
 
 She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous 
 in his day — 
 
 A gentle executioner whose name was Gilbert 
 Clay. 
 
 I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for 
 
 your rhymes ! " 
 O reader, do not shrink— he didn't live in 
 
 modern times ! 
 He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at 
 
 a glance) 
 That all his actions glitter with the lime-light 
 
 of Romance. 
 
 In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft 
 all day — 
 
ANNIE PKOTHEROE. 1 1 7 
 
 "No doubt you mean his Cal-craft," you 
 
 musingly will say— 
 " But no — he didn't operate with common bits 
 
 of string. 
 He was a Public Headsman, which is quite 
 
 another thing. 
 
 And when his work was over, they would 
 
 ramble o'er the lea, 
 And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry 
 
 tree. 
 And Annie's simple prattle entertained him on 
 
 his walk 
 For public executions formed the subject of 
 
 her talk. 
 
 And sometimes he'd explain to her, which 
 
 charmed her very much, 
 How famous operators vary very much in 
 
 touch. 
 And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself 
 
 performed the trick, 
 And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a 
 
 stick. 
 
 Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at 
 home, and look 
 
 At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book, 
 
 And then her cheek would flush — her swim- 
 ming eyes would dance with joy 
 
 In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her 
 boy. 
 
110 THEBABBALLADS. 
 
 One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle 
 Gilbert said 
 
 (As he helped his pretty Annie to a slice of col- 
 lared head), 
 
 " This reminds me I must settle on the next 
 ensuing day 
 
 The hash of that unmitigated villain Pete.: 
 Gray." 
 
 He saw his Annie tremble and he saw his An- 
 nie start, 
 
 Her changing colour trumpeted the nutter at 
 her heart ; 
 
 Young Gilbert's manly bosom rose and sank 
 with jealous fear, 
 
 And he said, " O gentle Annie, what's the 
 meaning of this here ? " 
 
 And Annie answered, blushing in an interest- 
 ing way, 
 
 "You think, no doubt, I*m sighing for that 
 felon Peter Gray ! 
 
 That I was his young woman is unquestionably 
 true, 
 
 But not since I began a-keeping company with 
 you." 
 
 Then Gilbert, who was irritable, rose and 
 loudly swore 
 
 He'd know the reason why if she refused to 
 tell him more ; 
 
 And she answered (all the woman in her flash- 
 ing from her eyes), 
 
ANNIEPROTHEROE. Iig 
 
 "You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't 
 be told no lies ! 
 
 " Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my 
 
 dear, by you, 
 Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering 
 
 him too ! 
 Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely 
 
 take your fill ! " 
 And Gilbert ground his molars as he answered 
 
 her, "I will!" 
 
 Young Gilbert rose from table with a stern, 
 determined look, 
 
 And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet 
 from its hook ; 
 
 And Annie watched his movements with an in- 
 terested air— 
 
 For the morrow — for the morrow he was going 
 to prepare ! 
 
 He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped 
 it with a bill, 
 
 He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, un- 
 til 
 
 This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law 
 
 Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated 
 saw. 
 
 And Annie said, " O Gilbert, dear, I do not 
 
 understand 
 Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your 
 
 hand ? " 
 
120 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 He said, " It is intended for to lacerate and flay 
 The neck of that unmitigated villain Peter 
 Gray!" 
 
 " Now, Gilbert," Annie answered, "wicked 
 
 headsman, just beware — 
 I won't have Peter tortured with that horrible 
 
 affair ; 
 If you appear with that, you may depend you'll 
 
 rue the day." 
 But Gilbkrt said, "O shall I ?" which was 
 
 just his nasty way. 
 
 He sawa look of anger from her eyes distinctly 
 
 dart, 
 For Annie was a woman, and had pity in her 
 
 heart ! 
 She wished him a good evening — he answered 
 
 with a glare ; 
 She only said, "Remember, for your Annie 
 
 will be there ! " 
 
 The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold 
 
 took his stand, 
 With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in 
 
 his hand, 
 And all the people noticed that the Engine of 
 
 the Law 
 Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw. 
 
 The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his 
 stock, 
 
THE ENGINE OF THE LAW WAS FAR LESS L1K 
 A HATCHET THAN A DISSIPATED SAW." 
 
122 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 And placed his wicked head upon the handy \ 
 
 little block, 
 The hatchet was uplifted for to settle Peter 
 
 Gray, 
 When Gilbert plainly heard a woman's voiee 
 
 exclaiming, "Stay!" 
 'Twas Annie, gentle Annie, as you'll easily 
 
 believe. 
 "O Gilbert, you must spare him, for I bring 
 
 him a reprieve, 
 It came from our Home Secretary many weeks 
 
 ago, 
 And passed through that post-office which I 
 
 used to keep at Bow. 
 " I loved you, loved you madly, and you know 
 
 it, Gilbert Clay, 
 And as I'd quite surrendered all idea of Peter 
 
 Gray, 
 I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly under- 
 stand, 
 For I thought it might be awkward if he came 
 
 and claimed my hand. 
 " In anger at my secret (which I could not tell 
 
 before), 
 "To lacerate poor Peter Gray vindictively you 
 
 swore ; 
 I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd 
 
 rue the day, 
 .And so you will, young Gilbert, for I'll marry 
 
 Peter Gray ! " 
 
 [A nd so she did. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS. 123; 
 
 AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS. 
 
 I've painted Shakespeare all my life — 
 '' An infant " (even then at " play " !) 
 
 " A boy," with stage-ambition rife, 
 Then " married to Ann Hathaway." 
 
 " The bard's first ticket night " (or " ben."). 
 His " First appearance on the stage," 
 
 His " Call before the curtain "—then 
 " Rejoicings when he came of age." 
 
 The bard play-writing in his room, 
 The bard a humble lawyer's clerk, 
 
 The bard a lawyer 1 — parson 2 — groom 3 — 
 The bard deer-stealing, after dark. 
 
 The bard a tradesman 4 — and a Jew 5 — 
 The bard a botanist 6 — a beak 7 — 
 
 " Go with me to a notary — seal me there 
 Your single bond." 
 
 —Merchant of Venice, Act I., sc. 3. 
 
 " And there shall she, at Friar Lawrence' cell 
 Be shrived and married." < 
 
 — Romeo and Juliet, Act II., sc. 4. 
 
 " And give their fasting horses provender." 
 —Henry the Fifth, Act IV., sc. 2. 
 
 " Let us, like merchants, show our foulest 
 wares." 
 
 — Troihis and Cressida, Act L, sc. 3. 
 
 " Then must the Jew be merciful." 
 
 — Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc. 1. 
 
124 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 The bard a skilled musician 1 too — 
 A sheriff 2 and a surgeon 3 eke ! 
 
 Yet critics say (a friendly stock) 
 That, though it's evident I try, 
 
 Yet even / can barely mock 
 The glimmer of his wondrous eye ! 
 
 One morning as a work I framed, 
 
 There passed a person, walking hard : 
 
 *' My gracious goodness," I exclaimed, 
 " How very like my dear old bard ! 
 
 " Oh, what a model he would make ! " 
 I rushed outside— impulsive me ! — 
 
 " Forgive the liberty I take, 
 But you're so very"—" Stop ' " said he. 
 
 * " The spring, the summer, 
 
 The childing autumn, angry winter, change 
 Their wonted liveries." 
 Midsu7m7ier Night's Dreant x Act IV., sc. i. 
 
 7 " In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the 
 peace and coram.'" 
 — Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I., sc. i. 
 
 1 " What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? 
 
 — King John, Act. V., sc. 2. 
 
 2 " And I'll provide his executioner." 
 —Henry the Sixth (Second Part), Act III., sc. 1. 
 
 3 " The lioness had torn some flesh away 
 
 Which all this while had bled." 
 
 — As You Like It, Act IV., sc. 3. 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS. 125 
 
 " You needn't waste your breath or time, — 
 I know what you are going to say, — 
 
 That you're an artist, and that I'm 
 Remarkably like Shakespeare. Eh ? 
 
 " You wish that I would sit to you ? " 
 I clasped him madly round the waist, 
 
 And breathlessly replied, " I do ! " 
 "All right," said he, "but please make 
 haste." 
 
 I led him by his hallowed sleeve, 
 And worked away at him apace, 
 
 I painted him till dewy eve, — 
 There never was a nobler face ! 
 
 " Oh, sir," I said, " a fortune grand 
 Is yours, by dint of merest chance,— 
 
 To sport his brow at second-hand, 
 To wear his cast-off countenance ! 
 
 ■' To rub his eyes whene'er they ache — 
 To wear his baldness ere you're old — 
 
 To clean his teeth when you awake — 
 To blow his nose when you've a cold ! " 
 
 His eyeballs glistened in his eyes— 
 I sat and watched and smoked my pipe ; 
 
 " Bravo ! " I said, " I recognise 
 The phrensy of your prototype ! " 
 
 His scanty hair he wildly tore : 
 
 "That's right," said I, "it shows your 
 breed." 
 
126 THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 He danced — he stamped — he wildly swore — 
 "Bless me, that's very fine indeed ! " 
 
 " Sir," said the grand Shakesperian boy 
 
 (Continuing- to blaze away), 
 " You think my face a source of joy ; 
 
 That shows you know not what you say. 
 
 " Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps : 
 I'm always thrown in some such state 
 
 When on his face well-meaning chaps 
 This wretched man congratulate. 
 
 " For, oh ! this face— this pointed chin— 
 This nose— this brow— these eyeballs too, 
 
 Have always been the origin 
 Of all the woes I ever knew ! 
 
 " If to the play my way I find, 
 To see a grand Shakespearian piece, 
 
 I have no rest, no ease of mind 
 Until the author's puppets cease. 
 
 "Men nudge each other— thus— and say, 
 'This certainly is Shakespeare's son,' 
 
 And merry wags (of course in play ) 
 Cry ' Author ! ' when the piece is done. 
 
 " In church the people stare at me, 
 Their soul the sermon never binds : 
 
 I catch them looking round to see, 
 And thoughts of Shakespeare fill their 
 minds. 
 
THE KING OF CANOODL E-D U M. 127 
 
 " And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile, 
 
 Who find it difficult to crown 
 A bust with Brown's insipid smile, 
 
 Or Tomkins's unmannered frown, 
 
 "■ Yet boldly make my face their own 
 When (oh, presumption ! ) they require 
 
 To animate a paving-stone 
 With Shakespeare's intellectual fire. 
 
 " At parties where young ladies gaze, 
 
 And I attempt to speak my joy, 
 ' Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says, 
 
 ' The fond illusion don't destroy ! ' 
 
 " Whene'er I speak, my soul is wrung 
 With these or some such whisperings : 
 
 ' 'Tis pity that a Shakespeare's tongue 
 Should say such un-Shakespearian things ! ' 
 
 " I should not thus be criticised 
 
 Had I a face of common wont : 
 Don't envy me— now, be advised ! " 
 
 And, now I think of it, I don't ! 
 
 THE KING OF CANOODLE-DUM. 
 
 The story of Frederick Gowler, 
 
 A mariner of the sea, 
 Who quitted his ship, the Hoivler, 
 
 A-sailing in Caribbee. 
 For many a day he wandered. 
 
 Till he met in a state of rum 
 
Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop, 
 
 The King of Canoodle-Dum. 
 That monarch addressed him gaily, 
 
 " Hum ! Golly de do to-day ? 
 Hum ! Lily-white Buckra Sailee " — 
 
 (You notice his playful way ?) — 
 " What dickens you doin' here, sar? 
 
 Why debbil you want to come ? 
 Hum ! Picaninnee, dere isn't no sea 
 
 In City Canoodle-Dum ! " 
 
 And Gowler he answered sadly, 
 
 " Oh, mine is a doleful tale ! 
 They've treated me werry badly 
 
 In Lunnon, from where I hail. 
 I'm one of the Family Royal — 
 
 No common Jack Tar you see ; 
 I'm William the Fourth, far up in the 
 North, 
 
 A King in my own countree ! " 
 
 Bang-bang ! How the tom-toms thun- 
 dered ! 
 Bang-bang ! How they thumped the 
 gongs ! 
 Bang-bang ! How the people wondered ! 
 Bang-bang ! At it hammer and tongs ! 
 Alliance with Kings of Europe 
 
 Is an honour Canoodlers seek, 
 Her monarchs don't stop with Peppermint 
 Drop 
 Every day in the week ! 
 
THE KING O t' CANOODI, E-D U M. I2g 
 
 Fred told them that he was undone, 
 
 For his people all went insane, 
 And fired the Tower of London, 
 
 And Grinnidge's Naval Fane. 
 And some of them racked St. James's, 
 
 And vented their rage upon 
 The Church of St. Paul, the Fishmonger's 
 Hall, 
 
 And the Angel at Islington. 
 
 Calamity Pop implored him 
 
 In his capital to remain 
 Till those people of his restored him 
 
 To power and rank again. 
 Calamity Pop he made him 
 
 A prince of Canoodle-Dum, 
 With a couple of caves, some beautiful 
 slaves, 
 
 And the run of the royal rum. 
 
 Pop gave him his only daughter 
 
 Hum Pickety Wimple Tip : 
 Fred vowed that if over the water 
 
 He went, in an English ship, 
 He'd make her his Queen, — though truly 
 
 It is an unusual thing 
 For a Caribbee brat who's as black as your 
 hat 
 
 To be wife of an English King. 
 
 And all the Canoodle-Dummers 
 They copied his rolling walk, 
 
His method of draining rummers, 
 
 His emblematical talk. 
 For his dress and his graceful breeding, 
 
 His delicate taste in rum, 
 And his nautical way, were the talk of the 
 day 
 
 In the Court of Canoodle-Dum. 
 
 Calamity Pop most wisely 
 
 Determined in everything 
 To model his Court precisely 
 
 On that of the English King ; 
 And ordered that every lady 
 
 And every lady's lord 
 Should masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy), 
 
 And scatter its juice abroad. 
 
 They signified wonder roundly 
 
 At any astounding yarn, 
 By darning their dear eyes roundly 
 
 ('Twas all they had to darn). 
 They " hoisted their slacks," adjusting 
 
 Garments of plaintain-leaves 
 With nautical twitches (as if they were 
 breeches, 
 
 Instead of a dress like Eve's !) 
 
 They shivered their timbers proudly, 
 At a phantom forelock dragged, 
 
 And called for a hornpipe loudly 
 Whenever amusement flagged. 
 
 " Hum ! Golly ! him Pop resemble, 
 Him Britisher sov'reign, hum ! 
 
NONE OF THEM Wfa.PT FOR THEIR FREDDY 
 EXCEPT HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP.' ? 
 
BALLADS. 
 
 Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop, 
 De King of Canoodle-Dum ! " 
 
 The mariner's lively " Hollo ! " 
 
 Enlivened Canoodle's plain 
 (For blessings unnumbered follow 
 
 In Civilisation's train). 
 But Fortune, who loves a bathos, 
 
 A terrible ending planned, 
 For Admiral D. Chickabiddy, C.B,, 
 
 Placed foot on Canoodle land ! 
 
 That rebel, he seized King Gowlek, 
 
 He threatened his royal brains, 
 And put him aboard the Howler, 
 
 And fastened him down with chains. 
 The Howler she weighed her anchor, 
 
 With Frederick nicely nailed, 
 And off to the North with William \y 
 Fourth 
 
 These horrible pirates sailed. 
 
 Calamity said (with folly), 
 
 " Hum ! nebber want him again— '" 
 Him civilise all of us, golly ! 
 
 Calamity suck him brain ! " 
 The people, however, were pained when 
 
 They saw him aboard his ship, 
 But none of them wept for their Freddv 
 except 
 
 Hum Pickety Wimple Tip. 
 
THE MARTINET. 
 
 Some time ago. in simple verse 
 
 I sang the story true 
 Of Captain Reece, the Mantelpiece, 
 
 And all her happy crew. 
 
 I showed how any captain may 
 
 Attach his men to him, 
 If he but heeds their smallest needs. 
 
 And studies every whim. 
 
 Now mark how, by Draconic rule 
 
 And hauteur ill-advised, 
 The noblest crew upon the Blue 
 
 May be demoralised. 
 
 When his ungrateful country placed 
 
 Kind Reece upon half-pay, 
 Without much claim Sir Berkely came. 
 
 And took command one day. 
 
 Sir Berkely was a martinet, 
 
 A stern unyielding soul— 
 Who ruled his ship by dint of whip' 
 
 And horrible black-hole. 
 
 A sailor who was overcome 
 
 From having freely dined, 
 And chanced to reel when at the wheel 
 
 He instantly confined ! 
 
 And tars who, when an action raged. 
 Appeared alarmed or scared, 
 
J. THE 'BAB BALLADS. 
 
 And those below who wished lo go, 
 He very seldom spared. 
 
 E'en he who smote his officer 
 
 For punishment was booked, 
 And mutinies upon the seas 
 
 He rarely overlooked. 
 
 In short, the happy Mantelpiece, 
 
 Where all had gone so well, 
 Beneath that fool Sir Berkely's rule 
 
 Became a floating hell. 
 
 When first Sir Berkely came aboard 
 
 He read a speech to all, 
 And told them how he'd made a vow 
 
 To act on duty s call. 
 
 Then William Lee, he up and said 
 
 (The Captain's coxswain he), 
 " We've heard the speech your honour's 
 made, 
 
 And werry pleased we be. 
 
 " We won't pretend, my lad, as how 
 We're glad to loose our Reece ; 
 
 Urbane, polite, he suited quite 
 The saucy Mantelpiece. 
 
 ■*' But if your honour gives your mind 
 
 To study all our ways, 
 With dance and song we'll jog along 
 
 As in those happy days. 
 
 
THE MARTINET. 13; 
 
 •' 1 like your honour's looks, and feel 
 You're worthy of your sword. 
 
 Your hand, my lad — I'm doosid glad 
 To welcome you aboard ! " 
 
 Sir Berkely looked amazed, as though 
 
 He didn't understand. 
 " Don't shake your head," good Williaiv 
 
 said, 
 " It is an honest hand. 
 
 " It's grasped a better hand than yourn — 
 
 Come, gov'nor, I insist ! " 
 The Captain stared — the coxswain glared— 
 
 The hand became a fist. 
 
 " Down, upstart ! " said the hardy salt ; 
 
 But Berkely dodged his aim, 
 And made him go in chains below : 
 
 The seamen muttered, u Shame ! " 
 He stopped all songs at 12 p. m., 
 
 Stopped hornpipes when at sea, 
 And swore his cot (or bunk) should not 
 
 Be used by aught than lie. 
 He never joined their daily mess, 
 
 Nor asked them to his own, 
 But chaffed in gay and social way 
 
 The officers alone. 
 His First Lieutenant, Peter, was 
 
 As useless as could he, 
 A helpless stick, and always sick 
 
 When there was any sea. 
 
3 THEBABBALLADS. 
 
 This First Lieutenant proved to be 
 
 His foster-sister May, 
 Who went to sea for love of he, 
 
 In masculine array. 
 
 And when he learnt the curious fact, 
 
 Did he emotion show, 
 Or dry her tears or end her fears 
 
 By marrying her ? No ! 
 
 Or did he even try to soothe 
 This maiden in her teens ? 
 
 Oh, no ! — instead he made her wed 
 The Sergeant of Marines ! 
 
 Of course such Spartan discipline 
 Would make an angel fret ; 
 
 They drew a lot, and William shot 
 This fearful martinet. 
 
 The Admiralty saw how ill 
 They'd treated Captain Reece ; 
 
 He was restored once more aboard 
 The saucy Mantelpiece. 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY TO HIS LAS3 
 I go away this blessed day, 
 
 To sail across the sea, Matilda ! 
 My vessel starts for various parts 
 
 At twenty after three, Matilda. 
 I hardly know where we may go, 
 
 Or if it's near or far, Matilda, 
 
THE SAILOR B O V T O HIS LASS. 13; 
 
 For Captain Hyde does not confide 
 In any 'foremast tar, Matilda ! 
 
 Beneath my ban that mystic man 
 
 Shall suffer, coitte qui coiite, Matilda ! 
 What right has he to keep from me 
 
 The Admiralty route, Matilda ? 
 Because, forsooth ! I am a youth 
 
 Of common sailors' lot, Matilda ! 
 Am I a man on human plan 
 
 Designed, or am I not, Matilda ? 
 
 But there, my lass, we'll let that pass ! 
 
 With anxious love I burn, Matilda. 
 I want to know if we shall go 
 
 To church when I return, Matilda ? 
 Your eyes are red, you bow your head : 
 
 It's pretty clear you thirst, Matilda, 
 To name the day — What's that you say ? 
 
 — " You'll see me further first, " Matilda 
 
 I can't mistake the signs you make, 
 Although you barely speak, Matilda : 
 
 Though pure and young, you thrust you 
 tongue 
 
 Right in your pretty cheek, Matilda ! 
 
 My dear, I fear I hear you sneer — 
 I do — I'm sure I do, Matilda ! 
 
 With simple grace you make a face, 
 Ejaculating, " Ugh ! " Matilda. 
 
 Oh, pause to think before you drink 
 The dregs of Lethe's cup, Matilda ! 
 
Remember, do, what I've gone through, 
 Before you give me up, Matilda ! 
 
 Recall again the mental pain 
 Of what I've had to do, Matilda ! 
 
 And be assured that I've endured 
 It, all along of you, Matilda ! 
 
 Do you forget, my blithesome pet, 
 
 How once with jealous rage, Matilda, 
 I watched you walk and gaily talk 
 
 With some one twice your age, Matilda ? 
 You squatted free upon his knee, 
 
 A sight that made me sad, Matilda ! 
 You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak, 
 
 Which almost drove me mad, Matilda ! 
 
 I knew him not, but hoped to spot 
 
 Some man you thought to wed, Matilda ! 
 I took a gun, my darling one, 
 
 And shot him through the head, Matilda 
 I'm made of stuff that's rough and gruff 
 
 Enough, I own ; but, ah, Matilda ! 
 It did annoy your sailor boy 
 
 To find it was your pa, Matilda. 
 
 I've passed a life of toil and strife, 
 
 And disappointments deep, Matilda ; 
 I've lain awake with dental ache 
 
 Until I fell asleep, Matilda ! 
 At times again I've missed a train, 
 
 Or p'r'aps run"short of tin, Matilda, 
 And worn a boot on corns that shoot, 
 
 Or, shaving cut my chin, Matilda. 
 
THE SAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS. I 
 
 But, oh ! no trains — no dental pains — 
 
 Believe me when I say, Matilda, 
 No corns that shoot — no pinching boot 
 
 Upon a summer day, Matilda — 
 It's my belief, could cause such grief 
 
 As that I've suffered for, Matilda, 
 My having shot in vital spot 
 
 Your old progenitor, Matilda. 
 
 Bethink you how I've kept the vow 
 
 I made one winter day, Matilda— 
 That, come what could, I never would 
 
 Remain too long away, Matilda. 
 And, oh ! the crimes with which, at times,. 
 
 I've charged my gentle mind, Matilda, 
 To keep the vow I made — and now 
 
 You treat me so unkind, Matilda ! 
 
 For when at sea off Caribbee, 
 
 I felt my passion burn, Matilda, 
 By passion egged, I went and begged 
 
 The captain to return, Matilda. 
 And when, my pet, I couldn't get 
 
 That captain to agree, Matilda, 
 Right through a sort of open port 
 
 I pitched him in the sea, Matilda ! 
 
 Remember, too, how all the crew 
 With indignation blind, Matilda, 
 
 Distinctly swore they ne'er before 
 
 Had thought me so unkind. Matilda. 
 
And how they'd shun me one by one — 
 An unforgiving group, Matilda — 
 
 I stopped their howls and sulky scowls 
 By pizening their soup, Matilda. 
 
 So pause to think, before you drink 
 
 The dregs of Lethe's cup, Matilda ; 
 Remember, do, what I've gone through, 
 
 Before you give me up, Matilda. 
 Recall again the mental pain 
 
 Of what I've had to do, Matilda, 
 And be assured that I've endured 
 
 It all along of you, Matilda. 
 
 THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS, 
 
 A rich advowson, highly prized, 
 For private sale was advertised ; 
 And many a parson made a bid ; 
 The Reverend Simon Magus did. 
 
 He sought the agent's : " Agent, I 
 Have come prepared at once to buy 
 (If your demand is not too big) 
 The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the agent, " there's a. birth- 
 
 The snuggest vicaracre on earth ; 
 
 No sort of duty (so I hear). 
 
 And fifteen hundred pounds a year. 
 
 " If on the price we should agree 
 
 The living soon will vacant be ; 
 
THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS. 141 
 
 The good incumbent's ninety-five, 
 And cannot very long survive. 
 
 " See— here's his photograph— you see, 
 He's in his dotage." "Ah, dear me ! 
 Poor soul ! " said Simon. " His decease 
 Would be a merciful release ! " 
 
 The agent laughed— the agent blinked— 
 The agent blew his nose and winked— 
 And poked the parson's ribs in play- 
 It was that agent's vulgar way. 
 
 The Reverend Simon frowned : " I grieve 
 This light demeanour to perceive, 
 It's scarcely comme ilfaut, I think : 
 Now— pray oblige me— do not wink. 
 
 " Don't dig my waistcoat into holes — 
 Your mission is to sell the souls 
 Of human sheep and human kids 
 To that divine who highest bids. 
 
 " Do well in this, and on your head 
 Unnumbered honours will be shed." 
 The agent said, "Well, truth to tell, 
 I have been doing very well.* 1 
 
 "You should," said Simon, "at your age ; 
 But now about the parsonage. 
 How many rooms does it contain ? 
 Show me the photograph again. 
 " A poor apostle's humble house 
 Must not be too luxurious ; 
 
2 THE 'BAB BALLADS. 
 
 No stately halls with oaken floor — 
 It should be decent and no more. 
 
 "No billiard rooms— no stately trees- 
 No croquet-grounds or pineries." 
 " Ah ! sighed the agent, " very true : 
 This property won't do for you." 
 
 " All these about the house you'll find."- 
 
 " Well," said the parson, "never mind ; 
 
 I'll manage to submit to these 
 
 Luxurious superfluities. 
 
 " A clergyman who does not shirk 
 
 The various calls of Christian work, 
 
 Will have no leisure to employ 
 
 These ' common forms ' of worldly joy. 
 
 "To preach three times on Sabbath days — 
 
 To wean the lost from wicked ways— 
 
 The sick to soothe— the sane to wed — 
 
 The poor to feed with meat and bread ; 
 
 " These are the various wholesome ways 
 
 In which I'll spend my nights and days : 
 
 My zeal will have no time to cool 
 
 At croquet, archery, or pool." 
 
 The agent said, "From what I hear, 
 
 This living will not suit, I fear — 
 
 There are no poor, no sick at all ; 
 
 For services there is no call." 
 
 The reverend gent looked grave. "Dear 
 
 me ! 
 Then there is no ' society ' ? — 
 
I mean, of course, no sinners there 
 Whose souls will be my special care ? " 
 
 The cunning agent shook his head, 
 " No, none— except " — (the agent said) — 
 " The Duke of A., the Earl of B., 
 The Marquis C, and Viscount D. 
 
 " But you will not be quite alone, 
 For though they've chaplains of their own, 
 Of course this noble well-bred clan 
 Receive the parish clergyman.'' 
 
 " Oh, silence, sir-! " said Simon M., 
 
 " Dukes — Earls ! — What should I care for 
 
 them ? 
 These worldly ranks I scorn and flout ! " 
 " Of course," the agent said, " no doubt ! '' 
 
 " Yet I might show these men of birth 
 The hollowness of rank on earth." 
 The agent answered, " Very true — 
 But I should not, if I were you."' 
 
 " Who sells this rich advowson, pray ? " 
 The agent winked — it was his way — 
 " His name is Hart ; 'twixt me and you, 
 He is, I'm grieved to say, a Jew ! " 
 
 " A Jew ? ' 1 said Simon, " happy find ! 
 I purchase this advowson, mind. 
 My life shall be devoted to 
 Converting that unhappy Jew ! " 
 
BALLADS. 
 
 MY DREAM. 
 
 The other night, from cares exempt, 
 I slept — and what d'you think I dreamt ? 
 I dreamt that somehow I had come 
 To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom— 
 
 Where vice is virtue — virtue, vice . 
 Where nice is nasty — nasty, nice : 
 Where right is wrong and wrong is right, 
 Where white is black and black is white. 
 
 Where babies, much to their surprise, 
 Are born astonishingly wise ; 
 With every Science on their lips, 
 And Art at all their finger-tips. 
 
 For, as their nurses dandle them 
 They crow binomial theorem, 
 With views (it seems absurd to us) 
 On differential calculus. 
 
 But though a babe, as I have said, 
 Is born with learning in his head, 
 He must forget it, if he can, 
 Before he calls himself a man. 
 
 For that which we call folly here, 
 Is wisdom in that favoured sphere ; 
 The wisdom we so highly prize 
 Is blatant folly in their eyes. 
 
 A boy, if he would push his way, 
 Must learn some nonsense every day ; 
 
 
And cut, to carry out his view, 
 His wisdom teeth and wisdom too. 
 
 Historians burn their midnight oils, 
 Intent on giant-killers' toils ; 
 And sages close their aged eyes 
 To other sages' lullabies. 
 
 Our magistrates, in duty bound, 
 Commit all robbers who are found ; 
 But there the Beaks (so people said) 
 Commit all robberies instead. 
 
 Our Judges, pure and wise in tone, 
 Know crime from theory alone, 
 And glean the motives of a thief 
 From books and popular belief. 
 
 But there, a Judge who wants to prime 
 His mind with true ideas of crime, 
 Derives them from the common sense 
 Of practical experience. 
 Policemen march all folks away 
 Who practise virtue every day — 
 Of course, I mean to say, you know, 
 What we call virtue here below. 
 
 For only scoundrels dare to do 
 What we consider just and true, 
 And only good men do, in fact. 
 What we should think a dirty act. 
 
 But strangest of these social twirls, 
 The girls are boys — the boys are girls ! 
 
5 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 The men are women, too — but then, 
 Per contra, women all are men. 
 
 To one who to tradition clings 
 
 This seems an awkward state of things, 
 
 But if to think it out you try, 
 
 It doesn't really signify. 
 
 With them, as surely as can be, 
 
 A sailor should be sick at sea, 
 
 And not a passenger may sail 
 
 Who cannot smoke right through a gale. 
 
 A soldier (save by rarest luck) 
 Is always shot for showing pluck 
 (That is, if others can be found 
 With pluck enough to fire a round). 
 
 " How strange ! " I said to one I saw ; 
 " You quite upset our every law. 
 However can you get along 
 So systematically wrong ? " 
 
 "Dear me ! " my mad informant said, 
 " Have you no eyes within your head ? 
 You sneer when you your hat should doff: 
 Why, we begin where you leave off ! 
 
 "Your wisest men are very far 
 Less learned that our babies are ! " 
 I mused awhile — and then, oh me ! 
 I framed this brilliant repartee : 
 
 " Although your babes are wiser far 
 Than our most valued sag-es are, 
 
THE BISHOP OF RT M-T I-F O O AGAIN. 
 
 ^our sages, with their toys and cots, 
 Are duller than our idiots ! " 
 
 But this remark, I grieve to state, 
 Came just a little bit too late ; 
 For as I framed it in my head, 
 I woke and found myself in bed. 
 
 Still I could wish that, 'stead of here, 
 My lot were in that favoured sphere ! — 
 Where greatest fools bear off the bell 
 I ought to do extremely well. 
 
 THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN. 
 
 I often wonder whether you 
 
 Think sometimes of that Bishop, who 
 
 From black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo 
 
 Last summer twelvemonth came. 
 Unto your mind I pVaps may bring 
 Remembrance of the man I sing 
 To-day, by simply mentioning 
 
 That Peter was his name. 
 
 Remember how that holy man 
 Came with the great Colonial clan 
 To Synod, called Pan-Anglican ; 
 
 And kindly recollect 
 How, having crossed the ocean wide 
 To please his flock all means he tried 
 Consistent with a proper pride 
 
 And manly self-respect. 
 
He only, of the reverend pack 
 Who minister to Christians black, 
 Brought any useful knowledge back 
 
 To his Colonial fold. 
 In consequence a place I claim 
 For " Peter " on the scroll of Fame 
 ( For Peter was that Bishop's name, 
 
 As I've already told). 
 
 He carried Art, he often said, 
 To places where that timid maid 
 (Save by Colonial Bishops 1 aid) 
 
 Could never hope to roam. 
 The Payne-cum-Lauri feat he taught 
 As he had learnt it ; for he thought 
 The choicest fruits of Progress ought 
 
 To bless the Negro's home. 
 
 And he had other work to do, 
 
 For, while he tossed upon the Blue, 
 
 The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo 
 
 Forgot their kindly friend. 
 Their decent clothes they learnt to tear— 
 They learnt to say, " I do not care," 
 Though they, of course, were well aware 
 
 How folks, who say so, end. 
 Some sailors, whom he did not know, 
 Had landed there not long ago, 
 And taught them " Bother ! " also lk Blow! ' 
 
 (Of wickedness the germs.) 
 No need to use a casuist's pen 
 To prove that they were merchantmen ; 
 
THE BISHOP OF R U M-T I-F O O , 
 
 No sailer of the Royal N. 
 
 Would use such awful terms. 
 And so, when Bishop Peter came 
 (That was the kindly Bishop's name), 
 He heard these dreadful oaths with shame, 
 
 And chid their want of dress. 
 
 IN PETERS LEFT-OFF CLOTHES. 
 
 (Except a shell — a bangle rare — 
 A feather here — a feather there — 
 The South Pacific Negroes wear 
 
 Their native nothingness.) 
 He taught them that a Bishop loathes 
 To listen to disgraceful oaths, 
 He gave them all his left-off clothes — 
 
 They bent them to his will. 
 
[50 THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 The Bishop's gift spreads quickly round ; 
 In Peter's left-off clothes they bound 
 (His three-and-twenty suits they found 
 In fair condition still). 
 
 The Bishop's eyes with water fill, 
 Quite overjoyed to find them still 
 Obedient to his sovereign will, 
 
 And said, " Good Rum-ti-Foo ! 
 Half-way I'll meet you, I declare : 
 I'll dress myself in cowries rare, 
 And fasten feathers in my hair, 
 
 And dance the ' Cutch-chi-boo [ "' * 
 
 And to conciliate his See 
 He married Piccadillillee, 
 The youngest of his twenty-three, 
 
 Tall — neither fat nor thin. 
 (And though the dress he made her don 
 Looks awkwardly a girl upon, 
 It was a great improvement on 
 
 The one he found her in.) 
 
 The Bishop in his gay canoe 
 
 (His wife, of course, went with him too) 
 
 To some adjacent island flew, 
 
 To spend his honeymoon. 
 Some day in sunny Rum-ti-Foo 
 A little Peter '11 be on view ; 
 And that (if people tell me true) 
 
 Is like to happen soon. 
 
 * Described by Mungo Park. 
 
TH E H A UGHTY A CTO R. 151 
 
 THE HAUGHTY ACTOR. 
 
 An actor — Gibbs, of Drury Lane — 
 
 Of very decent station, 
 Once happened in a part to gain 
 
 Excessive approbation : 
 It sometimes turns a fellow's brain 
 And makes him singularly vain 
 When he believes that he receives 
 
 Tremendous approbation. 
 
 His great success half drove him mad, 
 But no one seemed to mind him ; 
 
 Well, in another piece he had 
 Another part assigned him. 
 
 This part was smaller, by a bit, 
 
 Than that in which he made a hit. 
 
 So, much ill-used, he straight refused 
 
 To play the part assigned him. 
 
 That night that actor slept, and V 11 attempt 
 To tell you of the vivid dream he dreamt. 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 In fighting with a robber band 
 
 (A thing he loved sincerely) 
 A sword struck Gibbs upon the hand 
 
 And wounded it severely. 
 At first he didn't heed it much, 
 He thought it was a simple touch, 
 But soon he found the weapon's bound 
 
 Had wounded him severely. 
 
!52 THE "BAB BALLADS. 
 
 To Surgeon Cobb he made a trip, 
 
 Who'd just effected featly 
 An amputation at the hip 
 
 Particularly neatly. 
 A rising man was Surgeon Cobb, 
 But this extremely ticklish job 
 He had achieved (as he believed) 
 
 Particularly neatly. 
 The actor rang the surgeon's bell. 
 
 " Observe my wounded finger, 
 Be good enough to strap it well, 
 
 And prithee do not linger. 
 That I, dear sir, may fill again 
 The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane .- 
 This very night I have to fight — 
 
 So prithee do not linger." 
 
 " I don't strap fingers up for doles," 
 Replied the haughty surgeon ; 
 
 " To use your cant, I don't play roles 
 Utility that verge on. 
 
 ' First amputation ' — nothing less — 
 
 That is my line of business : 
 We surgeon nobs despise all jobs 
 Utility that verge on. 
 
 "When in your hip there lurks disease " 
 (So dreamt this lively dreamer), 
 
 ' l Or devastating caries 
 In humerus or femur, 
 
 If you can pay a handsome fee, 
 
 Oh, then you may remember me— 
 
THEHAUGHTY ACTOR. I J 
 
 With joy elate I'll amputate 
 
 Your humerus or femur." 
 The disconcerted actor ceased 
 
 The haughty leech to pester, 
 But when the wound in size increased, 
 
 And then began to fester, 
 He sought a learned Counsel's lair. 
 And told that Counsel then and there, 
 How Cobb's neglect of his defect 
 
 Had made his finger fester. 
 " Oh, bring my action, if you please, 
 
 The case I pray you urge on, 
 And win me thumping damages 
 
 From Cobb, that haughty surgeon. 
 He culpably neglected me 
 Although I proffered him his fee, 
 So pray come down, in wig and gown, 
 
 On Cobb, that haughty surgeon ! " 
 
 That Counsel learned in the laws, 
 With passion almost trembled. 
 
 He just had gained a mighty cause 
 Before the Peers assembled ! 
 
 Said he, " How dare you have the face 
 
 To come with Common Jury case 
 To one who wings rhetoric flings 
 Before the Peers assembled ? " 
 
 Dispirited became our friend — 
 Depressed his moral pecker — 
 
 " But stay ! a thought ! I'll gain my end,. 
 And save my poor exchequer. 
 
[54 THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 I won't be placed upon the shelf, 
 I'll take it into Court myself, 
 And legal lore display before 
 
 The Court of the Exchequer." 
 He found- a Baron— one of those — 
 
 Who with our laws supply us — 
 In wig and silken gown and hose, 
 
 As if at Nisi Prius. 
 But he'd just given, off the reel, 
 A famous judgment on Appeal: 
 It scarce became his heightened fame 
 
 To sit at Nisi Prius. 
 Our friend began, with easy wit, 
 
 That half concealed his terror : 
 " Pooh ! " said the Judge, " I only sit 
 
 In Banco or in Error. 
 Can you suppose, my man, that I'd 
 O'er Nisi Prius Courts preside, 
 Or condescend my time to spend 
 
 On anything but Error ? " 
 " Too bad," said Gibbs, " my case to shirk ! 
 
 You must be bad innately, 
 To save your skill for mighty work 
 
 Because it's valued greatly ! " 
 But here he woke, with sudden start. 
 
 He wrote to say he'd play the part. 
 I've but to tell he played it well — 
 The author's words — his native wit 
 Combined, achieved a perfect " hit " — 
 The papers praised him greatly. 
 
THE TWO MAJORS. 155 
 
 THE TWO MAJORS. 
 An excellent soldier who's worthy the name 
 
 Loves officers dashing and strict : 
 When good, he's content with escaping all 
 blame, 
 
 When naughty, he likes to be licked. 
 He likes for a fault to be bullied and stormed. 
 
 Or imprisoned for several days, 
 And hates for a duty correctly performed, 
 
 To be slavered with sickening praise. 
 No officer sickened with praises his corps 
 
 So little as Major La Guerre — 
 No officer swore at his warriors more 
 
 Than Major Makredi Prepere. 
 Their soldiers adored them, and every grade 
 
 Delighted to hear their abuse ; 
 Though whenever these officers came on 
 parade 
 
 They shivered and shook in their shoes. 
 For oh ! if La Guerre could all praises with- 
 hold, 
 
 Why, so could Makredi Prepere, 
 And oh ! if Makredi could bluster and scold, 
 
 Why, so could the mighty La Guerre. 
 
 No doubt we deserve it— no mercy we 
 crave — 
 
 Go on — you're conferring a boon ; 
 |We would rather be slanged by a warrior 
 brave, 
 
 Than praised by a wretched poltroon ! " 
 
156 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 Makredi would say that in battle's fierce rage 
 
 True happiness only was met : 
 Poor Major Makredi, though fifty his age, 
 
 Had never known happiness yet ! 
 
 La Guerre would declare, " With the blood of 
 a foe 
 
 No tipple is worthy to clink." 
 Poor fellow ! he hadn't, though sixty or so, 
 
 Yet tasted his favourite drink ! 
 
 They agreed at their mess — they agreed in the 
 glass— 
 
 They agreed in the choice of their " set," 
 And also agreed in adoring, alas ! 
 
 The Vivandiere, pretty Fillette. 
 
 Agreement, you see, may be carried too far, 
 
 And after agreeing all round 
 For years— in this soldierly " maid of the bar," 
 
 A bone of contention they found ! 
 
 It may seem improper to call such a pet — 
 
 By a metaphor, even— a bone ; 
 But though they agreed in adoring her, yet 
 
 Each wanted to make her his own. 
 
 "On the day that you marry her," muttered 
 Prepere 
 
 (With a pistol he quietly played), 
 " I'll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear, 
 
 All over thf_ stony parade ! " 
 
THE TWO MAJORS. 
 
 '• 1 cannot do that to you," answered La 
 Guerre, 
 
 " Whatever events may befall ; 
 But this I can do — if you wed her, mon cher ! 
 
 I'll eat you, moustachios and all ! " 
 
 The rivals, although they would never engage, 
 Yet quarrelled whenever they met ; 
 
 They met in a fury and left in a rage, 
 But neither took pretty Fillette. 
 
 " I am not afraid," thought Makredi Prepere ; 
 
 " For country I'm ready to fall ; 
 But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandiere, 
 
 To be eaten, moustachios and all ! 
 
 "Besides, though La Guerre has his faults, 
 I'll allow 
 
 He's one of the bravest of men : 
 My goodness ! if I disagree with him now, 
 
 I might disagree with him then." 
 
 " No coward am I," said La Guerre, " as you 
 guess — 
 
 I sneer at an enemy's blade ; 
 But I don't want Prepere to get into a mess 
 
 For splashing the stony parade ! " 
 One day on parade to Prepere and La Guerre 
 
 Came Corporal Jacob Debette, [there 
 
 And trembling all over, he prayed of them 
 
 To give him the pretty Fillette. 
 " You see, I am willing to marry my bride 
 
 Until you've arranged this affair ; 
 
I58 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 I will blow out my brains when your honours 
 decide 
 Which marries the sweet Vivandiere ! " 
 
 " Well, take her," said both of them in a duet 
 
 (A favourite form of reply), 
 "But when I am ready to marry Fillette, 
 
 Remember you've promised to die ! " 
 
 He married her then : from the flowery plains 
 
 Of existence the roses they cull : 
 He lived and he died with his wife ; and his 
 brains 
 
 Are reposing in peace in his skull. 
 
 EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I. 
 
 A DERBY LEGEND. 
 
 Emily Jane was a nursery maid, 
 
 James was a bold Life Guard, 
 John was a constable, poorly paid 
 
 (And I am a doggerel bard). 
 
 A very good girl was Emily Jane, 
 
 Jimmy was good and true, 
 John was a very good man in the main 
 
 (And I am a good man too). 
 
 Rivals for Emmie were Johnny and James, 
 Though Emily liked them both ; 
 
 She couldn't tell which had the strongest 
 claims 
 (And / couldn't take my oath). 
 
2MILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I. 1 59 
 
 But sooner or later you're certain to find 
 Your sentiments can't lie hid — 
 
 Jane thought it was time that she made up 
 her mind 
 (And I think it was time she did). 
 
 Said Jane, with a smirk, and a blush on her 
 face, 
 
 " Pll promise to wed the boy 
 Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race ! " 
 
 (Which /would have done with joy). 
 
 From Johnny escaped an expression of 
 pain, 
 But Jimmy said, "Done with you ! 
 I'll take you with pleasure, my Emily 
 Jane ! " 
 (And I would have said so too). 
 
 John lay on the ground, and he roared like 
 mad 
 (For Johnny was sore perplexed), 
 And he kicked very hard at a very small 
 lad 
 (Which / often do, when vexed). 
 
 For John was on duty next day with the 
 Force, 
 To punish all Epsom crimes ; 
 Young people will cross when they're 
 clearing the course 
 (I do it myself, sometimes). 
 
BALLADS. 
 
 The Derby Day sun glittered gaily on cads, 
 On maidens with gamboge hair, 
 
 On sharpers and pickpockets, swindlers 
 and pads 
 (For I, with my harp, was there). 
 
 And Jimmy went down with his Jane that 
 day, 
 
 And John by the collar or nape 
 Seized everybody who came in his way 
 
 (And / had a narrow escape). 
 
 He noticed his Emily Jane with Jim, 
 And envied the well-made elf ; 
 
 And people remarked that he muttered 
 "Oh, dim! ,, 
 (I often say " dim ! " myself.) 
 
 John dogged them all day without asking 
 their leaves ; 
 For his sergeant he told aside, 
 That Jimmy and Jane were notorious 
 thieves 
 (And I think he was justified). 
 
 But James wouldn't dream of abstracting 
 a fork 
 
 And Jenny would blush with shame 
 At stealing so much as a bottle or cork 
 
 (A bottle I think fair game). 
 
EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I. 101 
 
 But, ah ! there's another more serious 
 crime ! 
 
 They wickedly strayed upon 
 The course, at a critical moment'of time 
 
 (I pointed them out to John). 
 
 The constable fell on the pair in a crack — ■ 
 And then, with a demon smile, 
 
 Let Jenny cross over, but sent Jimmy back 
 (I played on my harp the while). 
 
 Stern Johnny their agony loud derides 
 With a very triumphant sneer — 
 
 They weep and they wail from the oppo- 
 site sides 
 (And / shed a silent tear). 
 
 And Jenny is crying away like mad, 
 
 And Jimmy is swearing hard ; 
 And Johnny is looking uncommonly glad 
 
 (And I am a doggerel bard). 
 
 But Jimmy he ventured on crossing again 
 The scenes of our Isthmian Games — 
 
 John caught him, and collared him, giving 
 him pain 
 (I felt very much for James). 
 
 John led him away with a victor's hand. 
 
 And Jimmy was shortly seen 
 In the station-house under the grand Grand 
 Stand 
 
 (As many a time I've been). 
 
! THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 And Jimmy, bad boy, was imprisoned for 
 life, 
 
 Though Emily pleaded hard ; 
 And Johnny had Emily Jane to wife 
 
 (And I am a doggerel bard). 
 
 THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITY. 
 
 Old Peter led a wretched life — 
 Old Peter had a furious wife ; 
 Old Peter too was truly stout, 
 He measured several yards about. 
 
 The little fairy Picklekin 
 One summer afternoon looked in, 
 And said, " Old Peter, how de do ? 
 Can I do anything for you ? 
 
 " I have three gifts— the first will give 
 Unbounded riches while you live ; 
 The second health where'er you be, 
 The third, invisibilty." 
 
 " O little fairy Picklekin," 
 Old Peter answered with a grin, 
 "To hesitate would be absurd, — 
 Undoubtedly I choose the third." 
 
 " Tis yours, " the fairy said, " be quite 
 Invisible to mortal sight 
 Whene'er you please. Remember me 
 Most kindly, pray, to Mrs. P." 
 
THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITY. 163 
 
 Old Mrs. Peter overheard 
 Wee Picklekin's concluding word, 
 And jealous of her girlhood's choice, 
 Said, "That was some young woman's 
 
 voice! " 
 Old Peter let her scold and swear 
 Old Peter, bless him, didn't care. 
 " My dear, your rage is wasted quite— 
 Observe, I disappear from sight ! " 
 A well-bred fairy (so I've heard) 
 Is always faithful to her word : 
 Old Peter vanished like a shot, 
 But then— his suit of clothes did not ! 
 
 For when conferred the fairy slim 
 Invisibility on him, 
 She popped away on fairy wings, 
 Without referring to his " things." 
 
 So there remained a coat of blue, 
 A vest and double eyeglass too, 
 His tail, his shoes, his socks as well, 
 His pair of — no, I must not tell. 
 
 Old Mrs. Peter soon began 
 To see the failure of his plan, 
 And then resolved (I quote the Bard) 
 To "hoist him with his own petard." 
 
 Old Peter woke next day and dressed, 
 Put on his coat, and shoes, and vest, 
 His shirt and stock ; but could not find 
 His only pair ofi— never mind ! 
 
Old Peter was a decent man, 
 And though he twigged his lady's plan, 
 Yet, hearing her approaching, he 
 Resumed invisibility. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. P., my only joy," 
 Exclaimed the horrified old boy, 
 " Now give them up, I beg of you — 
 You know what I'm referring to ! " 
 
 But no ; the cross old lady swore 
 She'd keep his — what I said before — 
 To make him publicly absurd ; 
 And Mrs. Peter kept her word. 
 
 The poor old fellow had no rest ; 
 His coat, his stock, his shoes, his vest, 
 Were all that now met mortal eye — 
 The rest, invisibility ! 
 
 " Now, madam, give them up, I beg — 
 I've bad rheumatics in my leg ; 
 Besides, until you do, it's plain 
 
 I cannot come to sight again ! 
 
 II For though some mirth it might afford 
 To see my clothes without their lord, 
 Yet there would rise indignant oaths 
 
 If he were seen without his clothes ! " 
 
 But not resolved to have her quiz, 
 The lady held her own— and his — 
 And Peter left his humble cot 
 To find a pair of— you know what. 
 
THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE. 165 
 
 But — here's the worst of the affair — 
 Whene'er he came across a pair 
 Already placed for him to don, 
 He was too stout to get them on ! 
 
 So he resolved at once to train, 
 And walked and walked with all his main ; 
 For years he paced this mortal earth, 
 To bring himself to decent girth. 
 
 At night, when all around is still, 
 You'll find him pounding up a hill ; 
 And shrieking peasants whom he meets. 
 Fall down in terror on the peats ! 
 
 Old Peter walks through wind and rain v 
 Resolved to train, and train, and train, 
 Until he weighs twelve stone or so — 
 And when he does, I'll let you know. 
 
 THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE. 
 
 Perhaps already you may know 
 Sir Blennerhasset Portico ? 
 A Captain in the Navy, he — 
 A Baronet and K. C. B. 
 
 You do ? I thought so ! 
 It was that Captain's favourite whim 
 (A notion not confined to him) 
 That Rodney was the greatest tar 
 Who ever wielded capsten-bar. 
 
 He had been taught so. 
 
6 THEBABBALLADS. 
 
 " Benbow ! Cornwallis ! Hood — Belay ! 
 Compared with Rodney" — he would say— 
 " No other tar is worth a rap ! 
 The great Lord Rodney was the chap 
 
 The French to polish ! 
 Though, mind you, I respect Lord Hood ; 
 Cornwallis, too, was rather good ; 
 Benbow could enemies repel, 
 Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well. 
 
 That is, tol-lol-ish ! " 
 
 Sir Blennerhasset spent his days 
 In learning Rodney's little ways, 
 And closely imitated, too. 
 His mode of talking to his crew — 
 
 His port and paces. 
 An ancient tar he tried to catch 
 Who'd served in Rodney's famous batch ; 
 But since his time long years have fled, 
 And Rodney's tars are mostly dead : 
 
 Eheu fugaces / 
 
 But after searching near and far, 
 At last he found an ancient tar 
 Who served with Rodney and his crew 
 Against the French in 'Eighty-two 
 
 (That gained the peerage). 
 He gave him fifty pounds a year, 
 His rum, his baccy, and his beer ; 
 And had a comfortable den 
 Rigged up in what, by merchantmen, 
 
 Is called the steerage. 
 
THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE, 167 
 
 "Now, Jasper" — 'twas that sailor's 
 
 name — 
 " Don't fear that you'll incur my blame 
 By saying, when it seems to you, 
 That there is anything I do 
 
 That Rodney wouldn't." 
 The ancient sailor turned his quid, 
 Prepared to do as he was bid : 
 " Ay, ay, yer honour ; to begin, 
 You've done away with ' swifting in '~=« 
 
 Well, sir, you shouldn't ! 
 " Upon your spars I see you've clapped 
 Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped. 
 I would not christen that a crime, 
 But 'twas not done in Rodney's time. 
 
 It looks half-witted ! 
 Upon your maintop-stay, I see, 
 You always clap a selvagee ! 
 Your stays, I see, are equalised — 
 No vessel, such as Rodney prized, 
 
 Would thus be fitted ! 
 41 And Rodney, honoured sir, would grin 
 To see you turning deadeyes in, 
 Not up, as in the ancient way, 
 But downwards, like a cutter's stay — 
 
 You didn't oughter ; 
 Besides, in seizing shrouds on board, 
 Breast backstays you have quite ignored ; 
 Great Rodney kept unto the last 
 Breast backstays on topgallant mast— 
 
 They make it tauter." 
 
3 T H E B A B B A L L AD T. 
 
 Sir Blennerhasset " swifted in," 
 Turned deadeyes up, and lent a tin 
 To strip (as told by Jasper Knox) 
 The iron capping from his blocks, 
 
 Where there was any. 
 Sir Blennerhasset does away 
 With selvagees from maintop-stay ; 
 And though it makes his sailors stare, 
 He rigs breast backstays everywhere — 
 
 In fact, too many. 
 
 One morning, when the saucy craft 
 Lay calmed, old Jasper toddled aft. 
 " My mind misgives me, sir, that we 
 Were wrong about that selvagee — 
 
 I should restore it." 
 " Good," said the Captain, and that day 
 Restored it to the maintop-stay. 
 Well-practised sailors often make 
 A much more serious mistake, 
 
 And then ignore it. 
 
 Next day old Jasper came once more : 
 " I think, sir, I was right before." 
 Well, up the mast the sailors skipped. 
 The selvagee was soon unshipped, 
 
 And all were merry. 
 Again a day and Jasper came : 
 " I pVaps deserve your honour's blame, 
 I can't make up my mind," said he, 
 " About that cursed selvagee — 
 
 It's foolish — very. 
 
PHRENOLOGY. 
 
 " On Monday night I could have sworn 
 That maintop-stay it should adorn, 
 On Tuesday morning I could swear 
 That selvagee should not be there. 
 
 The knot's a rasper ! " 
 " Oh, you be hanged, 1 ' said Captain P. 
 " Here, go ashore at Caribbee. 
 Get out — good-bye — shove off — all right ! 
 Old Jasper soon was out of sight — 
 
 Farewell, old Jasper ! 
 
 PHRENOLOGY. 
 
 14 Come, collar this bad man — 
 Around the throat he knotted me 
 
 Till I to choke began — 
 In point of fact, garrotted me ! "' 
 
 So spake Sir Herbert White 
 To James, Policeman Thirty-two.. 
 
 All ruffled with his fight 
 Sir Herbert was, and dirty too. 
 
 Policeman nothing said 
 
 (Though he had much to say on it)* 
 But from the bad man's head 
 
 He took the cap that lay on it. 
 
 ' No, great Sir Herbert White, 
 Impossible to take him up. 
 This man is honest quite — 
 
 Wherever did you rake him up ? 
 
" For Burglars, Thieves and Co., 
 Indeed, I'm no apologist, 
 
 But I, some years ago, 
 Assisted a Phrenologist. 
 
 11 Observe his various bumps, 
 His head as I uncover it : 
 
 His morals lie in lumps, 
 All round about and over it." 
 
 '" Now take him," said Sir White, 
 " Or you will soon be rueing it ; 
 
 Bless me ! I must be right, — 
 1 caught the fellow doing it ! " 
 
 Policeman calmly smiled, 
 
 ' ; Indeed you are mistaken, sir, 
 
 You're agitated — riled— 
 And very badly shaken, sir. 
 
 " Sit down, and I'll explain 
 My system of Phrenology, 
 
 A second, please, remain " — 
 (A second is horology). 
 
 Policeman left his beat— 
 
 (The Bart., no longer furious, 
 
 Sat down upon a seat, 
 Observing, " This is curious ! ") 
 
 *' Oh, surely, here are signs 
 Should soften your rigidity ; 
 
 This gentleman combines 
 Politeness with timidity. 
 
PHRENOLOGY 
 
 " Of Shyness here's a lump — 
 
 A hole for Animosity — 
 And like my fist his bump 
 
 Of Impecuniosity. 
 
 " Just here the bump appears 
 
 Of Innocent Hilarity, 
 And just behind his ears 
 
 Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity. 
 
 " He of true Christian ways, 
 As bright example sent us is — 
 
 This maxim he obeys 
 
 " ' Sortd tud contentus sis.'' 
 
 " There, let him go his ways, 
 He needs no stern admonishing." 
 
 The Bart., in blank amaze, 
 Exclaimed, " This is astonishing ! 
 
 "I must have made a mull, 
 This matter I've been blind in it : 
 
 Examine, please, my skull, 
 And tell me what you find in it." 
 
 That Crusher looked, and said, 
 With unimpaired urbanity, 
 
 " Sir Herbert, you've a head 
 That teems with inhumanity. 
 
 " Here's Murder, Envy, Strife 
 
 (Propensity to kill any;, 
 And Lies as large as life, 
 
 And heaps of Social Villainy. 
 
"Here's Love of Bran-New Clothes, 
 Embezzling — Arson — Deism — 
 
 A taste for Slang and Oaths, 
 And Fraudulent Trusteeism. 
 
 " Here's Love of Groundless Charge- 
 Here's Malice, too, and Trickery, 
 
 Unusually large 
 Your bump of Pocket-Pickery " 
 
 " Stop ! " said the Bart., " my cup 
 Is full — I'm worse than him in all ; 
 
 Policeman, take me up — 
 No doubt I am some criminal ! " 
 
 That Pleeceman's scorn grew large 
 (Phrenology had nettled it), 
 
 He took that Bart, in charge — 
 I don't know how they settled it. 
 
 THE FAIRY CURATE. 
 
 Once a fairy 
 
 Light and airy 
 Married with a mortal ; 
 
 Men, however, 
 
 Never, never 
 Pass the fairy portal. 
 
 Slyly stealing, 
 
 She to Ealing 
 Made a daily journey ; 
 
 There she found him, 
 
 Clients round him 
 (He was an attorney)- 
 
THE FAIRY CURATE. 
 
 Long they tarried, 
 Then they married. 
 
 When the ceremony 
 Once was ended, 
 Off they wended 
 
 On their moon of honey. 
 
 Twelvemonth, maybe, 
 Saw a baby 
 
 (Friends performed an orgie). 
 Much they prized him, 
 And baptised him 
 
 By the name of Georgie. 
 
 Georgie grew up ; 
 Then he flew up 
 
 To his fairy mother. 
 
 Happy meeting — 
 Pleasant greeting — 
 
 Kissing one another. 
 
 " Choose a calling 
 Most enthralling, 
 
 I sincerely urge ye." 
 
 "Mother," said he 
 (Rev'rence made he) 
 
 "I would join the clergy. 
 
 " Give permission 
 
 In addition — 
 Pa will let me do it : 
 
 There's a living 
 
 In his giving— 
 He'll appoint me to it. 
 
THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 Dreams of coff' ring 
 
 Easter off' ring, 
 Tithe and rent and pew-rate 
 
 So inflame me 
 
 (Do not blame me), 
 That I'll be a curate." 
 
 She, with pleasure, 
 
 Said, " My treasure, 
 'Tis my wish precisely. 
 
 Do your duty, 
 
 There's a beauty ; 
 You have chosen wisely. 
 
 Tell your father 
 
 I would rather 
 As a churchman rank you. 
 
 You, in clover, 
 
 I'll watch over." 
 Geokgie said, " Oh, thank you ! " 
 
 Georgie scudded, 
 
 Went and studied, 
 Made all preparations, 
 
 And with credit 
 
 (Though he said it) 
 Passed examinations. 
 
 (Do not quarrel 
 
 With him, moral. 
 Scrupulous digestions — 
 
 'Twas his mother, 
 
 And no other, 
 Answered all the questions.) 
 
THE FA IKY CURATE 
 
 Time proceeded ; 
 
 Little needed 
 Georgie admonition r 
 
 He, elated, 
 
 Vindicated 
 Clergyman's position. 
 
 People round him 
 
 Always found him 
 Plain and unpretending ; 
 
 Kindly teaching, 
 
 Plainly preaching, 
 All his money lending. 
 
 So the fairy, 
 Wise and wary, 
 
 Felt no sorrow rising — 
 No occasion 
 For persuasion, 
 
 Warning, or advising. 
 He, resuming 
 Fairy pluming 
 
 (That's not English, is it ?) 
 Oft would fly up, 
 To the sky up, 
 
 Pay mamma a visit. 
 
 Time progressing, 
 Georgie's blessing 
 
 Grew more Ritualistic — 
 Popish scandals, 
 Tonsures — sandals — 
 
 Genuflections mystic : 
 
■ 7 6 
 
 Gushing meetings — 
 Bosom-beatings — 
 
 Heavenly ecstatics— 
 
 Broidered spencers — 
 Copes and censers — 
 
 Rochets and dalmatics. 
 
 This quandary 
 
 Vexed the fairy- 
 Flew she down to Ealing. 
 
 "Georgie, stop it ! 
 
 Pray you, drop it ; 
 Hark to my appealing : 
 
 To this foolish 
 
 Papal rule-ish 
 Twaddle put an ending ; 
 
 This a swerve is 
 
 From our Service 
 Plain and unpretending." 
 
 He, replying, 
 
 Answered, sighing, 
 Hawing, hemming, humming, 
 
 " It's a pity— 
 
 They're so pritty ; 
 Yet in mode becoming, 
 
 Mother tender, 
 
 I'll surrender — 
 I'll be unaffected — " 
 
 But his Bishop 
 
 Into his shop 
 Entered unexpected ! 
 
THE WAY OF WOOING. 
 
 " Who is this, sir, — 
 
 Ballet miss, sir ? " 
 Said the Bishop coldly. 
 
 " 'Tis my mother, 
 
 And no other," 
 Georgie answered boldly. 
 
 " Go along, sir ! 
 
 You are wrong, sir ; 
 You have years in plenty, 
 
 While this hussy 
 
 (Gracious mussy !) 
 Isn't two-and-twenty ! " 
 
 (Fairies clever 
 
 Never, never 
 Grow in visage older; 
 
 And the fairy, 
 
 All unwary, 
 Leant upon his shoulder !) 
 
 Bishop grieved him, 
 
 Disbelieved him ; 
 George the point grew warm on : 
 
 Changed religion, 
 
 Like a pigeon,* 
 And became a Mormon ! 
 
 THE WAY OF WOOING. 
 
 A maiden sat at her window wide, 
 Pretty enough for a Prince's bride, 
 
 * " Like a bird." — Slang expression. 
 
178 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 Yet nobody came to claim her. 
 She sat like a beautiful picture there, 
 With pretty bluebells and roses fair, 
 
 And jasmine-leaves to frame her. 
 And why she sat there nobody knows ; 
 But this she sang as she plucked a rose, 
 
 The leaves around her strewing : 
 " I've time to lose and power to choose ; 
 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos, 
 
 But the gallant's way of wooing ! " 
 
 A lover came riding by awhile, 
 
 A wealthy lover was he, whose smile 
 
 Some maids would value greatly — 
 A formal lover, who bowed and bent, 
 With many a high-flown compliment, 
 
 And cold demeanour stately. 
 " You've still," said she to her suitor stern, 
 " The 'prentice-work of your craft to learn, 
 
 If thus you come a-cooing. 
 I've time to lose and power to choose ; 
 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos, 
 
 As the gallant's way of wooing ! " 
 
 A second lover came ambling by — 
 A timid lad with a frightened eye 
 
 And a colour mantling highly. 
 He muttered the errand on which he'd come. 
 Then only chuckled and bit his tongue, 
 
 And simpered, simpered shyly. 
 "No," said the maiden, " go your way ; 
 You dare but think what a man would say, 
 
 Yet dare to come a-suing ! 
 
HONGRE EAND MAHRY. 1 79 
 
 I've time to lose and power to choose ; 
 
 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos, 
 
 As the gallant's way of wooing ! " 
 
 A third rode up at a startling pace — 
 A suitor poor, with a homely face — 
 
 No doubts appeared to bind him. 
 He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist, 
 And off he rode with the maiden placed 
 
 On a pillion safe behind him. 
 And she heard the suitor bold confide '•*. 
 This golden hint to the priest who tied 
 
 The knot there's no undoing ; 
 k ' With pretty young maidens who can choose, 
 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos, 
 
 As the gallant's way of wooing ! " 
 
 HONGREE AND MAHRY. 
 
 A TRANSPONTINE ROMANCE. 
 
 The sun was setting in its wonted west, 
 When Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, 
 Met Mahry Daubigny, the Village Rose, 
 Under the Wizard's Oak — old trysting place 
 Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine. 
 
 They thought themselves unwatched, but they 
 
 were not ; 
 For Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, 
 Found in Lieutenant-Colonel Jooles Dubosc 
 A rival, envious and unscrupulous, 
 Who thought it not foul scorn to dodge his 
 
 steps, 
 
l8o THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 And listen, unperceived, to all that passed 
 
 Between the simple little Village Rose 
 
 And Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. 
 
 A clumsy barrack-bully was Dubosc, 
 
 Quite unfamiliar with the well-bred tact 
 
 That animates a proper gentleman 
 
 In dealing with a girl of humble rank. 
 
 You'll understand his coarseness when I say 
 
 He would have married Mahry Daubigny, 
 
 And dragged the unsophisticated girl 
 
 Into the whirl of fashionable life, 
 
 For which her singularly rustic ways, 
 
 Her breeding (moral, but extremely rude). 
 
 Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical). 
 
 Would absolutely have unfitted her. 
 
 How different to this unreflecting boor 
 
 Was Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores ' 
 
 Contemporary with the incident 
 Related in our opening paragraph, 
 Was that sad war 'twixt Gallia and ourselves 
 That followed on the treaty signed at Troyes ; 
 And so Lieutenant-Colonel Jooles Dubosc 
 (Brave soldier, he, with all his faults of style) 
 And Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, 
 Were sent by Charles of France against the 
 
 lines 
 Of our sixth Henry (Fourteen twenty-nine), 
 To drive his legions out of Aquitaine. 
 
 When Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, 
 Returned, suspecting nothing, to his camp, 
 
HONG REE AND MAHRY. 101 
 
 After his meeting with the Village Rose, 
 He found inside his barrack letter-box, 
 A note from the commanding officer, 
 Requiring his attendance at headquarters. 
 
 He went, and found Lieutenant-Colonel 
 
 Jooles. 
 "Young Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chas- 
 
 soores, 
 This night we shall attack the English camp ; 
 Be the ' forlorn hope ' yours — you'll lead it, sir, 
 And lead it too with credit, I've no doubt. 
 As every man must certainly be killed 
 (For you are twenty 'gainst two thousand men) 
 It is not likely that you will return. 
 But what of that? you'll have the benefit 
 Of knowing that you die a soldier's death." 
 
 Obedience was young Hongree's strongest 
 
 point. 
 
 But he imagined that he only owed 
 Allegiance to his Mahry and his King. 
 ' If Mahry bade me lead these fated men, 
 I'd lead them — but I do not think she would. 
 If Charles, my King, said, ' Go, my son, and 
 
 die,' 
 
 I'd go, of course— my duty would be clear. 
 But Mahry is in bed asleep, I hope, 
 • And Charles, my King, a hundred leagues 
 
 from this. 
 
 As for Lieutenant-Colonel Jooles Dubosc, 
 How know I that our monarch would approve 
 
182 THE 'BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 The order he has given me to-night ? 
 
 My King I've sworn in all things to obey— 
 
 I'll only take my orcjrs from my King ! " 
 
 Thus Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, 
 
 Interpreted the terms of his commission. 
 
 And Hongree, who was wise as he was good. 
 
 Disguised himself that night in ample cloak, 
 
 Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of black, 
 
 And made, unnoticed, for the English camp. 
 
 He passed the unsuspecting sentinels 
 
 (Who little thought a man in this disguise 
 
 Could be a proper object of suspicion), 
 
 And ere the curfew bell had boomed "lights 
 
 out," 
 He found in audience Bedford's haughty Duke. 
 "Your Grace," he said, "start not — be not 
 
 alarmed, 
 Although a Frenchman stands before your 
 
 eyes. 
 I'm Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. 
 My Colonel will attack your camp to-night, 
 And orders me to lead the hope forlorn. 
 Now I am sure our excellent King Charles 
 Would not approve of this ; but he's away 
 A hundred leagues, and rather more than that. 
 So, utterly devoted to my King, 
 Blinded by my attachment to the throne, 
 And having but its interest at heart, 
 I feel it is my duty to disclose 
 All schemes that emanate from Colonel 
 
 JOOLES, 
 
ETIQUETTE. 183 
 
 If I believe that they are not the kind 
 Of schemes that our good monarch would ap- 
 prove.' 1 
 
 " But how," said Bedford's Duke, " do you 
 propose [scheme ? " 
 
 That we should overthrow your Colonel's 
 And Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, 
 Replied at once with never-failing tact : 
 " Oh, sir, I know this cursed country well. 
 Entrust yourself and all your host to me ; 
 I'll lead you safely by a secret path 
 Into the heart of Colonel Jooles 1 array, 
 And you can then attack them unprepared, 
 And slay my fellow-countrymen unarmed." 
 
 The thing was done. The Duke of Bedford 
 
 gave 
 
 The order, and two thousand fighting men 
 Crept silently into the Gallic camp, 
 And slew the Frenchmen as they lay asleep ; 
 And Bedford's haughty Duke slew Colonel 
 
 Jooles, 
 
 And gave fairMAHRY, pride of Aquitaine, 
 To Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. 
 
 ETIQUETTE.* 
 
 The Ballyshannon foundered off the coast of 
 Cariboo, 
 
 Reprinted from the Graphic^ by permission 
 of the proprietors. 
 
I»4 THE 'BAB BALLADS. 
 
 And down in fathoms many went the captain, 
 
 and the crew ; 
 Down went the owners— greedy men whom 
 
 hope of gain allured ; 
 Oh, dry the starting tear, for they were heavily 
 
 insured. 
 
 Besides the captain and the mate, the owners 
 
 and the crew, 
 The passengers were also drowned excepting 
 
 only two : 
 Young Peter Gray, who tasted teas for Baker, 
 
 Croop and Co., 
 And Somers, who from Eastern shores imported 
 
 indigo. 
 
 These passengers, by reason of their clinging 
 
 to a mast, 
 Upon a desert island were eventually cast. 
 They hunted for their meals, as Alexander 
 
 Selkirk used, 
 But they couldn't chat together— they had not 
 
 been introduced. 
 
 For Peter Gray, and Somers too, though cer* 
 
 tainly in trade, 
 Were properly particular about the friends 
 
 they made ; 
 And somehow thus they settled it without a 
 
 word of mouth — 
 That Gray should take the northern half, while 
 
 Somers took the south. 
 
w 
 
 -'-A- 
 
 
 THESE PASSENGERS, BY REASON OF THEIR 
 CLINGING TO A MAST.' 1 
 
l86 THE BAB' BALLADS. 
 
 On Peter's portion oysters grew — a delicacy 
 
 rare, 
 But oysters were a delicacy Peter couldn't 
 
 bear. 
 On Somers' side was turtle, on the shingle 
 
 lying thick, 
 Which Somers couldn't eat, because it always 
 
 made him sick. 
 
 Gray gnashed his teeth with envy as he saw a 
 
 mighty store 
 Of turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature's 
 
 shore. 
 The oysters at his feet aside impatiently he 
 
 shoved. 
 For turtle and his mother were the only things 
 
 he loved. 
 
 And Somers sighed in sorrow as he settled in 
 
 the south, 
 For the thought of Peter's oysters brought 
 
 the water to his mouth. 
 He longed to lay him down upon the shelly 
 
 bed, and stuff: 
 He had often eaten oysters, but had never had 
 
 enough. 
 
 How they wished an introduction to each 
 
 other they had had 
 When on board the Ballyshannon / And it 
 
 drove them nearly mad 
 
 
ETIQUETTE. 187 
 
 To think how very friendly with each other 
 
 they might get, 
 If it wasn't for the arbitrary rule of etiquette ! K 
 
 One day, when out a-hunting for the mus 
 
 ridiculus, 
 Gray overheard his fellow-man soliloquising 
 
 thus : 
 " I wonder how the playmates of my youth 
 
 are getting on, 
 M'Connell, S. B. Walters, Paddy Byles, 
 
 and Robinson ? 11 
 
 These simple words made Peter as delighted 
 as could be, 
 
 Old chummies at the Charterhouse were Rob- 
 inson and he ! 
 
 He walked straight up to Somers, then he 
 turned extremely red. 
 
 Hesitated, hummed and hawed a bit, then 
 cleared his throat, and said : 
 
 " I beg your pardon— pray forgive me if I 
 seem too bold, 
 
 But you have breathed a name I knew famil- 
 iarly of old. 
 
 You spoke aloud of Robinson — I happened to 
 be by. 
 
 You know him?" "Yes, extremely well." 
 " Allow me, so do I." 
 
 It was enough : they felt they could more 
 pleasantly get on, 
 
For (ah, the magic of the fact i) they each 
 
 knew Robinson ! 
 And Mr. Somers' turtle was at Peter 1 s service 
 
 quite, 
 And Mr. Somers punished Peter's oyster-beds 
 
 all night. > 
 
 They soon became like brothers from com- 
 munity of wrongs : 
 
 They wrote each other little odes and sang 
 each other songs ; 
 
 They told each other anecdotes disparaging 
 their wives ; 
 
 On several occasions, too, they saved each 
 other's lives. 
 
 They felt quite melancholy when they parted 
 
 for the night, 
 And got up in the morning soon as ever it 
 
 was light ; 
 Each other's pleasant company they reckoned 
 
 so upon, 
 And all because it happened that they both 
 
 knew Robinson ! 
 
 They lived for many years on that inhospitable 
 
 shore, 
 And day by day they learned to love each 
 
 other more and more. 
 At last, to their astonishment, on getting up 
 
 one day, 
 They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of 
 
 the bay. 
 
ETIQUETTE. 189 
 
 To Peter an idea occurred, " Suppose we 
 cross the main ? 
 
 So good an opportunity may not be found 
 again." 
 
 And Somers thought a minute, then ejacu- 
 lated, "Done ! 
 
 I wonder how my business in the City's get- 
 ting on ? " 
 
 "But stay," said Mr. Peter: "when in 
 
 England, as you know, 
 I earned a living tasting teas for Baker, 
 
 Croop and Co., 
 I may be superseded— my employers think me 
 
 dead ! " 
 "Then come with me," said Somers, "and 
 
 taste indigo instead." > 
 
 But all their plans were scattered in a moment 
 
 when they found 
 The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, 
 
 outward bound ; 
 When a boat came off to fetch them, though 
 
 they felt it very kind, 
 To go on board they firmly but respectfully 
 
 declined. 
 
 As both the happy settlers roared with laughter 
 
 at the joke, 
 They recognised a gentlemanly fellow pulling 
 
 stroke : 
 
igO THE BAB BALLADS. 
 
 'Twas Robinson— a convict, in an unbecoming 
 frock ! 
 
 Condemned to seven years for misappropriat- 
 ing stock ! ! ! 
 
 They laughed no more, for Somers thought he 
 had been rather rash 
 
 In knowing one whose friend had misappro- 
 priated cash ; 
 
 And Peter thought a foolish tack he must 
 have gone upon 
 
 In making the acquaintance of a friend of 
 Robinson. 
 
 At first they didn't quarrel very openly, I've 
 heard ; 
 
 They nodded when they met, and now and 
 then exchanged a word : 
 
 The word grew rare, and rarer still the nod- 
 ding of the head, 
 
 And when they meet each other now, they cut 
 each other dead. 
 
 To allocate the island they agreed by word of 
 
 mouth, 
 And Peter takes the north again, and Somers 
 
 takes the south ; 
 And Peter has the oysters, which he hates, in 
 
 layers thick, 
 And Somers has the turtle — turtle always 
 
 makes him sick. 
 
AT A PANTOMIME. 
 
 AT A PANTOMIME. 
 
 BY A BILIOUS ONE. 
 
 An Actor sits in doubtful gloom, 
 His stock-in-trade unfurled, 
 
 In a damp funereal dressing-room 
 In the Theatre Royal, World. 
 
 He comes to town at Christmas-time, 
 
 And braves its icy breath, 
 To play in that favourite pantomime, 
 
 Harlequin Life and Death. 
 
 A hoary flowing wig his weird 
 
 Unearthly cranium caps, 
 He hangs a long benevolent beard 
 
 On a pair of empty chaps. 
 
 To smooth his ghastly features down 
 
 The actor's art he cribs, — 
 A long and flowing padded gown 
 
 Bedecks his rattling ribs. 
 He cries, " Go on— begin, begin ! 
 
 Turn on the light of lime — 
 I'm dressed for jolly Old Christmas, in 
 
 A favourite pantomime ! " 
 The curtain's up— the stage all black- 
 Time and the year nigh sped— 
 Time as an advertising quack — 
 
 The Old Year nearly dead. 
 The wand of Time is waved, and lo I 
 
 Revealed Old Christmas stands, 
 
! THE BAB BALLADS, 
 
 And little children chuckle and crow, 
 And laugh and clap their hands. 
 
 The cruel old scoundrel brightens up 
 At the death of the Olden Year, 
 
 And he waves a gorgeous golden cup, 
 And bids the world good cheer. 
 
 The little ones hail the festive King,— 
 No thought can make them sad. 
 
 Their laughter comes with a sounding 
 ri'ng 
 They clap and crow like mad ! 
 
 They only see in the humbug old 
 
 A holiday every year, 
 And handsome gifts, and joys untold, 
 
 And unaccustomed cheer. 
 
 The old ones, palsied, blear, and hoar, 
 Their breasts in anguish beat — 
 
 They've seen him seventy times before, 
 How we'll they know the cheat ! 
 
 They've seen that ghastly pantomime, 
 They've felt its blighting breath, 
 
 They know that rollicking Christmas-time 
 Meant Cold and Want and Death, — 
 
 Starvation — Poor Law Union fare — 
 
 And deadly cramps and chills, 
 And illness— illness everywhere, 
 
 And crime, and Christmas bills. 
 
HAUNTED. I( 
 
 They know Old Christmas well, I ween, 
 
 Those men of ripened age ; 
 They've often, often, often seen 
 
 That Actor off the stage ! 
 
 They see in his gay rotundity 
 
 A clumsy stuffed-out dress — 
 They see in the cup he waves on high 
 
 A tinselled emptiness. 
 Those aged men so lean and wan, 
 
 They've seen it all before. 
 They know they'll see the charlatan 
 
 But twice or three times more. 
 
 And so they bear with dance and song 
 
 And crimson foil and green, 
 They wearily sit, and grimly long 
 
 For the Transformation Scene. 
 
 HAUNTED. 
 
 Haunted ? Ay, in a social way 
 By a body of ghosts in dread array ; 
 But no conventional spectres they — 
 
 Appalling, grim, and tricky : 
 I quail at mine as I'd never quail 
 At a fine traditional spectre pale, 
 With a turnip head and a ghostly wail. 
 
 And a splash of blood on the dickey ! 
 
 Mine are horrible, social ghosts, — 
 Speeches and women and guests and hosts. 
 
Weddings and morning calls and toasts, 
 
 In every bad variety : 
 Ghosts who hover about the grave 
 Of all that's manly, free, and brave.: 
 You'll find their names on the architrave 
 
 Of that charnel-house, Society. 
 
 Black Monday — black as its school-room 
 
 ink — 
 With its dismal boys that snivel and think 
 Of its nauseous messes to eat and drink, 
 
 And its frozen tank to wash in. 
 That was the first that brought me grief, 
 And made me weep, till I sought relief 
 In an emblematical handkerchief, 
 
 To choke such baby bosh in. 
 
 First and worst in the grim array — 
 Ghosts of ghosts that have gone their way, 
 Which I wouldn't revive, for a single day 
 
 For al! the wealth of Plutus — 
 Are the horrible ghosts that school-days 
 
 scared : 
 It the classical ghost that Brutus dared 
 Was the ghost of his " Caesar 'j unprepared, 
 I'm sure I pity Brutus. 
 
 I pass to critical seventeen ; 
 
 The ghost of that terrible wedding scene, 
 
 When an elderly Colonel stole my Queen, 
 
 And woke my dream of heaven. 
 No schoolgirl decked in her nurse-room 
 curls 
 
Was my gushing innocent Queen of Pearls ; 
 If she wasn't a girl of a thousand girls, 
 
 She was one of forty-seven ! 
 I see the ghost of my first cigar, 
 Of the thence -arising family jar — 
 Of my maiden brief (I was at the Bar, 
 
 And I called the Judge "Your 
 wushup ! ") 
 Of reckless days and reckless nights, 
 With wrenched-off knockers, extinguished 
 
 lights, 
 Unholy songs and tipsy fights, 
 
 Which I strove in vain to hush up. 
 Ghosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks, 
 Ghosts of " copy, declined with thanks," 
 Of novels returned in endless ranks, 
 
 And thousands more, 1 suffer. 
 The only line to fitly grace 
 My humble tomb, when I've run my race, 
 Is, " Reader, this is the resting-place 
 
 Of an unsuccessful duffer." 
 I've fought them all, these ghosts of mine, 
 But the weapons I've used are sighs and 
 
 brine, 
 And now that I'm nearly forty-nine, 
 
 Old age is my chiefest bogy ; 
 For my hair is thinning away at the crown, 
 And the silver fights with the worn-out 
 
 brown ; 
 And a general verdict sets me down 
 
 As an irreclaimable fogy. 
 

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