PETER THE WAG

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OLICEMAN PETER FORTH I drag
From his obscure retreat :

He was a merry, genial wag,

Who loved a mad conceit.
If he were asked the time of day
By country bumpkins green,
He not unfrequently would say,
"A quarter past thirteen.'

If ever you, by word of mouth,
Inquired of MISter Forth

The way to somewhere

in the South,

along

He loved to

stop and play;

He loved to send

old ladies wrong,

And teach their feet to stray.

He would in frolic moments, when
Such mischief bent upon,

Take Bishops up as betting men
Bid Ministers move on.

Then all the worthy boys he knew
He regularly licked,

And always collared people who
Had had their pockets picked.

He was not naturally bad,
Or viciously inclined,
But from his early youth he had
A waggish turn of mind.

The Men of London grimly scowled
With indignation wild;

The Men of London gruffly growled, But PETER calmly smiled.

Against this minion of this Crown
The swelling murmurs grew
From Camberwell to Kentish Town,
From Rotherhithe to Kew.
Still humored he his wagsome turn,
And fed in various ways
The coward rage that dared to burn
But did not dare to blaze.

Still, Retribution has her day,
Although her flight is slow;
One day that Crusher lost his way
Near Poland Street, Soho.
The haughty boy, too proud to ask,
To find his way resolved,

And in the tangle of his task

Got more and more involved.

The Men of London, overjoyed,
Came there to jeer their foe -

And flocking crowds completely cloyed
The mazes of Soho.

The news, on telegraphic wires,
Sped swiftly o'er the lea,
Excursion trains from distant shires
Brought myriads to see.

For weeks he trod his self-made beats
Through Newport- Gerrard- Bear-
Greek- Rupert-

Frith- Dean

And into

Poland-streets

Golden-square.

But all, alas, in

vain, for when

He tried to learn

the way

Of little boys or grown-up men,
They none of them would say.

Their

eyes would flash their teeth would grind

Their lips would tightly curl

They'd say, "Thy way thyself must find,
Thou misdirecting churl!"

And, similarly, also, when

He tried a foreign friend;

Italians answered,

"Il balen

The French, "No comprehend."

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 at length they solved 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
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!

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