BABETTE'S LOVE

B

ABETTE she was a fisher gal,
With jupon striped and cap in crimps,
She passed her days inside the Halle,

Or collaring of little shrimps.
Yet she was sweet as flowers in May,
With no professional bouquet.

JACOT was, of the Customs bold,
An officer, at gay Boulogne,

He loved

BABETTE

his love

he told

And sighed,

66 Oh, soyez

vous my own!"

But "Non!"

said she,

"JACOT,

my pet,

Vous êtes trop scraggy pour BABETTE.

"Of one alone I nightly dream,
An able mariner is he,

And gaily serves the Gen'ral Steam-
Boat Navigation Companee,
I'll marry him, if he but will —
His name, I rather think, is BILL.

I see him when he's not aware,
Upon our hospitable coast,
Reclining with an easy air,
Upon the port against a post,

Oh, mon!" exclaimed the

Customs bold,

Bab.

"Mes yeux!" he said, which means, "my eye."

"Oh, chère !" he also cried, I'm told,

"Par Jove," he added, with a sigh. "Oh, mon! oh, chère! mes yeux! par Jove! Je n'aime pas cet enticing cove!"

The Panther's Captain stood hard by,
He was a man of morals strict,
If e'er a sailor winked his eye,
Straightway he had that sailor licked,
Mast-headed all (such was his code)
Who dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed.

He wept to think a tar of his

Should lean so gracefully on posts, He sighed and sobbed to think of this, On foreign, French, and friendly coasts. “It's human natur', p’raps if so, Oh, is n't human natur' low!"

He called his BILL, who pulled his curl,
He said, "My BILL, I understand

You've captivated some

young gurl

On this here French and foreign land.

Her tender heart your beauties jog

They do, you know they do, you dog.

"You have a graceful way, I learn,

Of leaning airily on posts,

By which you've been and caused to burn
A tender flame on these here coasts.

A fisher gurl, I much regret,

Her age, sixteen

- her name BABETTE.

"You'll marry her, you gentle tar
Your union I myself will bless;
And when you matrimonied are,
I will appoint her stewardess."
But WILLIAM hitched himself and sighed,
And cleared his throat, and thus
replied: -

"Not so: unless you're fond of strife,

You'd better mind your own

affairs;

I have an able-bodied wife

Awaiting me at Wapping Stairs;

If all this here to her I tell,
She'll larrup me, and you as well.

"Skin-deep, and valued at a pin,

Is beauty such as VENUS Owns Her beauty is beneath her skin, And lies in layers on her bones. The other sailors of the crew,

They always calls her Wapping Sue!"""

"Oho!" the Captain said, "I see!
And is she then so very strong ?
"She'd take your honor's scruff,” said he,
"And pitch you over to Bolong!"

"I pardon you," the Captain said,
"The fair BABETTE you need n't wed."

Perhaps the Customs had his will,

And coaxed the scornful girl to wed:
Perhaps the Captain and his BILL,
And WILLIAM's little wife are dead;
Or p'r'aps they 're all alive and well:
I cannot, cannot, cannot tell.

TO MY BRIDE

(Whoever she may be)

H! little maid! (I do not know your

name

Or who you are, so, as a safe pre

caution

I'll add) — Oh, buxom widow! married dame!

(As one of these must be your present portion)

Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you, And sing the 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.

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

Sessions;

A pound or two from whist, and backing horses, And, say three hundred from his own resources.