Page images
PDF
EPUB

No longer Deary, Duck, and Love, I soon came down to simple “M!The very servants crossed my wish, My Susan let me down to them. The poker hardly seemed my own, I might as well have been a log – What d'ye think of that, my cat ? What d'ye think of that, my dog? My clothes they were the queerest shape ! Such coats and hats she never met ! My ways they were the oddest ways ! My friends were such a vulgar set! Poor Tompkinson was snubbed and huffed, She could not bear that Mister Blogg What d'ye think of that, my cat ? What d'ye think of that, my dog ? At times we had a spar, and then Mamma must mingle in the song The sister took a sister's part — The maid declared her master wrongThe parrot learned to call me “ Fool!” My life was like a London fog – What d’ye think of that, my cat ? What d’ye think of that, my dog? My Susan's taste was superfine, As proved by bills that had no end; I never had a decent coat — I never had a coin to spend ! She forced me to resign my club, Lay down my pipe, retrench my grog --What d' ye think of that, my cat ? What d' ye think of that, my dog?

Each Sunday night we gave a rout
To fops and flirts, a pretty list;
And when I tried to steal away,
I found my study full of whist!
Then, first to come, and last to go,
There always was a Captain Hogg —
What d'ye think of that, my cat ?
What d'ye think of that, my dog ?
Now was not that an awful dream
For one who single is and snug -
With Pussy in the elbow-chair,
And Tray reposing on the rug ? —
If I must totter down the hill,
'T is safest done without a clog —
What d’ye think of that, my cat?
What d' ye think of that, my dog ?

[blocks in formation]

A ROMANCE.
It was a merry company,

And they were just afloat,
When, lo! a man, of dwarfish span,

Came up and hailed the boat.
"Good-morrow to ye, gentle folks,

And will you let me in? —
A slender space will serve my case,

For I am small and thin.”
They saw he was a dwarfish man,

And very small and thin;
Not seven such would matter much,

And so they took him in.

They laughed to see his little hat,

With such a narrow brim;
They laughed to note his dapper coat,

With skirts so scant and trim.
But barely had they gone a mile,

When, gravely, one and all
At once began to think the man

Was not so very small.
His coat had got a broader skirt,

His hat a broader brim,
His leg grew stout, and soon plumped out

A very proper limb.
Still on they went, and as they went

More rough the billows grew,-
And rose and fell, a greater swell,

And he was swelling too !
And, lo! where room had been for seven,

For six there scarce was space!
For five!—for four!—for three!—not more

Than two could find a place !
There was not even room for one !

They crowded by degrees —
Ay - closer yet, till elbows met,

And knees were jogging knees.
“Good sir, you must not sit astern,

The wave will else come in ! ” Without a word he gravely stirred,

Another seat to win.
“Good sir, the boat has lost her trim,

You must not sit a-lee !”.
With smiling face and courteous grace,

The middle seat took he.

But still, by constant quiet growth,

His back became so wide,
Each neighbor wight, to left and right,

Was thrust against the side.
Lord ! how they chided with themselves,

That they had let him in !
To see him grow so monstrous now,

That came so small and thin.
On every brow a dew-drop stood,

They grew so scared and hot,-
“I'the name of all that 's great and tall,

Who are ye, sir, and what?
Loud laughed the Gogmagog, a laugh

As loud as giant's roar -
“When first I came, my proper name

Was Little — now I'm Moore!"

DEATH'S RAMBLE.
ONE day the dreary old King of Death

Inclined for some sport with the carnal,
So he tied a pack of darts on his back,

And quietly stole from his charnel. His head was bald of flesh and of hair,

His body was lean and lank ; His joints at each stir made a crack, and the cur

Took a gnaw, by the way, at his shank. And what did he do with his deadly darts,

This goblin of grisly bone ? He dabbled and spilled man's blood, and he killed Like a butcher that kills his own.

The first he slaughtered it made him laugh,

(For the man was a coffin-maker,)
To think how the mutes, and men in black suits,

Would mourn for an undertaker.
Death saw two Quakers sitting at church ;

Quoth he, “ We shall not differ.”
And he let them alone, like figures of stone,

For he could not make them stiffer.
He saw two duellists going to fight,

In fear they could not smother;
And he shot one through at once — for he knew

They never would shoot each other.
He saw a watchman fast in his box

And he gave a snore infernal;
Said Death, “He may keep his breath, for his sleep

Can never be more eternal.”
He met a coachman driving a coach

So slow that his fare grew sick;
But he let him stray on his tedious way,

For Death only wars on the quick.
Death saw a tollman taking a toll,

In the spirit of his fraternity;
But he knew that sort of man would extort,

Though summoned to all eternity.
He found an author writing his life,

But he let him write no further;
For Death, who strikes whenever he likes,

Is jealous of all self-murther!
Death saw a patient that pulled out his purse,

And a doctor that took the sum;
But he let them be — for he knew that the “ fee"

Was a prelude to "faw” and “fum."

« PreviousContinue »