A DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKER

Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray;Though I own that my heart has been ranging,Of nature the laws I obey,For nature is constantly changing.The moon in her phases is found,The time and the wind and the weather,The months in succession come round,And you don't find two Mondays together.Consider the moral, I pray,Nor bring a young fellow to sorrow,Who loves this young lady to-day,And loves that young lady to-morrow!You cannot eat breakfast all day,Nor is it the act of a sinner,When breakfast is taken away,To turn your attention to dinner;And it's not in the range of beliefThat you could hold him as a glutton,Who, when he is tired of beef,Determines to tackle the mutton.But this I am ready to say,If it will diminish their sorrow,I'll marry this lady to-day,And I'll marry that lady to-morrow!A DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKERA gentlemanof City fameNow claims your kind attention;West India broking was his game,His name I shall not mention;No one of finely pointed senseWould violate a confidence,And shallIgoAnd 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 employAn 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 fortunateWho owns his chiefAnd only griefIs being very bulky."This load," he'd say, "I cannot bear,I'm nineteen stone or twenty!Henceforward I'll go in for airAnd exercise in plenty."Most people think that, should it come,They can reduce a bulging tumTo measures fairBy taking airAnd exercise in plenty.In every weather, every day,Dry, muddy, wet, or gritty,He took to dancing all the wayFrom Brompton to the City.You do not often get the chanceOf seeing sugar-brokers danceFrom their abodeIn Fulham RoadThrough Brompton to the City.He braved the gay and guileless laughOf children with their nusses,The loud uneducated chaffOf clerks on omnibuses.Against all minor things that rackA nicely balanced mind, I'll backThe noisy chaffAnd ill-bred laughOf clerks on omnibuses.His friends, who heard his money chink,And saw the house he rented,And knew his wife, could never thinkWhat made him discontented.It never struck their simple mindsThat fads are of eccentric kinds,Nor would they ownThat fat aloneCould make one discontented."Your riches know no kind of pause,Your trade is fast advancing,You dance—but not for joy, becauseYou weep as you are dancing.To dance implies that man is glad,To weep implies that man is sad.But here are youWho do the two—You weep as you are dancing!"His mania soon got noised aboutAnd into all the papers—His size increased beyond a doubtFor all his reckless capers:It may seem singular to you,But all his friends admit it true—The more he foundHis 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 meUnpardonable vanity(And worse than that)To call your fatAn "adipose deposit."At length his brawny knees gave way,And on the carpet sinking,Upon his shapeless back he layAnd kicked away like winking.Instead of seeing in his stateThe finger of unswerving Fate,He laboured stillTo work his will,And kicked away like winking.His friends, disgusted with him now,Away in silence wended—I hardly like to tell you howThis dreadful story ended.The shocking sequel to impart,I must employ the limner's art—If you would know,This sketch will showHow his exertions ended.MORALI hate to preach—I hate to prate—I'm no fanatic croaker,But learn contentment from the fateOf this West India broker.He'd everything a man of tasteCould ever want, except a waist:And discontentHis size anent,And bootless perseverance blind,Completely wrecked the peace of mindOf this West India broker.AN APPEALOh! is there not one maiden breastWhich does not feel the moral beautyOf making worldly interestSubordinate to sense of duty?Who would not give up willinglyAll matrimonial ambitionTo rescue such a one as IFrom his unfortunate position?Oh, is there not one maiden here,Whose homely face and bad complexionHave caused all hopes to disappearOf ever winning man's affection?To such a one, if such there be,I swear by heaven's arch above you,If you will cast your eyes on me,—-However plain you be—I'll love you!THE PANTOMIME "SUPER" TO HIS MASKVast, empty shell!Impertinent, preposterous abortion:With vacant stare,And ragged hair,And every feature out of all proportion!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!Twelve weeks of nightsBefore the lights,Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity,I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally,Credited for the smile you wear externally—I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,As there thou liest!I've been thy brain:I'vebeen the brain that lit thy dull concavity!The human raceInvestmyfaceWith thine expression of unchecked depravity:Invested with a ghastly reciprocity,I'vebeen responsible for thy monstrosity,I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity—But not again!'Tis time to tollThy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:A twelve weeks' run,And thou hast doneAll 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 respondeth.)Oh! master mine,Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using me.Art thou awareOf nothing thereWhich might abuse thee, as thou art abusing me?A brain that mournsthineunredeemed rascality?A soul that weeps atthythreadbare morality?Both grieving thattheirindividualityIs merged in thine?THE REWARD OF MERITDr. Belvillewas regarded as theCrichtonof his age:His tragedies were reckoned much too thoughtful for the stage;His poems held a noble rank, although it's very trueThat, being very proper, they were read by very few.He was a famous Painter, too, and shone upon the "line,"And evenMr. Ruskincame and worshipped at his shrine;But, alas, the school he followed was heroically high—The kind of Art men rave about, but very seldom buy;And everybody said"How can he be repaid—This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!He was a great Inventor, and discovered, all alone,A plan for making everybody's fortune but his own;For, in business, an Inventor's little better than a fool,And my highly-gifted friend was no exception to the rule.His poems—people read them in the Quarterly Reviews—His pictures—they engraved them in theIllustrated News—His inventions—they, perhaps, might have enriched him by degrees,But all his little income went in Patent Office fees;And everybody said"How can he be repaid—This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!At last the point was given up in absolute despair,When a distant cousin died, and he became a millionaire,With a county seat in Parliament, a moor or two of grouse,And a taste for making inconvenient speeches in the House!Thenit flashed upon Britannia that the fittest of rewardsWas, to take him from the Commons and to put him in the Lords!And who so fit to sit in it, deny it if you can,As this very great—this very good—this very gifted man?(Though I'm more than half afraidThat it sometimes may be saidThat we never should have revelled in that source of proper pride,However great his merits—if his cousin hadn't died!)THE GHOST, THE GALLANT, THE GAEL, AND THE GOBLINO'erunreclaimed suburban claysSome years ago were hobblin'An elderly ghost of easy ways,And an influential goblin.The ghost was a sombre spectral shape,A fine 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 pregnant question:"Which of us two is Number One—The ghostie, or the goblin?"And o'er the point they raised in funThey fairly fell a-squabblin'.They'd barely speak, and each, in fine,Grew more and more reflective,Each thought his own particular lineBy far the more effective.At length they settled some one shouldBy each of them be haunted,And so arranged that either couldExert 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 EnglishmanBy yonder tailor's standing."The very fittest man on earthMy influence to try on—Of gentle, p'raps of noble birth,And dauntless as a lion!Now wrap yourself within your shroud—Remain in easy hearing—Observe—you'll hear him scream aloudWhen I begin appearing!"The imp with yell unearthly—wild—Threw off his dark enclosure:His dauntless victim looked and smiledWith 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;For weeks the stripling stood and smiledUnmoved and all undaunted.The sombre ghost exclaimed, "Your planHas failed you, goblin, plainly:Now watch yon hardy Hieland man,So stalwart and ungainly."These are the men who chase the roe,Whose footsteps never falter,Who bring with them where'er they goA smack of oldSir Walter.Of such as he, the men sublimeWho lead their troops victorious,Whose deeds go down to after-time,Enshrined in annals glorious!"Of such as he the bard has said'Hech thrawfu' raltie rawkie!Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperheadAnd fash' wi' unco pawkie!'He'll faint away when I appearUpon his native heather;Or p'raps he'll only scream with fear,Or p'raps the two together."The spectre showed himself, alone,To do his ghostly battling,With curdling groan and dismal moanAnd lots of chains a-rattling!But no—the chiel's stout Gaelic stuffWithstood all ghostly harrying,His fingers closed upon the snuffWhich upwards he was carrying.For days that ghost declined to stir,A foggy, shapeless giant—For weeks that splendid officerStared back again defiant!Just as the Englishman returnedThe goblin's vulgar staring,Just so the Scotchman boldly spurnedThe ghost's unmannered scaring.For several years the ghostly twainThese Britons bold have haunted,But all their efforts are in vain—Their victims stand undaunted.Unto this day the imp and ghost(Whose powers the imp derided)Stand each at his allotted post—The bet is undecided.THE MAGNET AND THE CHURNA Magnethung in a hardware shop,And all around was a loving cropOf scissors and needles, nails and knives,Offering love for all their lives;But for iron the Magnet felt no whim,Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him,From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!His most æsthetic,Very magneticFancy took this turn—"If I can wheedleA knife or needle,Why not a Silver Churn?"And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt,The scissors declared themselves "cut out,"The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,While every nail went off its head,And hither and thither began to roam,Till a hammer came up—and drove it home.While this magneticPeripateticLover he lived to learn,By no endeavour,Can Magnet everAttract a Silver Churn!KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOOKing Borria Bungalee BooWas 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,ToBorriadoubled the knee,They were once on a far larger scale,But he'd eaten the balance, you see("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see).There was haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-Bah.There was lumberingDoodle-Dum-Deh.DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah,And good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.One day there was grief in the crew,For they hadn't a morsel of meat,AndBorria Bungalee BooWas dying for something to eat—"Come, provide me with something to eat!"Alack-a-Dey, famished I feel;Oh, good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,Where on earth shall I look for a meal?For I haven't had dinner to-day!—Not a morsel of dinner to-day!"DearTootle-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-LooIs the Queen of a neighbouring state—A remarkably neighbouring state."Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo,She would pickle deliciously cold—And her four pretty Amazons, too,Are enticing, and not very old—Twenty-seven is not very old."There is neat littleTitty-Fol-Leh,There is rollickingTral-the-Ral-Lah,There is jocularWaggety-Weh,There is musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah—There's the nightingaleDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah!"So the forces ofBungalee BooMarched forth in a terrible row,And the ladies who fought forQueen LooPrepared 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 fallIn a totally different way—A perfectly different way.With a crimson and pearly-white dyeThey endeavoured to make themselves fair;With black they encircled each eye,And with yellow they painted their hair.(It was wool, but they thought it was hair.)The warriors met in the field:And the men ofKing Borriasaid,"Amazonians, immediately yield!"And their arrows they drew to the head—Yes, drew them right up to the head.But jocularWaggety-WehOgledDoodle-Dum-Deh(which was wrong),And neat littleTitty-Fol-LehSaid, "Tootle-Tum, you go along!You naughty old dear, go along!"And rollickingTral-the-Ral-LahTappedAlack-a-Dey-Ahwith her fan;And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-FahSaid, "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 haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-BahSaid, "Alack-a-Dey, what does this mean?"And despairingAlack-a-Dey-AhSaid, "They think us uncommonly green—Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!"Even blunderingDoodle-Dum-DehWas insensible quite to their leers,And said good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,"It's your blood that we're wanting, my dears—We have come for our dinners, my dears!"And the Queen of the Amazons fellToBorria Bungalee Boo,—In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo—The prettyQueen Tol-the-Rol-Loo.And neat littleTitty-Fol-LehWas eaten byPish-Pooh-Bah,And light-heartedWaggety-WehBy dismalAlack-a-Dey-Ah—DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah.And rollickingTral-the-Ral-LahWas eaten byDoodle-Dum-Deh,And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-FahBy good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—-ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.THE FAMILY FOOLOh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,If you listen to popular rumour;From morning to night he's so joyous and bright,And he bubbles with wit and good humour!He's so quaint and so terse, both in prose and in verse;Yet though people forgive his transgression,There are one or two rules that all Family FoolsMust observe, if they love their profession.There are one or two rules,Half-a-dozen, maybe,That all family fools,Of whatever degree,Must observe if they love their profession.If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll needTo consider each person's auricular:What is all right for B would quite scandalise C(For C is so very particular);And D may be dull, and E's very thick skullIs as empty of brains as a ladle;While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp,That he's known your best joke from his cradle!When your humour they flout,You can't let yourself go;And itdoesput you outWhen a person says, "Oh!I have known that old joke from my cradle!"If your master is surly, from getting up early(And tempers are short in the morning),An inopportune joke is enough to provokeHim to give you, at once, a month's warning.Then if you refrain, he is at you again,For he likes to get value for money:He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare,"If you know that you're paid to be funny?"It adds to the tasksOf a merryman's place,When your principal asks,With a scowl on his face,If you know that you're paid to be funny?Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D.—Oh, beware of his anger provoking!Better not pull his hair—don't stick pins in his chair;He won't understand practical joking.If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack,You may get a bland smile from these sages;But should it, by chance, be imported from France,Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!It's a general rule,Though your zeal it may quench,If the Family FoolMakes a joke that'stooFrench,Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,And your senses with toothache you're losing,And you're mopy and flat—they don't fine you for thatIf you're properly quaint and amusing!Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,And took with her your trifle of money;Bless your heart, they don't mind—they're exceedingly kind—They don't blame you—as long as you're funny!It's a comfort to feelIf your partner should flit,Thoughyousuffer a deal,Theydon't mind it a bit—They don't blame you—so long as you're funny!THE PERIWINKLE GIRLI'veoften thought that headstrong youthsOf decent educationDetermine all-important truthsWith strange precipitation.The ever-ready victims they,Of logical illusions,And in a self-assertive wayThey jump at strange conclusions.Now take my case: Ere sorrow couldMy ample forehead wrinkle,I had determined that I shouldNot care to be a winkle."A winkle," I would oft advanceWith readiness provoking,"Can seldom flirt, and never dance,Or soothe his mind by smoking."In short, I spurned the shelly joy,And spoke with strange decision—Men pointed to me as a boyWho held them in derision.But I was young—too young, by far—Or I had been more wary,I knew not then that winkles areThe stock-in-trade ofMary.I had not watched her sunlight blitheAs o'er their shells it dances—I've seen those winkles almost writheBeneath her beaming glances.Of slighting all the winkly broodI surely had been chary,If I had known they formed the foodAnd stock-in-trade ofMary.Both high and low and great and smallFell prostrate at her tootsies,They all were noblemen, and allHad balances atCoutts's.Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,Duke BaileyandDuke Humphy,Who ate her winkles till they feltExceedingly uncomfy.Duke Baileygreatest wealth computes,And sticks, they say, at no-thing,He wears a pair of golden bootsAnd silver underclothing.Duke Humphy, as I understand,Though mentally acuter,His boots are only silver, andHis underclothing pewter.A third adorer had the girl,A man of lowly station—A miserable grov'ling EarlBesought her approbation.This humble cad she did refuseWith much contempt and loathing,He wore a pair of leather shoesAnd cambric underclothing!"Ha! ha!" she cried. "Upon my word!Well, really—come, I never!Oh, go along, it's too absurd!My goodness! Did you ever?"Two Dukes would Mary make a bride,And from her foes defend her"—"Well, not exactly that," they cried,"We offer guilty splendour."We do not offer marriage rite,So please dismiss the notion!""Oh dear," said she, "that alters quiteThe state of my emotion."The Earl he up and says, says he,"Dismiss them to their orgies,For I am game to marry theeQuite reg'lar at St. George's."(He'd had, it happily befell,A decent education,His views would have befitted wellA far superior station.)His sterling worth had worked a cure,She never heard him grumble;She saw his soul was good and pure,Although his rank was humble.Her views of earldoms and their lot,All underwent expansion—Come, Virtue in an earldom's cot!Go, Vice in ducal mansion!SANS SOUCI

Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray;

Though I own that my heart has been ranging,

Of nature the laws I obey,

For nature is constantly changing.

The moon in her phases is found,

The time and the wind and the weather,

The months in succession come round,

And you don't find two Mondays together.

Consider the moral, I pray,

Nor bring a young fellow to sorrow,

Who loves this young lady to-day,

And loves that young lady to-morrow!

You cannot eat breakfast all day,Nor is it the act of a sinner,When breakfast is taken away,To turn your attention to dinner;

You cannot eat breakfast all day,

Nor is it the act of a sinner,

When breakfast is taken away,

To turn your attention to dinner;

And it's not in the range of beliefThat you could hold him as a glutton,Who, when he is tired of beef,Determines to tackle the mutton.But this I am ready to say,If it will diminish their sorrow,I'll marry this lady to-day,And I'll marry that lady to-morrow!

And it's not in the range of belief

That you could hold him as a glutton,

Who, when he is tired of beef,

Determines to tackle the mutton.

But this I am ready to say,

If it will diminish their sorrow,

I'll marry this lady to-day,

And I'll marry that lady to-morrow!

A gentlemanof City fameNow claims your kind attention;West India broking was his game,His name I shall not mention;No one of finely pointed senseWould violate a confidence,And shallIgoAnd 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 employAn 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 fortunateWho owns his chiefAnd only griefIs being very bulky."This load," he'd say, "I cannot bear,I'm nineteen stone or twenty!Henceforward I'll go in for airAnd exercise in plenty."Most people think that, should it come,They can reduce a bulging tumTo measures fairBy taking airAnd exercise in plenty.In every weather, every day,Dry, muddy, wet, or gritty,He took to dancing all the wayFrom Brompton to the City.You do not often get the chanceOf seeing sugar-brokers danceFrom their abodeIn Fulham RoadThrough Brompton to the City.He braved the gay and guileless laughOf children with their nusses,The loud uneducated chaffOf clerks on omnibuses.Against all minor things that rackA nicely balanced mind, I'll backThe noisy chaffAnd ill-bred laughOf clerks on omnibuses.His friends, who heard his money chink,And saw the house he rented,And knew his wife, could never thinkWhat made him discontented.It never struck their simple mindsThat fads are of eccentric kinds,Nor would they ownThat fat aloneCould make one discontented."Your riches know no kind of pause,Your trade is fast advancing,You dance—but not for joy, becauseYou weep as you are dancing.To dance implies that man is glad,To weep implies that man is sad.But here are youWho do the two—You weep as you are dancing!"His mania soon got noised aboutAnd into all the papers—His size increased beyond a doubtFor all his reckless capers:It may seem singular to you,But all his friends admit it true—The more he foundHis 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 meUnpardonable vanity(And worse than that)To call your fatAn "adipose deposit."At length his brawny knees gave way,And on the carpet sinking,Upon his shapeless back he layAnd kicked away like winking.Instead of seeing in his stateThe finger of unswerving Fate,He laboured stillTo work his will,And kicked away like winking.His friends, disgusted with him now,Away in silence wended—I hardly like to tell you howThis dreadful story ended.The shocking sequel to impart,I must employ the limner's art—If you would know,This sketch will showHow his exertions ended.MORALI hate to preach—I hate to prate—I'm no fanatic croaker,But learn contentment from the fateOf this West India broker.He'd everything a man of tasteCould ever want, except a waist:And discontentHis size anent,And bootless perseverance blind,Completely wrecked the peace of mindOf this West India broker.

A gentlemanof City fame

Now claims your kind attention;

West India broking was his game,

His name I shall not mention;

No one of finely pointed sense

Would violate a confidence,

And shallIgo

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 employAn active boy,Six clerks, and seven porters.

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 fortunateWho owns his chiefAnd only griefIs being very bulky.

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 airAnd exercise in plenty."Most people think that, should it come,They can reduce a bulging tumTo measures fairBy taking airAnd exercise in plenty.

"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 tum

To measures fair

By taking air

And exercise in plenty.

In every weather, every day,Dry, muddy, wet, or gritty,He took to dancing all the wayFrom Brompton to the City.You do not often get the chanceOf seeing sugar-brokers danceFrom their abodeIn Fulham RoadThrough Brompton to the City.

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 laughOf children with their nusses,The loud uneducated chaffOf clerks on omnibuses.

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 rackA nicely balanced mind, I'll backThe noisy chaffAnd ill-bred laughOf 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 thinkWhat made him discontented.It never struck their simple mindsThat fads are of eccentric kinds,Nor would they ownThat fat aloneCould make one discontented.

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 struck their simple 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,You dance—but not for joy, becauseYou weep as you are dancing.

"Your riches know no kind of pause,

Your trade is fast advancing,

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 youWho do the two—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 aboutAnd into all the papers—His size increased beyond a doubtFor all his reckless capers:

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 foundHis figure round,The more he cut his 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 meUnpardonable vanity(And worse than that)To call your fatAn "adipose deposit."

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 layAnd kicked away like winking.Instead of seeing in his stateThe finger of unswerving Fate,He laboured stillTo work his will,And kicked away like winking.

At length his brawny knees gave way,

And on the carpet sinking,

Upon his shapeless back he lay

And kicked away like winking.

Instead of seeing in his state

The finger of unswerving Fate,

He laboured still

To work his will,

And kicked away like winking.

His friends, disgusted with him now,Away in silence wended—I hardly like to tell you howThis dreadful story ended.The shocking sequel to impart,I must employ the limner's art—If you would know,This sketch will showHow 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 fateOf this West India broker.He'd everything a man of tasteCould ever want, except a waist:And discontentHis size anent,And bootless perseverance blind,Completely wrecked the peace of mindOf this West India broker.

I hate to preach—I hate to prate—

I'm no fanatic croaker,

But learn contentment from the fate

Of this West 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 West India broker.

Oh! is there not one maiden breastWhich does not feel the moral beautyOf making worldly interestSubordinate to sense of duty?Who would not give up willinglyAll matrimonial ambitionTo rescue such a one as IFrom his unfortunate position?Oh, is there not one maiden here,Whose homely face and bad complexionHave caused all hopes to disappearOf ever winning man's affection?To such a one, if such there be,I swear by heaven's arch above you,If you will cast your eyes on me,—-However plain you be—I'll love you!

Oh! is there not one maiden breast

Which does not feel the moral beauty

Of making worldly interest

Subordinate to sense of duty?

Who would not give up willingly

All matrimonial ambition

To rescue such a one as I

From his unfortunate position?

Oh, is there not one maiden here,Whose homely face and bad complexionHave caused all hopes to disappearOf ever winning man's affection?To such a one, if such there be,I swear by heaven's arch above you,If you will cast your eyes on me,—-However plain you be—I'll love you!

Oh, is there not one maiden here,

Whose homely face and bad complexion

Have caused all hopes to disappear

Of ever winning man's affection?

To such a one, if such there be,

I swear by heaven's arch above you,

If you will cast your eyes on me,—-

However plain you be—I'll love you!

Vast, empty shell!Impertinent, preposterous abortion:With vacant stare,And ragged hair,And every feature out of all proportion!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!Twelve weeks of nightsBefore the lights,Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity,I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally,Credited for the smile you wear externally—I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,As there thou liest!I've been thy brain:I'vebeen the brain that lit thy dull concavity!The human raceInvestmyfaceWith thine expression of unchecked depravity:Invested with a ghastly reciprocity,I'vebeen responsible for thy monstrosity,I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity—But not again!'Tis time to tollThy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:A twelve weeks' run,And thou hast doneAll 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 respondeth.)Oh! master mine,Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using me.Art thou awareOf nothing thereWhich might abuse thee, as thou art abusing me?A brain that mournsthineunredeemed rascality?A soul that weeps atthythreadbare morality?Both grieving thattheirindividualityIs merged in thine?

Vast, empty shell!

Impertinent, preposterous abortion:

With vacant stare,

And ragged hair,

And every feature out of all proportion!

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!Twelve weeks of nightsBefore the lights,Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity,I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally,Credited for the smile you wear externally—I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,As there thou liest!

To-night thou diest,

Beast that destroy'st my heaven-born identity!

Twelve weeks of nights

Before the lights,

Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity,

I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally,

Credited for the smile you wear externally—

I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,

As there thou liest!

I've been thy brain:I'vebeen the brain that lit thy dull concavity!The human raceInvestmyfaceWith thine expression of unchecked depravity:Invested with a ghastly reciprocity,I'vebeen responsible for thy monstrosity,I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity—But not again!

I've been thy brain:

I'vebeen the brain that lit thy dull concavity!

The human race

Investmyface

With thine expression of unchecked depravity:

Invested with a ghastly reciprocity,

I'vebeen responsible for thy monstrosity,

I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity—

But not again!

'Tis time to tollThy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:A twelve weeks' run,And thou hast doneAll 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!

'Tis time to toll

Thy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:

A twelve 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 respondeth.)

Oh! master mine,Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using me.Art thou awareOf nothing thereWhich might abuse thee, as thou art abusing me?A brain that mournsthineunredeemed rascality?A soul that weeps atthythreadbare morality?Both grieving thattheirindividualityIs merged in thine?

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 me?

A brain that mournsthineunredeemed rascality?

A soul that weeps atthythreadbare morality?

Both grieving thattheirindividuality

Is merged in thine?

Dr. Belvillewas regarded as theCrichtonof his age:His tragedies were reckoned much too thoughtful for the stage;His poems held a noble rank, although it's very trueThat, being very proper, they were read by very few.He was a famous Painter, too, and shone upon the "line,"And evenMr. Ruskincame and worshipped at his shrine;But, alas, the school he followed was heroically high—The kind of Art men rave about, but very seldom buy;And everybody said"How can he be repaid—This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!He was a great Inventor, and discovered, all alone,A plan for making everybody's fortune but his own;For, in business, an Inventor's little better than a fool,And my highly-gifted friend was no exception to the rule.His poems—people read them in the Quarterly Reviews—His pictures—they engraved them in theIllustrated News—His inventions—they, perhaps, might have enriched him by degrees,But all his little income went in Patent Office fees;And everybody said"How can he be repaid—This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!At last the point was given up in absolute despair,When a distant cousin died, and he became a millionaire,With a county seat in Parliament, a moor or two of grouse,And a taste for making inconvenient speeches in the House!Thenit flashed upon Britannia that the fittest of rewardsWas, to take him from the Commons and to put him in the Lords!And who so fit to sit in it, deny it if you can,As this very great—this very good—this very gifted man?(Though I'm more than half afraidThat it sometimes may be saidThat we never should have revelled in that source of proper pride,However great his merits—if his cousin hadn't died!)

Dr. Belvillewas regarded as theCrichtonof his age:

His tragedies were reckoned much too thoughtful for the stage;

His poems held a noble rank, although it's very true

That, being very proper, they were read by very few.

He was a famous Painter, too, and shone upon the "line,"

And evenMr. Ruskincame and worshipped at his shrine;

But, alas, the school he followed was heroically high—

The kind of Art men rave about, but very seldom buy;

And everybody said

"How can he be repaid—

This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"

But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!

He was a great Inventor, and discovered, all alone,A plan for making everybody's fortune but his own;For, in business, an Inventor's little better than a fool,And my highly-gifted friend was no exception to the rule.His poems—people read them in the Quarterly Reviews—His pictures—they engraved them in theIllustrated News—His inventions—they, perhaps, might have enriched him by degrees,But all his little income went in Patent Office fees;And everybody said"How can he be repaid—This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!

He was a great Inventor, and discovered, all alone,

A plan for making everybody's fortune but his own;

For, in business, an Inventor's little better than a fool,

And my highly-gifted friend was no exception to the rule.

His poems—people read them in the Quarterly Reviews—

His pictures—they engraved them in theIllustrated News—

His inventions—they, perhaps, might have enriched him by degrees,

But all his little income went in Patent Office fees;

And everybody said

"How can he be repaid—

This very great—this very good—this very gifted man?"

But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan!

At last the point was given up in absolute despair,When a distant cousin died, and he became a millionaire,With a county seat in Parliament, a moor or two of grouse,And a taste for making inconvenient speeches in the House!Thenit flashed upon Britannia that the fittest of rewardsWas, to take him from the Commons and to put him in the Lords!And who so fit to sit in it, deny it if you can,As this very great—this very good—this very gifted man?(Though I'm more than half afraidThat it sometimes may be saidThat we never should have revelled in that source of proper pride,However great his merits—if his cousin hadn't died!)

At last the point was given up in absolute despair,

When a distant cousin died, and he became a millionaire,

With a county seat in Parliament, a moor or two of grouse,

And a taste for making inconvenient speeches in the House!

Thenit flashed upon Britannia that the fittest of rewards

Was, to take him from the Commons and to put him in the Lords!

And who so fit to sit in it, deny it if you can,

As this very great—this very good—this very gifted man?

(Though I'm more than half afraid

That it sometimes may be said

That we never should have revelled in that source of proper pride,

However great his merits—if his cousin hadn't died!)

O'erunreclaimed suburban claysSome years ago were hobblin'An elderly ghost of easy ways,And an influential goblin.The ghost was a sombre spectral shape,A fine 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 pregnant question:"Which of us two is Number One—The ghostie, or the goblin?"And o'er the point they raised in funThey fairly fell a-squabblin'.They'd barely speak, and each, in fine,Grew more and more reflective,Each thought his own particular lineBy far the more effective.At length they settled some one shouldBy each of them be haunted,And so arranged that either couldExert 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 EnglishmanBy yonder tailor's standing."The very fittest man on earthMy influence to try on—Of gentle, p'raps of noble birth,And dauntless as a lion!Now wrap yourself within your shroud—Remain in easy hearing—Observe—you'll hear him scream aloudWhen I begin appearing!"The imp with yell unearthly—wild—Threw off his dark enclosure:His dauntless victim looked and smiledWith 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;For weeks the stripling stood and smiledUnmoved and all undaunted.The sombre ghost exclaimed, "Your planHas failed you, goblin, plainly:Now watch yon hardy Hieland man,So stalwart and ungainly."These are the men who chase the roe,Whose footsteps never falter,Who bring with them where'er they goA smack of oldSir Walter.Of such as he, the men sublimeWho lead their troops victorious,Whose deeds go down to after-time,Enshrined in annals glorious!"Of such as he the bard has said'Hech thrawfu' raltie rawkie!Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperheadAnd fash' wi' unco pawkie!'He'll faint away when I appearUpon his native heather;Or p'raps he'll only scream with fear,Or p'raps the two together."The spectre showed himself, alone,To do his ghostly battling,With curdling groan and dismal moanAnd lots of chains a-rattling!But no—the chiel's stout Gaelic stuffWithstood all ghostly harrying,His fingers closed upon the snuffWhich upwards he was carrying.For days that ghost declined to stir,A foggy, shapeless giant—For weeks that splendid officerStared back again defiant!Just as the Englishman returnedThe goblin's vulgar staring,Just so the Scotchman boldly spurnedThe ghost's unmannered scaring.For several years the ghostly twainThese Britons bold have haunted,But all their efforts are in vain—Their victims stand undaunted.Unto this day the imp and ghost(Whose powers the imp derided)Stand each at his allotted post—The bet is undecided.

O'erunreclaimed 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 fine 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 pregnant question:"Which of us two is Number One—The ghostie, or the goblin?"And o'er the point they raised in funThey fairly fell a-squabblin'.

And as they exercised their joints,

Promoting quick digestion,

They talked on several curious points,

And raised this pregnant 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'd barely speak, and each, in fine,Grew more and more reflective,Each thought his own particular lineBy far the more effective.At length they settled some one shouldBy each of them be haunted,And so arranged that either couldExert his prowess vaunted.

They'd barely speak, and each, in fine,

Grew more and more reflective,

Each thought his own particular line

By far the more effective.

At length they settled some one should

By each of them be haunted,

And so arranged 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 EnglishmanBy yonder tailor's standing.

"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 earthMy influence to try on—Of gentle, p'raps of noble birth,And dauntless as a lion!Now wrap yourself within your shroud—Remain in easy hearing—Observe—you'll hear him scream aloudWhen I begin appearing!"

"The very fittest man on earth

My influence to try on—

Of gentle, p'raps 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 smiledWith 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.

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;For weeks the stripling stood and smiledUnmoved and all undaunted.The sombre ghost exclaimed, "Your planHas failed you, goblin, plainly:Now watch yon hardy Hieland man,So stalwart and ungainly.

For weeks the goblin weird and wild,

That noble stripling haunted;

For weeks the stripling stood and smiled

Unmoved and all undaunted.

The sombre ghost exclaimed, "Your plan

Has failed you, goblin, plainly:

Now watch yon hardy Hieland man,

So stalwart and ungainly.

"These are the men who chase the roe,Whose footsteps never falter,Who bring with them where'er they goA smack of oldSir Walter.Of such as he, the men sublimeWho lead their troops victorious,Whose deeds go down to after-time,Enshrined in annals glorious!

"These are the men who chase the roe,

Whose footsteps never falter,

Who bring with them where'er they go

A smack of oldSir Walter.

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'Hech thrawfu' raltie rawkie!Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperheadAnd fash' wi' unco pawkie!'He'll faint away when I appearUpon his native heather;Or p'raps he'll only scream with fear,Or p'raps the two together."

"Of such as he the bard has said

'Hech thrawfu' raltie rawkie!

Wi' thecht ta' croonie clapperhead

And fash' wi' unco pawkie!'

He'll faint away when I appear

Upon his native heather;

Or p'raps he'll only scream with fear,

Or p'raps the two together."

The spectre showed himself, alone,To do his ghostly battling,With curdling groan and dismal moanAnd lots of chains a-rattling!But no—the chiel's stout Gaelic stuffWithstood all ghostly harrying,His fingers closed upon the snuffWhich upwards he was carrying.

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 chiel'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 officerStared back again defiant!Just as the Englishman returnedThe goblin's vulgar staring,Just so the Scotchman boldly spurnedThe ghost's unmannered scaring.

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 twainThese Britons bold have haunted,But all their efforts are in vain—Their victims stand undaunted.Unto this day the imp and ghost(Whose powers the imp derided)Stand each at his allotted post—The bet is undecided.

For several years the ghostly twain

These Britons bold have haunted,

But all their efforts are in vain—

Their victims stand undaunted.

Unto this day the imp and ghost

(Whose powers the imp derided)

Stand each at his allotted post—

The bet is undecided.

A Magnethung in a hardware shop,And all around was a loving cropOf scissors and needles, nails and knives,Offering love for all their lives;But for iron the Magnet felt no whim,Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him,From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!His most æsthetic,Very magneticFancy took this turn—"If I can wheedleA knife or needle,Why not a Silver Churn?"And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt,The scissors declared themselves "cut out,"The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,While every nail went off its head,And hither and thither began to roam,Till a hammer came up—and drove it home.While this magneticPeripateticLover he lived to learn,By no endeavour,Can Magnet everAttract a Silver Churn!

A Magnethung in a hardware shop,

And all around was a loving crop

Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,

Offering love for all their lives;

But for iron the Magnet felt no whim,

Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him,

From needles and nails and knives he'd turn,

For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn!

His most æsthetic,

Very magnetic

Fancy took this turn—

"If I can wheedle

A knife or needle,

Why not a Silver Churn?"

And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt,The scissors declared themselves "cut out,"The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,While every nail went off its head,And hither and thither began to roam,Till a hammer came up—and drove it home.While this magneticPeripateticLover he lived to learn,By no endeavour,Can Magnet everAttract a Silver Churn!

And Iron and Steel expressed surprise,

The needles opened their well-drilled eyes,

The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt,

The scissors declared themselves "cut out,"

The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said,

While every nail went off its head,

And hither and thither began to roam,

Till a hammer came up—and drove it home.

While this magnetic

Peripatetic

Lover he lived to learn,

By no endeavour,

Can Magnet ever

Attract a Silver Churn!

King Borria Bungalee BooWas 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,ToBorriadoubled the knee,They were once on a far larger scale,But he'd eaten the balance, you see("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see).There was haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-Bah.There was lumberingDoodle-Dum-Deh.DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah,And good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.One day there was grief in the crew,For they hadn't a morsel of meat,AndBorria Bungalee BooWas dying for something to eat—"Come, provide me with something to eat!"Alack-a-Dey, famished I feel;Oh, good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,Where on earth shall I look for a meal?For I haven't had dinner to-day!—Not a morsel of dinner to-day!"DearTootle-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-LooIs the Queen of a neighbouring state—A remarkably neighbouring state."Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo,She would pickle deliciously cold—And her four pretty Amazons, too,Are enticing, and not very old—Twenty-seven is not very old."There is neat littleTitty-Fol-Leh,There is rollickingTral-the-Ral-Lah,There is jocularWaggety-Weh,There is musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah—There's the nightingaleDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah!"So the forces ofBungalee BooMarched forth in a terrible row,And the ladies who fought forQueen LooPrepared 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 fallIn a totally different way—A perfectly different way.With a crimson and pearly-white dyeThey endeavoured to make themselves fair;With black they encircled each eye,And with yellow they painted their hair.(It was wool, but they thought it was hair.)The warriors met in the field:And the men ofKing Borriasaid,"Amazonians, immediately yield!"And their arrows they drew to the head—Yes, drew them right up to the head.But jocularWaggety-WehOgledDoodle-Dum-Deh(which was wrong),And neat littleTitty-Fol-LehSaid, "Tootle-Tum, you go along!You naughty old dear, go along!"And rollickingTral-the-Ral-LahTappedAlack-a-Dey-Ahwith her fan;And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-FahSaid, "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 haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-BahSaid, "Alack-a-Dey, what does this mean?"And despairingAlack-a-Dey-AhSaid, "They think us uncommonly green—Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!"Even blunderingDoodle-Dum-DehWas insensible quite to their leers,And said good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,"It's your blood that we're wanting, my dears—We have come for our dinners, my dears!"And the Queen of the Amazons fellToBorria Bungalee Boo,—In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo—The prettyQueen Tol-the-Rol-Loo.And neat littleTitty-Fol-LehWas eaten byPish-Pooh-Bah,And light-heartedWaggety-WehBy dismalAlack-a-Dey-Ah—DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah.And rollickingTral-the-Ral-LahWas eaten byDoodle-Dum-Deh,And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-FahBy good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—-ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.

King Borria Bungalee BooWas a man-eating African swell;His sigh was a hullaballoo,His whisper a horrible yell—A horrible, horrible yell!

King Borria Bungalee 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,ToBorriadoubled the knee,They were once on a far larger scale,But he'd eaten the balance, you see("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see).

Four subjects, and all of them male,

ToBorriadoubled the knee,

They were once on a far larger scale,

But he'd eaten the balance, you see

("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see).

There was haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-Bah.There was lumberingDoodle-Dum-Deh.DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah,And good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.

There was haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-Bah.

There was lumberingDoodle-Dum-Deh.

DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah,

And good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—

ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.

One day there was grief in the crew,For they hadn't a morsel of meat,AndBorria Bungalee BooWas dying for something to eat—"Come, provide me with something to eat!

One day there was grief in the crew,

For they hadn't a morsel of meat,

AndBorria Bungalee Boo

Was dying for something to eat—

"Come, provide me with something to eat!

"Alack-a-Dey, famished I feel;Oh, good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,Where on earth shall I look for a meal?For I haven't had dinner to-day!—Not a morsel of dinner to-day!

"Alack-a-Dey, famished I feel;

Oh, good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,

Where on earth shall I look for a meal?

For I haven't had dinner to-day!—

Not a morsel of dinner to-day!

"DearTootle-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!"

"DearTootle-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-LooIs the Queen of a neighbouring state—A remarkably neighbouring state.

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.

"Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo,She would pickle deliciously cold—And her four pretty Amazons, too,Are enticing, and not very old—Twenty-seven is not very old.

"Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo,

She would pickle deliciously cold—

And her four pretty Amazons, too,

Are enticing, and not very old—

Twenty-seven is not very old.

"There is neat littleTitty-Fol-Leh,There is rollickingTral-the-Ral-Lah,There is jocularWaggety-Weh,There is musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah—There's the nightingaleDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah!"

"There is neat littleTitty-Fol-Leh,

There is rollickingTral-the-Ral-Lah,

There is jocularWaggety-Weh,

There is musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah—

There's the nightingaleDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah!"

So the forces ofBungalee BooMarched forth in a terrible row,And the ladies who fought forQueen LooPrepared to encounter the foe—This dreadful insatiate foe!

So the forces ofBungalee Boo

Marched forth in a terrible row,

And the ladies who fought forQueen 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 fallIn a totally different way—A perfectly different way.

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—

A perfectly different way.

With a crimson and pearly-white dyeThey endeavoured to make themselves fair;With black they encircled each eye,And with yellow they painted their hair.(It was wool, but they thought it was hair.)

With a crimson and pearly-white dye

They endeavoured to make themselves fair;

With black they encircled each eye,

And with yellow they painted their hair.

(It was wool, but they thought it was hair.)

The warriors met in the field:And the men ofKing Borriasaid,"Amazonians, immediately yield!"And their arrows they drew to the head—Yes, drew them right up to the head.

The warriors met in the field:

And the men ofKing Borriasaid,

"Amazonians, immediately yield!"

And their arrows they drew to the head—

Yes, drew them right up to the head.

But jocularWaggety-WehOgledDoodle-Dum-Deh(which was wrong),And neat littleTitty-Fol-LehSaid, "Tootle-Tum, you go along!You naughty old dear, go along!"

But jocularWaggety-Weh

OgledDoodle-Dum-Deh(which was wrong),

And neat littleTitty-Fol-Leh

Said, "Tootle-Tum, you go along!

You naughty old dear, go along!"

And rollickingTral-the-Ral-LahTappedAlack-a-Dey-Ahwith her fan;And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-FahSaid, "Pish, go away, you bad man!Go away, you delightful young man!"

And rollickingTral-the-Ral-Lah

TappedAlack-a-Dey-Ahwith her fan;

And musicalDoh-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).

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 haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-BahSaid, "Alack-a-Dey, what does this mean?"And despairingAlack-a-Dey-AhSaid, "They think us uncommonly green—Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!"

But haughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-Bah

Said, "Alack-a-Dey, what does this mean?"

And despairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah

Said, "They think us uncommonly green—

Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!"

Even blunderingDoodle-Dum-DehWas insensible quite to their leers,And said good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,"It's your blood that we're wanting, my dears—We have come for our dinners, my dears!"

Even blunderingDoodle-Dum-Deh

Was insensible quite to their leers,

And said good littleTootle-Tum-Teh,

"It's your blood that we're wanting, my dears—

We have come for our dinners, my dears!"

And the Queen of the Amazons fellToBorria Bungalee Boo,—In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo—The prettyQueen Tol-the-Rol-Loo.

And the Queen of the Amazons fell

ToBorria Bungalee Boo,—

In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,

Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo—

The prettyQueen Tol-the-Rol-Loo.

And neat littleTitty-Fol-LehWas eaten byPish-Pooh-Bah,And light-heartedWaggety-WehBy dismalAlack-a-Dey-Ah—DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah.

And neat littleTitty-Fol-Leh

Was eaten byPish-Pooh-Bah,

And light-heartedWaggety-Weh

By dismalAlack-a-Dey-Ah—

DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah.

And rollickingTral-the-Ral-LahWas eaten byDoodle-Dum-Deh,And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-FahBy good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—-ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.

And rollickingTral-the-Ral-Lah

Was eaten byDoodle-Dum-Deh,

And musicalDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah

By good littleTootle-Tum-Teh—-

ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh.

Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,If you listen to popular rumour;From morning to night he's so joyous and bright,And he bubbles with wit and good humour!He's so quaint and so terse, both in prose and in verse;Yet though people forgive his transgression,There are one or two rules that all Family FoolsMust observe, if they love their profession.There are one or two rules,Half-a-dozen, maybe,That all family fools,Of whatever degree,Must observe if they love their profession.If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll needTo consider each person's auricular:What is all right for B would quite scandalise C(For C is so very particular);And D may be dull, and E's very thick skullIs as empty of brains as a ladle;While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp,That he's known your best joke from his cradle!When your humour they flout,You can't let yourself go;And itdoesput you outWhen a person says, "Oh!I have known that old joke from my cradle!"If your master is surly, from getting up early(And tempers are short in the morning),An inopportune joke is enough to provokeHim to give you, at once, a month's warning.Then if you refrain, he is at you again,For he likes to get value for money:He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare,"If you know that you're paid to be funny?"It adds to the tasksOf a merryman's place,When your principal asks,With a scowl on his face,If you know that you're paid to be funny?Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D.—Oh, beware of his anger provoking!Better not pull his hair—don't stick pins in his chair;He won't understand practical joking.If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack,You may get a bland smile from these sages;But should it, by chance, be imported from France,Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!It's a general rule,Though your zeal it may quench,If the Family FoolMakes a joke that'stooFrench,Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,And your senses with toothache you're losing,And you're mopy and flat—they don't fine you for thatIf you're properly quaint and amusing!Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,And took with her your trifle of money;Bless your heart, they don't mind—they're exceedingly kind—They don't blame you—as long as you're funny!It's a comfort to feelIf your partner should flit,Thoughyousuffer a deal,Theydon't mind it a bit—They don't blame you—so long as you're funny!

Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,

If you listen to popular rumour;

From morning to night he's so joyous and bright,

And he bubbles with wit and good humour!

He's so quaint and so terse, both in prose and in verse;

Yet though people forgive his transgression,

There are one or two rules that all Family Fools

Must observe, if they love their profession.

There are one or two rules,

Half-a-dozen, maybe,

That all family fools,

Of whatever degree,

Must observe if they love their profession.

If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll needTo consider each person's auricular:What is all right for B would quite scandalise C(For C is so very particular);

If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll need

To consider each person's auricular:

What is all right for B would quite scandalise C

(For C is so very particular);

And D may be dull, and E's very thick skullIs as empty of brains as a ladle;While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp,That he's known your best joke from his cradle!When your humour they flout,You can't let yourself go;And itdoesput you outWhen a person says, "Oh!I have known that old joke from my cradle!"

And D may be dull, and E's very thick skull

Is as empty of brains as a ladle;

While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp,

That he's known your best joke from his cradle!

When your humour they flout,

You can't let yourself go;

And itdoesput you out

When a person says, "Oh!

I have known that old joke from my cradle!"

If your master is surly, from getting up early(And tempers are short in the morning),An inopportune joke is enough to provokeHim to give you, at once, a month's warning.Then if you refrain, he is at you again,For he likes to get value for money:He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare,"If you know that you're paid to be funny?"It adds to the tasksOf a merryman's place,When your principal asks,With a scowl on his face,If you know that you're paid to be funny?

If your master is surly, from getting up early

(And tempers are short in the morning),

An inopportune joke is enough to provoke

Him to give you, at once, a month's warning.

Then if you refrain, he is at you again,

For he likes to get value for money:

He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare,

"If you know that you're paid to be funny?"

It adds to the tasks

Of a merryman's place,

When your principal asks,

With a scowl on his face,

If you know that you're paid to be funny?

Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D.—Oh, beware of his anger provoking!Better not pull his hair—don't stick pins in his chair;He won't understand practical joking.If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack,You may get a bland smile from these sages;But should it, by chance, be imported from France,Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!It's a general rule,Though your zeal it may quench,If the Family FoolMakes a joke that'stooFrench,Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!

Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D.—

Oh, beware of his anger provoking!

Better not pull his hair—don't stick pins in his chair;

He won't understand practical joking.

If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack,

You may get a bland smile from these sages;

But should it, by chance, be imported from France,

Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!

It's a general rule,

Though your zeal it may quench,

If the Family Fool

Makes a joke that'stooFrench,

Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!

Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,And your senses with toothache you're losing,And you're mopy and flat—they don't fine you for thatIf you're properly quaint and amusing!Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,And took with her your trifle of money;Bless your heart, they don't mind—they're exceedingly kind—They don't blame you—as long as you're funny!It's a comfort to feelIf your partner should flit,Thoughyousuffer a deal,Theydon't mind it a bit—They don't blame you—so long as you're funny!

Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,

And your senses with toothache you're losing,

And you're mopy and flat—they don't fine you for that

If you're properly quaint and amusing!

Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,

And took with her your trifle of money;

Bless your heart, they don't mind—they're exceedingly kind—

They don't blame you—as long as you're funny!

It's a comfort to feel

If your partner should flit,

Thoughyousuffer a deal,

Theydon't mind it a bit—

They don't blame you—so long as you're funny!

I'veoften thought that headstrong youthsOf decent educationDetermine all-important truthsWith strange precipitation.The ever-ready victims they,Of logical illusions,And in a self-assertive wayThey jump at strange conclusions.Now take my case: Ere sorrow couldMy ample forehead wrinkle,I had determined that I shouldNot care to be a winkle."A winkle," I would oft advanceWith readiness provoking,"Can seldom flirt, and never dance,Or soothe his mind by smoking."In short, I spurned the shelly joy,And spoke with strange decision—Men pointed to me as a boyWho held them in derision.But I was young—too young, by far—Or I had been more wary,I knew not then that winkles areThe stock-in-trade ofMary.I had not watched her sunlight blitheAs o'er their shells it dances—I've seen those winkles almost writheBeneath her beaming glances.Of slighting all the winkly broodI surely had been chary,If I had known they formed the foodAnd stock-in-trade ofMary.Both high and low and great and smallFell prostrate at her tootsies,They all were noblemen, and allHad balances atCoutts's.Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,Duke BaileyandDuke Humphy,Who ate her winkles till they feltExceedingly uncomfy.Duke Baileygreatest wealth computes,And sticks, they say, at no-thing,He wears a pair of golden bootsAnd silver underclothing.Duke Humphy, as I understand,Though mentally acuter,His boots are only silver, andHis underclothing pewter.A third adorer had the girl,A man of lowly station—A miserable grov'ling EarlBesought her approbation.This humble cad she did refuseWith much contempt and loathing,He wore a pair of leather shoesAnd cambric underclothing!"Ha! ha!" she cried. "Upon my word!Well, really—come, I never!Oh, go along, it's too absurd!My goodness! Did you ever?"Two Dukes would Mary make a bride,And from her foes defend her"—"Well, not exactly that," they cried,"We offer guilty splendour."We do not offer marriage rite,So please dismiss the notion!""Oh dear," said she, "that alters quiteThe state of my emotion."The Earl he up and says, says he,"Dismiss them to their orgies,For I am game to marry theeQuite reg'lar at St. George's."(He'd had, it happily befell,A decent education,His views would have befitted wellA far superior station.)His sterling worth had worked a cure,She never heard him grumble;She saw his soul was good and pure,Although his rank was humble.Her views of earldoms and their lot,All underwent expansion—Come, Virtue in an earldom's cot!Go, Vice in ducal mansion!

I'veoften thought that headstrong youthsOf decent educationDetermine all-important truthsWith strange precipitation.

I'veoften thought that headstrong youths

Of decent education

Determine all-important truths

With strange precipitation.

The ever-ready victims they,Of logical illusions,And in a self-assertive wayThey jump at strange conclusions.

The ever-ready victims they,

Of logical illusions,

And in a self-assertive way

They jump at strange conclusions.

Now take my case: Ere sorrow couldMy ample forehead wrinkle,I had determined that I shouldNot care to be a winkle.

Now take my case: Ere sorrow could

My ample forehead wrinkle,

I had determined that I should

Not care to be a winkle.

"A winkle," I would oft advanceWith readiness provoking,"Can seldom flirt, and never dance,Or soothe his mind by smoking."

"A winkle," I would oft advance

With readiness provoking,

"Can seldom flirt, and never dance,

Or soothe his mind by smoking."

In short, I spurned the shelly joy,And spoke with strange decision—Men pointed to me as a boyWho held them in derision.

In short, I spurned the shelly joy,

And spoke with strange decision—

Men pointed to me as a boy

Who held them in derision.

But I was young—too young, by far—Or I had been more wary,I knew not then that winkles areThe stock-in-trade ofMary.

But I was young—too young, by far—

Or I had been more wary,

I knew not then that winkles are

The stock-in-trade ofMary.

I had not watched her sunlight blitheAs o'er their shells it dances—I've seen those winkles almost writheBeneath her beaming glances.

I had not watched her sunlight blithe

As o'er their shells it dances—

I've seen those winkles almost writhe

Beneath her beaming glances.

Of slighting all the winkly broodI surely had been chary,If I had known they formed the foodAnd stock-in-trade ofMary.

Of slighting all the winkly brood

I surely had been chary,

If I had known they formed the food

And stock-in-trade ofMary.

Both high and low and great and smallFell prostrate at her tootsies,They all were noblemen, and allHad balances atCoutts's.

Both high and low and great and small

Fell prostrate at her tootsies,

They all were noblemen, and all

Had balances atCoutts's.

Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,Duke BaileyandDuke Humphy,Who ate her winkles till they feltExceedingly uncomfy.

Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,

Duke BaileyandDuke Humphy,

Who ate her winkles till they felt

Exceedingly uncomfy.

Duke Baileygreatest wealth computes,And sticks, they say, at no-thing,He wears a pair of golden bootsAnd silver underclothing.

Duke Baileygreatest wealth computes,

And sticks, they say, at no-thing,

He wears a pair of golden boots

And silver underclothing.

Duke Humphy, as I understand,Though mentally acuter,His boots are only silver, andHis underclothing pewter.

Duke Humphy, as I understand,

Though mentally acuter,

His boots are only silver, and

His underclothing pewter.

A third adorer had the girl,A man of lowly station—A miserable grov'ling EarlBesought her approbation.

A third adorer had the girl,

A man of lowly station—

A miserable grov'ling Earl

Besought her approbation.

This humble cad she did refuseWith much contempt and loathing,He wore a pair of leather shoesAnd cambric underclothing!

This humble cad she did refuse

With much contempt and loathing,

He wore a pair of leather shoes

And cambric underclothing!

"Ha! ha!" she cried. "Upon my word!Well, really—come, I never!Oh, go along, it's too absurd!My goodness! Did you ever?

"Ha! ha!" she cried. "Upon my word!

Well, really—come, I never!

Oh, go along, it's too absurd!

My goodness! Did you ever?

"Two Dukes would Mary make a bride,And from her foes defend her"—"Well, not exactly that," they cried,"We offer guilty splendour.

"Two Dukes would Mary make a bride,

And from her foes defend her"—

"Well, not exactly that," they cried,

"We offer guilty splendour.

"We do not offer marriage rite,So please dismiss the notion!""Oh dear," said she, "that alters quiteThe state of my emotion."

"We do not offer marriage rite,

So please dismiss the notion!"

"Oh dear," said she, "that alters quite

The state of my emotion."

The Earl he up and says, says he,"Dismiss them to their orgies,For I am game to marry theeQuite reg'lar at St. George's."

The Earl he up and says, says he,

"Dismiss them to their orgies,

For I am game to marry thee

Quite reg'lar at St. George's."

(He'd had, it happily befell,A decent education,His views would have befitted wellA far superior station.)

(He'd had, it happily befell,

A decent education,

His views would have befitted well

A far superior station.)

His sterling worth had worked a cure,She never heard him grumble;She saw his soul was good and pure,Although his rank was humble.

His sterling worth had worked a cure,

She never heard him grumble;

She saw his soul was good and pure,

Although his rank was humble.

Her views of earldoms and their lot,All underwent expansion—Come, Virtue in an earldom's cot!Go, Vice in ducal mansion!

Her views of earldoms and their lot,

All underwent expansion—

Come, Virtue in an earldom's cot!

Go, Vice in ducal mansion!

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