THE TWO MAJORS

He.Prithee, pretty maiden—prithee, tell me true(Hey, but I'm doleful, willow, willow waly!)Have you e'er a lover a-dangling after you?Hey, willow waly O!I would fain discoverIf you have a lover?Hey, willow waly O!She.Gentle sir, my heart is frolicsome and free—(Hey, but he's doleful, willow, willow waly!)Nobody I care for comes a-courting me—Hey, willow waly O!Nobody I care forComes a-courting—therefore,Hey, willow waly O!He.Prithee, pretty maiden, will you marry me?(Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow, willow waly!)I may say, at once, I'm a man of propertee—Hey, willow waly O!Money, I despise it,But many people prize it,Hey, willow waly O!She.Gentle sir, although to marry I design—(Hey, but he's hopeful, willow, willow waly!)As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline.Hey, willow waly O!To other maidens go you—As yet I do not know you,Hey, willow waly O!THE TWO MAJORSAnexcellent 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 corpsSo little asMajor La Guerre—No officers swore at his warriors moreThanMajor Makredi Prepere.Their soldiers adored them, and every gradeDelighted to hear them abuse;Though whenever these officers came on parade,They shivered and shook in their shoes."No doubt we deserve it—no mercy we crave—Go on—you're conferring a boon;We would rather be slanged by a warrior braveThan praised by a wretched poltroon!"Makrediwould say that in battle's fierce rageTrue happiness only was met:PoorMajor Makredi, though fifty his age,Had never known happiness yet!La Guerrewould declare, "With the blood of a foeNo 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 they also agreed in adoring, alas!The Vivandière, prettyFillette.Agreement, we know, may be carried too far,And after agreeing all roundFor years—in this soldierly "maid of the bar,"A bone of contention they found."On the day that you marry her," mutteredPrepere(With a pistol he quietly played),"I'll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear,All over the stony parade!""I cannot dothatto you," answeredLa Guerre,"Whatever events may befall;But thisI cando—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 prettyFillette."I am not afraid," thoughtMakredi Prepere:"For my country I'm ready to fall;But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,To be eaten, moustachios and all!"Besides, thoughLa Guerrehas his faults, I'll allowHe'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," saidLa Guerre, "as you guess—I sneer at an enemy's blade;But I don't wantPrepereto get into a messFor splashing the stony parade!"One day on parade toPrepereandLa GuerreCameCorporal Jacot Debette,And, trembling all over, he prayed of them thereTo give him the prettyFillette."You see, I am willing to marry my brideUntil you've arranged this affair;I will blow out my brains when your honours decideWhich marries the sweet Vivandière!""Well, take her," said both of them in a duet(A favourite form of reply),"But when I am ready to marryFillette,Remember you've promised to die!"He married her then: from the flowery plainsOf existence the roses they cull:He lived and he died with his wife; and his brainsAre reposing in peace in his skull.LIFE IS LOVELY ALL THE YEARWhenthe buds are blossoming,Smiling welcome to the spring,Lovers choose a wedding day—Life is love in merry May!Spring is green—Fal lal la!Summer's rose—Fal lal la!It is sad when Summer goes,Fal la!Autumn's gold—Fal lal la!Winter's grey—Fal lal la!Winter still is far away—Fal la!Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;Winter is the end of all.Spring and summer teem with glee:Spring and summer, then, for me!Fal la!In the Spring-time seed is sown:In the Summer grass is mown:In the Autumn you may reap:Winter is the time for sleep.Spring is hope—Fal lal la!Summer's joy—Fal lal la!Spring and Summer never cloy,Fal la!Autumn, toil—Fal lal la!Winter, rest—Fal lal la!Winter, after all, is best—Fal la!Spring and summer pleasure you,Autumn, ay, and winter, too—Every season has its cheer;Life is lovely all the year!Fal la!EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND IA DERBY LEGENDEmily Janewas a nursery maid—Jameswas a bold Life Guard,AndJohnwas a constable, poorly paid(And I am a doggerel bard).A very good girl wasEmily Jane,Jimmywas good and true,AndJohnwas a very good man in the main(And I am a good man, too).Rivals forEmmiewereJohnnyandJames,ThoughEmilyliked them both;She couldn't tell which had the strongest claims(AndIcouldn't take my oath).But sooner or later you're certain to findYour sentiments can't lie hid—Janethought it was time that she made up her mind(And I think it was time she did).SaidJane, with a smirk, and a blush on her face,"I'll promise to wed the boyWho takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!"(WhichIwould have done, with joy.)FromJohnnyescaped an expression of pain,ButJimmysaid, "Done with you!I'll take you with pleasure, myEmily Jane"(And I would have said so too).Johnlay on the ground, and he roared like mad(ForJohnnywas sore perplexed),And he kicked very hard at a very small lad(WhichIoften do, when vexed).ForJohnwas on duty next day with the Force,To punish all Epsom crimes;Some peoplewillcross, when they're clearing the course(I do it myself, sometimes).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).AndJimmywent down with hisJanethat day,AndJohnby the collar or napeSeized everybody who came in his way(AndIhad a narrow escape).He noticed hisEmily JanewithJim,And envied the well-made elf;And people remarked that he muttered "Oh, dim!"(I often say "dim!" myself.)Johndogged them all day, without asking their leaves:For his sergeant he told, aside,ThatJimmyandJanewere notorious thieves(And I think he was justified).ButJameswouldn't dream of abstracting a fork,AndJennywould blush with shameAt stealing so much as a bottle or cork(A bottle I think fair game).But, ah! there's another more serious crime!They wickedly strayed uponThe course, at a critical moment of time(I pointed them out toJohn).The crusher came down on the pair in a crack—And then, with a demon smile,LetJennycross over, but sentJimmyback(I played on my harp the while).SternJohnnytheir agony loud deridesWith a very triumphant sneer—They weep and they wail from the opposite sides(AndIshed a silent tear).AndJennyis crying away like mad,AndJimmyis swearing hard;AndJohnnyis looking uncommonly glad(And I am a doggerel bard).ButJimmyhe ventured on crossing againThe scenes of our Isthmian Games—Johncaught him, and collared him, giving him pain(I felt very much forJames).Johnled him away with a victor's hand,AndJimmywas shortly seenIn the station-house under the grand Grand Stand(As many a timeI'vebeen).AndJimmy, bad boy, was imprisoned for life,ThoughEmilypleaded hard;AndJohnnyhadEmily Janeto wife(And I am a doggerel bard).THE USHER'S CHARGENow, Jurymen, hear my advice—All kinds of vulgar prejudiceI pray you set aside:With stern judicial frame of mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:Observe the features of her face—The broken-hearted bride!Condole with her distress of mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!And when amid the plaintiff's shrieks,The ruffianly defendant speaks—Upon the other side;Whathemay say you need not mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITYOld Peterled a wretched life—OldPeterhad a furious wife;OldPeter, too, was truly stout,He measured several yards about.The little fairyPicklekinOne summer afternoon looked in,And said, "OldPeter, how-de-do?Can I do anything for you?"I have three gifts—the first will giveUnbounded riches while you live;The second, health where'er you be;The third, invisibility.""O, little fairyPicklekin,"OldPeteranswered, with a grin,"To hesitate would be absurd,—Undoubtedly I choose the third.""'Tis yours," the fairy said; "be quiteInvisible to mortal sightWhene'er you please. Remember meMost kindly, pray, toMrs. P."OldMrs. PeteroverheardWeePicklekin'sconcluding word,And, jealous of her girlhood's choice,Said, "That was some young woman's voice!"OldPeterlet her scold and swear—OldPeter, 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:OldPetervanished like a shot,But then—his suit of clothes did not.For when conferred the fairy slimInvisibility 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.OldMrs. Petersoon beganTo see the failure of his plan,And then resolved (I quote the bard)To "hoist him with his own petard."OldPeterwoke next day and dressed,Put on his coat and shoes and vest,His shirt and stock—but could not findHis only pair of—never mind!OldPeterwas a decent man,And though he twigged his lady's plan,Yet, hearing her approaching, heResumed invisibility."DearMrs. 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 sworeShe'd keep his—what I said before—To make him publicly absurd;AndMrs. Peterkept 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 plainI cannot come to sight again!"For though some mirth it might affordTo see my clothes without their lord,Yet there would rise indignant oathsIf he were seen without his clothes!"But no; resolved to have her quiz,The lady held her own—and his—AndPeterleft his humble cotTo find a pair of—you know what.But—here's the worst of this affair—-Whene'er he came across a pairAlready 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!OldPeterwalks through wind and rainResolved to train, and train, and train,Until he weighs twelve stone or so—And when he does, I'll let you know.THE GREAT OAK TREETheregrew a little flower'Neath a great oak tree:When the tempest 'gan to lowerLittle heeded she:No need had she to cower,For she dreaded not its power—She was happy in the bowerOf her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!When she found that he was fickle,Was that great oak tree,She was in a pretty pickle,As she well might be—But his gallantries were mickle,For Death followed with his sickle,And her tears began to trickleFor her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!Said she, "He loved me never,Did that great oak tree,But I'm neither rich nor clever,And so why should he?But though fate our fortunes sever,To be constant I'll endeavour,Ay, for ever and for ever,To my great oak tree!"Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!OLD PAUL AND OLD TIMWhenrival adorers come courting a maid,There's something or other may often be said,Whyheshould be pitched upon rather thanhim.This wasn't the case with OldPauland OldTim.No soul could discover a reason at allFor marryingTimothyrather thanPaul;Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath,Against marrying either—or marrying both.They were equally wealthy and equally old,They were equally timid and equally bold;They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes—Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose.Had I been youngEmily, I should have said,"You're both much too old for a pretty young maid,Threescore at the least you are verging upon";But I wasn't youngEmily. Let us get on.No coward's blood ran in youngEmily'sveins,Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns;At the rumours of battles all over the globeHe pricked up his ears like the war-horse in "Job."He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise—Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy's spies,Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee—For an eminent army-contractor was he.So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried,Implored her between them at once to decide,She told them she'd marry whichever might bringGood proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.They both went away with a qualified joy:That coward, OldPaul, chose a very small boy,And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears,He set to work boxing that little boy's ears.The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair,But the lion was roused, and OldPauldidn't care;He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kickedTill the poor little beggar was royally licked.OldTimknew a trick worth a dozen of that,So he called for his stick and he called for his hat."I'll cover myself with cheap glory—I'll goAnd wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!"The German invader is ravaging FranceWith infantry rifle and cavalry lance,And beautiful Paris is fighting her bestTo shake herself free from her terrible guest."The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,Have all run away from the summons to arms;They haven't the pluck of a pigeon—I'll goAnd wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!"OldTimothytried it and found it succeed:That day he caused many French noses to bleed;Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.He took care to abstain from employing his fistOn the old and the crippled, for they might resist;A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.OldTimand OldPaul, with the list of their foes,Prostrated themselves at theirEmily'stoes:"Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?"AndEmilyanswered andEmilysaid:"OldTimhas thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scoresWho ought to be guarding their cities and shores;OldPaulhas made little chaps' noses to bleed—OldPaulhas accomplished the pluckier deed!"KING GOODHEARTTherelived a King, as I've been toldIn the wonder-working days of old,When hearts were twice as good as gold,And twenty times as mellow.Good temper triumphed in his face,And in his heart he found a placeFor all the erring human raceAnd every wretched fellow.When he had Rhenish wine to drinkIt made him very sad to thinkThat some, at junket or at jink,Must be content with toddy:He wished all men as rich as he(And he was rich as rich could be),So to the top of every treePromoted everybody.Ambassadors cropped up like hay,Prime Ministers and such as theyGrew like asparagus in May,And Dukes were three a penny:Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,And Bishops in their shovel hatsWere plentiful as tabby cats—If possible, too many.On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,Small beer were Lords-Lieutenant deemed,With Admirals the ocean teemed,All round his wide dominions;And Party Leaders you might meetIn twos and threes in every streetMaintaining, with no little heat,Their various opinions.That King, although no one denies,His heart was of abnormal size,Yet he'd have acted otherwiseIf he had been acuter.The end is easily foretold,When every blessed thing you holdIs made of silver, or of gold,You long for simple pewter.When you have nothing else to wearBut cloth of gold and satins rare,For cloth of gold you cease to care—Up goes the price of shoddy:In short, whoever you may be,To this conclusion you'll agree,When every one is somebody,Then no one's anybody!THE MYSTIC SELVAGEEPerhapsalready you may knowSir 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)ThatRodneywas the greatest tarWho ever wielded capstan-bar.He had been taught so."Benbow?Cornwallis?Hood?—Belay!Compared withRodney"—he would say—"No other tar is worth a rap;The greatLord Rodneywas the chapThe French to polish!"Though, mind you, I respectLord Hood;Cornwallis, too, was rather good;Benbowcould enemies repel;Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well—That is, tol-lol-ish!"Sir Blennerhassetspent his daysIn learningRodney'slittle ways,And closely imitated, too,His mode of talking to his crew—His port and paces.An ancient tar he tried to catchWho'd served inRodney'sfamous batch;But since his time long years have fled,AndRodney'stars are mostly dead:Eheu fugaces!But after searching near and far,At last he found an ancient tarWho served withRodneyand his crewAgainst 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 denRigged up in what, by merchantmen,Is called the steerage."Now,Jasper"—'twas that sailor's name—"Don't fear that you'll incur my blameBy saying, when it seems to you,That there is anything I doThatRodneywouldn'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 clappedPeak-halliard blocks, all iron-capped;I would not christen that a crime,But 'twas not done inRodney'stime.It looks half-witted!Upon your maintop-stay, I see,You always clap a selvagee;Your stays, I see, are equalised—No vessel, such asRodneyprized,Would thus be fitted."AndRodney, honoured sir, would grinTo see you turning deadeyes in,Notup, 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;GreatRodneykept unto the lastBreast backstays on topgallant mast—They make it tauter."Sir Blennerhasset"swifted in,"Turned deadeyes up, and lent a finTo strip (as told byJasper Knox)The iron capping from his blocks,Where there was any.Sir Blennerhassetdoes awayWith 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 craftLay calmed, oldJaspertoddled aft."My mind misgives me, sir, that weWere wrong about that selvagee—I should restore it.""Good," said the captain, and that dayRestored it to the maintop-stay.Well-practised sailors often makeA much more serious mistake,And then ignore it.Next day oldJaspercame 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, andJaspercame:"I p'raps deserve your honour's blame,I can't make up my mind," said he,"About that cursed selvagee—It's foolish—very."On Monday night I could have swornThat maintop-stay it should adorn,On Tuesday morning I could swearThat selvagee should not be there.The knot's a rasper!""Oh, you be hanged!" saidCaptain P.,"Here, go ashore at Caribbee,Get out—good-bye—shove off—all right!"OldJaspersoon was out of sight—Farewell, oldJasper!SLEEP ON!

He.Prithee, pretty maiden—prithee, tell me true

(Hey, but I'm doleful, willow, willow waly!)

Have you e'er a lover a-dangling after you?

Hey, willow waly O!

I would fain discover

If you have a lover?

Hey, willow waly O!

She.Gentle sir, my heart is frolicsome and free—(Hey, but he's doleful, willow, willow waly!)Nobody I care for comes a-courting me—Hey, willow waly O!Nobody I care forComes a-courting—therefore,Hey, willow waly O!

She.Gentle sir, my heart is frolicsome and free—

(Hey, but he's doleful, willow, willow waly!)

Nobody I care for comes a-courting me—

Hey, willow waly O!

Nobody I care for

Comes a-courting—therefore,

Hey, willow waly O!

He.Prithee, pretty maiden, will you marry me?(Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow, willow waly!)I may say, at once, I'm a man of propertee—Hey, willow waly O!Money, I despise it,But many people prize it,Hey, willow waly O!She.Gentle sir, although to marry I design—(Hey, but he's hopeful, willow, willow waly!)As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline.Hey, willow waly O!To other maidens go you—As yet I do not know you,Hey, willow waly O!

(Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow, willow waly!)

I may say, at once, I'm a man of propertee—

Hey, willow waly O!

Money, I despise it,

But many people prize it,

Hey, willow waly O!

She.Gentle sir, although to marry I design—(Hey, but he's hopeful, willow, willow waly!)As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline.Hey, willow waly O!To other maidens go you—As yet I do not know you,Hey, willow waly O!

(Hey, but he's hopeful, willow, willow waly!)

As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline.

Hey, willow waly O!

To other maidens go you—

As yet I do not know you,

Hey, willow waly O!

Anexcellent 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 corpsSo little asMajor La Guerre—No officers swore at his warriors moreThanMajor Makredi Prepere.Their soldiers adored them, and every gradeDelighted to hear them abuse;Though whenever these officers came on parade,They shivered and shook in their shoes."No doubt we deserve it—no mercy we crave—Go on—you're conferring a boon;We would rather be slanged by a warrior braveThan praised by a wretched poltroon!"Makrediwould say that in battle's fierce rageTrue happiness only was met:PoorMajor Makredi, though fifty his age,Had never known happiness yet!La Guerrewould declare, "With the blood of a foeNo 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 they also agreed in adoring, alas!The Vivandière, prettyFillette.Agreement, we know, may be carried too far,And after agreeing all roundFor years—in this soldierly "maid of the bar,"A bone of contention they found."On the day that you marry her," mutteredPrepere(With a pistol he quietly played),"I'll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear,All over the stony parade!""I cannot dothatto you," answeredLa Guerre,"Whatever events may befall;But thisI cando—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 prettyFillette."I am not afraid," thoughtMakredi Prepere:"For my country I'm ready to fall;But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,To be eaten, moustachios and all!"Besides, thoughLa Guerrehas his faults, I'll allowHe'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," saidLa Guerre, "as you guess—I sneer at an enemy's blade;But I don't wantPrepereto get into a messFor splashing the stony parade!"One day on parade toPrepereandLa GuerreCameCorporal Jacot Debette,And, trembling all over, he prayed of them thereTo give him the prettyFillette."You see, I am willing to marry my brideUntil you've arranged this affair;I will blow out my brains when your honours decideWhich marries the sweet Vivandière!""Well, take her," said both of them in a duet(A favourite form of reply),"But when I am ready to marryFillette,Remember you've promised to die!"He married her then: from the flowery plainsOf existence the roses they cull:He lived and he died with his wife; and his brainsAre reposing in peace in his skull.

Anexcellent 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.

Anexcellent 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.

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 corpsSo little asMajor La Guerre—No officers swore at his warriors moreThanMajor Makredi Prepere.

No officer sickened with praises his corps

So little asMajor La Guerre—

No officers swore at his warriors more

ThanMajor Makredi Prepere.

Their soldiers adored them, and every gradeDelighted to hear them abuse;Though whenever these officers came on parade,They shivered and shook in their shoes.

Their soldiers adored them, and every grade

Delighted to hear them abuse;

Though whenever these officers came on parade,

They shivered and shook in their shoes.

"No doubt we deserve it—no mercy we crave—Go on—you're conferring a boon;We would rather be slanged by a warrior braveThan praised by a wretched poltroon!"

"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!"

Makrediwould say that in battle's fierce rageTrue happiness only was met:PoorMajor Makredi, though fifty his age,Had never known happiness yet!

Makrediwould say that in battle's fierce rage

True happiness only was met:

PoorMajor Makredi, though fifty his age,

Had never known happiness yet!

La Guerrewould declare, "With the blood of a foeNo tipple is worthy to clink."Poor fellow! he hadn't, though sixty or so,Yet tasted his favourite drink!

La Guerrewould 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 they also agreed in adoring, alas!The Vivandière, prettyFillette.

They agreed at their mess—they agreed in the glass—

They agreed in the choice of their "set,"

And they also agreed in adoring, alas!

The Vivandière, prettyFillette.

Agreement, we know, may be carried too far,And after agreeing all roundFor years—in this soldierly "maid of the bar,"A bone of contention they found.

Agreement, we know, 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.

"On the day that you marry her," mutteredPrepere(With a pistol he quietly played),"I'll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear,All over the stony parade!"

"On the day that you marry her," mutteredPrepere

(With a pistol he quietly played),

"I'll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear,

All over the stony parade!"

"I cannot dothatto you," answeredLa Guerre,"Whatever events may befall;But thisI cando—if you wed her,mon cher!I'll eat you, moustachios and all!

"I cannot dothatto you," answeredLa Guerre,

"Whatever events may befall;

But thisI cando—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 prettyFillette.

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 prettyFillette.

"I am not afraid," thoughtMakredi Prepere:"For my country I'm ready to fall;But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,To be eaten, moustachios and all!

"I am not afraid," thoughtMakredi Prepere:

"For my country I'm ready to fall;

But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,

To be eaten, moustachios and all!

"Besides, thoughLa Guerrehas his faults, I'll allowHe's one of the bravest of men:My goodness! if I disagree with him now,I might disagree with him then!"

"Besides, thoughLa Guerrehas 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," saidLa Guerre, "as you guess—I sneer at an enemy's blade;But I don't wantPrepereto get into a messFor splashing the stony parade!"

"No coward am I," saidLa Guerre, "as you guess—

I sneer at an enemy's blade;

But I don't wantPrepereto get into a mess

For splashing the stony parade!"

One day on parade toPrepereandLa GuerreCameCorporal Jacot Debette,And, trembling all over, he prayed of them thereTo give him the prettyFillette.

One day on parade toPrepereandLa Guerre

CameCorporal Jacot Debette,

And, trembling all over, he prayed of them there

To give him the prettyFillette.

"You see, I am willing to marry my brideUntil you've arranged this affair;I will blow out my brains when your honours decideWhich marries the sweet Vivandière!"

"You see, I am willing to marry my bride

Until you've arranged this affair;

I will blow out my brains when your honours decide

Which marries the sweet Vivandière!"

"Well, take her," said both of them in a duet(A favourite form of reply),"But when I am ready to marryFillette,Remember you've promised to die!"

"Well, take her," said both of them in a duet

(A favourite form of reply),

"But when I am ready to marryFillette,

Remember you've promised to die!"

He married her then: from the flowery plainsOf existence the roses they cull:He lived and he died with his wife; and his brainsAre reposing in peace in his skull.

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.

Whenthe buds are blossoming,Smiling welcome to the spring,Lovers choose a wedding day—Life is love in merry May!Spring is green—Fal lal la!Summer's rose—Fal lal la!It is sad when Summer goes,Fal la!Autumn's gold—Fal lal la!Winter's grey—Fal lal la!Winter still is far away—Fal la!Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;Winter is the end of all.Spring and summer teem with glee:Spring and summer, then, for me!Fal la!In the Spring-time seed is sown:In the Summer grass is mown:In the Autumn you may reap:Winter is the time for sleep.Spring is hope—Fal lal la!Summer's joy—Fal lal la!Spring and Summer never cloy,Fal la!Autumn, toil—Fal lal la!Winter, rest—Fal lal la!Winter, after all, is best—Fal la!Spring and summer pleasure you,Autumn, ay, and winter, too—Every season has its cheer;Life is lovely all the year!Fal la!

Whenthe buds are blossoming,Smiling welcome to the spring,Lovers choose a wedding day—Life is love in merry May!

Whenthe buds are blossoming,

Smiling welcome to the spring,

Lovers choose a wedding day—

Life is love in merry May!

Spring is green—Fal lal la!Summer's rose—Fal lal la!It is sad when Summer goes,Fal la!Autumn's gold—Fal lal la!Winter's grey—Fal lal la!Winter still is far away—Fal la!Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;Winter is the end of all.Spring and summer teem with glee:Spring and summer, then, for me!Fal la!

Spring is green—Fal lal la!

Summer's rose—Fal lal la!

It is sad when Summer goes,

Fal la!

Autumn's gold—Fal lal la!

Winter's grey—Fal lal la!

Winter still is far away—

Fal la!

Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;

Winter is the end of all.

Spring and summer teem with glee:

Spring and summer, then, for me!

Fal la!

In the Spring-time seed is sown:In the Summer grass is mown:In the Autumn you may reap:Winter is the time for sleep.

In the Spring-time seed is sown:

In the Summer grass is mown:

In the Autumn you may reap:

Winter is the time for sleep.

Spring is hope—Fal lal la!Summer's joy—Fal lal la!Spring and Summer never cloy,Fal la!Autumn, toil—Fal lal la!Winter, rest—Fal lal la!Winter, after all, is best—Fal la!Spring and summer pleasure you,Autumn, ay, and winter, too—Every season has its cheer;Life is lovely all the year!Fal la!

Spring is hope—Fal lal la!

Summer's joy—Fal lal la!

Spring and Summer never cloy,

Fal la!

Autumn, toil—Fal lal la!

Winter, rest—Fal lal la!

Winter, after all, is best—

Fal la!

Spring and summer pleasure you,

Autumn, ay, and winter, too—

Every season has its cheer;

Life is lovely all the year!

Fal la!

Emily Janewas a nursery maid—Jameswas a bold Life Guard,AndJohnwas a constable, poorly paid(And I am a doggerel bard).A very good girl wasEmily Jane,Jimmywas good and true,AndJohnwas a very good man in the main(And I am a good man, too).Rivals forEmmiewereJohnnyandJames,ThoughEmilyliked them both;She couldn't tell which had the strongest claims(AndIcouldn't take my oath).But sooner or later you're certain to findYour sentiments can't lie hid—Janethought it was time that she made up her mind(And I think it was time she did).SaidJane, with a smirk, and a blush on her face,"I'll promise to wed the boyWho takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!"(WhichIwould have done, with joy.)FromJohnnyescaped an expression of pain,ButJimmysaid, "Done with you!I'll take you with pleasure, myEmily Jane"(And I would have said so too).Johnlay on the ground, and he roared like mad(ForJohnnywas sore perplexed),And he kicked very hard at a very small lad(WhichIoften do, when vexed).ForJohnwas on duty next day with the Force,To punish all Epsom crimes;Some peoplewillcross, when they're clearing the course(I do it myself, sometimes).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).AndJimmywent down with hisJanethat day,AndJohnby the collar or napeSeized everybody who came in his way(AndIhad a narrow escape).He noticed hisEmily JanewithJim,And envied the well-made elf;And people remarked that he muttered "Oh, dim!"(I often say "dim!" myself.)Johndogged them all day, without asking their leaves:For his sergeant he told, aside,ThatJimmyandJanewere notorious thieves(And I think he was justified).ButJameswouldn't dream of abstracting a fork,AndJennywould blush with shameAt stealing so much as a bottle or cork(A bottle I think fair game).But, ah! there's another more serious crime!They wickedly strayed uponThe course, at a critical moment of time(I pointed them out toJohn).The crusher came down on the pair in a crack—And then, with a demon smile,LetJennycross over, but sentJimmyback(I played on my harp the while).SternJohnnytheir agony loud deridesWith a very triumphant sneer—They weep and they wail from the opposite sides(AndIshed a silent tear).AndJennyis crying away like mad,AndJimmyis swearing hard;AndJohnnyis looking uncommonly glad(And I am a doggerel bard).ButJimmyhe ventured on crossing againThe scenes of our Isthmian Games—Johncaught him, and collared him, giving him pain(I felt very much forJames).Johnled him away with a victor's hand,AndJimmywas shortly seenIn the station-house under the grand Grand Stand(As many a timeI'vebeen).AndJimmy, bad boy, was imprisoned for life,ThoughEmilypleaded hard;AndJohnnyhadEmily Janeto wife(And I am a doggerel bard).

Emily Janewas a nursery maid—Jameswas a bold Life Guard,AndJohnwas a constable, poorly paid(And I am a doggerel bard).

Emily Janewas a nursery maid—

Jameswas a bold Life Guard,

AndJohnwas a constable, poorly paid

(And I am a doggerel bard).

A very good girl wasEmily Jane,Jimmywas good and true,AndJohnwas a very good man in the main(And I am a good man, too).

A very good girl wasEmily Jane,

Jimmywas good and true,

AndJohnwas a very good man in the main

(And I am a good man, too).

Rivals forEmmiewereJohnnyandJames,ThoughEmilyliked them both;She couldn't tell which had the strongest claims(AndIcouldn't take my oath).

Rivals forEmmiewereJohnnyandJames,

ThoughEmilyliked them both;

She couldn't tell which had the strongest claims

(AndIcouldn't take my oath).

But sooner or later you're certain to findYour sentiments can't lie hid—Janethought it was time that she made up her mind(And I think it was time she did).

But sooner or later you're certain to find

Your sentiments can't lie hid—

Janethought it was time that she made up her mind

(And I think it was time she did).

SaidJane, with a smirk, and a blush on her face,"I'll promise to wed the boyWho takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!"(WhichIwould have done, with joy.)

SaidJane, with a smirk, and a blush on her face,

"I'll promise to wed the boy

Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!"

(WhichIwould have done, with joy.)

FromJohnnyescaped an expression of pain,ButJimmysaid, "Done with you!I'll take you with pleasure, myEmily Jane"(And I would have said so too).

FromJohnnyescaped an expression of pain,

ButJimmysaid, "Done with you!

I'll take you with pleasure, myEmily Jane"

(And I would have said so too).

Johnlay on the ground, and he roared like mad(ForJohnnywas sore perplexed),And he kicked very hard at a very small lad(WhichIoften do, when vexed).

Johnlay on the ground, and he roared like mad

(ForJohnnywas sore perplexed),

And he kicked very hard at a very small lad

(WhichIoften do, when vexed).

ForJohnwas on duty next day with the Force,To punish all Epsom crimes;Some peoplewillcross, when they're clearing the course(I do it myself, sometimes).

ForJohnwas on duty next day with the Force,

To punish all Epsom crimes;

Some peoplewillcross, when they're clearing the course

(I do it myself, sometimes).

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).

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).

AndJimmywent down with hisJanethat day,AndJohnby the collar or napeSeized everybody who came in his way(AndIhad a narrow escape).

AndJimmywent down with hisJanethat day,

AndJohnby the collar or nape

Seized everybody who came in his way

(AndIhad a narrow escape).

He noticed hisEmily JanewithJim,And envied the well-made elf;And people remarked that he muttered "Oh, dim!"(I often say "dim!" myself.)

He noticed hisEmily JanewithJim,

And envied the well-made elf;

And people remarked that he muttered "Oh, dim!"

(I often say "dim!" myself.)

Johndogged them all day, without asking their leaves:For his sergeant he told, aside,ThatJimmyandJanewere notorious thieves(And I think he was justified).

Johndogged them all day, without asking their leaves:

For his sergeant he told, aside,

ThatJimmyandJanewere notorious thieves

(And I think he was justified).

ButJameswouldn't dream of abstracting a fork,AndJennywould blush with shameAt stealing so much as a bottle or cork(A bottle I think fair game).

ButJameswouldn't dream of abstracting a fork,

AndJennywould blush with shame

At stealing so much as a bottle or cork

(A bottle I think fair game).

But, ah! there's another more serious crime!They wickedly strayed uponThe course, at a critical moment of time(I pointed them out toJohn).

But, ah! there's another more serious crime!

They wickedly strayed upon

The course, at a critical moment of time

(I pointed them out toJohn).

The crusher came down on the pair in a crack—And then, with a demon smile,LetJennycross over, but sentJimmyback(I played on my harp the while).

The crusher came down on the pair in a crack—

And then, with a demon smile,

LetJennycross over, but sentJimmyback

(I played on my harp the while).

SternJohnnytheir agony loud deridesWith a very triumphant sneer—They weep and they wail from the opposite sides(AndIshed a silent tear).

SternJohnnytheir agony loud derides

With a very triumphant sneer—

They weep and they wail from the opposite sides

(AndIshed a silent tear).

AndJennyis crying away like mad,AndJimmyis swearing hard;AndJohnnyis looking uncommonly glad(And I am a doggerel bard).

AndJennyis crying away like mad,

AndJimmyis swearing hard;

AndJohnnyis looking uncommonly glad

(And I am a doggerel bard).

ButJimmyhe ventured on crossing againThe scenes of our Isthmian Games—Johncaught him, and collared him, giving him pain(I felt very much forJames).

ButJimmyhe ventured on crossing again

The scenes of our Isthmian Games—

Johncaught him, and collared him, giving him pain

(I felt very much forJames).

Johnled him away with a victor's hand,AndJimmywas shortly seenIn the station-house under the grand Grand Stand(As many a timeI'vebeen).

Johnled him away with a victor's hand,

AndJimmywas shortly seen

In the station-house under the grand Grand Stand

(As many a timeI'vebeen).

AndJimmy, bad boy, was imprisoned for life,ThoughEmilypleaded hard;AndJohnnyhadEmily Janeto wife(And I am a doggerel bard).

AndJimmy, bad boy, was imprisoned for life,

ThoughEmilypleaded hard;

AndJohnnyhadEmily Janeto wife

(And I am a doggerel bard).

Now, Jurymen, hear my advice—All kinds of vulgar prejudiceI pray you set aside:With stern judicial frame of mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:Observe the features of her face—The broken-hearted bride!Condole with her distress of mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!And when amid the plaintiff's shrieks,The ruffianly defendant speaks—Upon the other side;Whathemay say you need not mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!

Now, Jurymen, hear my advice—All kinds of vulgar prejudiceI pray you set aside:With stern judicial frame of mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!

Now, Jurymen, hear my advice—

All kinds of vulgar prejudice

I pray you set aside:

With stern judicial frame of mind—

From bias free of every kind,

This trial must be tried!

Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:Observe the features of her face—The broken-hearted bride!Condole with her distress of mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!

Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:

Observe the features of her face—

The broken-hearted bride!

Condole with her distress of mind—

From bias free of every kind,

This trial must be tried!

And when amid the plaintiff's shrieks,The ruffianly defendant speaks—Upon the other side;Whathemay say you need not mind—From bias free of every kind,This trial must be tried!

And when amid the plaintiff's shrieks,

The ruffianly defendant speaks—

Upon the other side;

Whathemay say you need not mind—

From bias free of every kind,

This trial must be tried!

Old Peterled a wretched life—OldPeterhad a furious wife;OldPeter, too, was truly stout,He measured several yards about.The little fairyPicklekinOne summer afternoon looked in,And said, "OldPeter, how-de-do?Can I do anything for you?"I have three gifts—the first will giveUnbounded riches while you live;The second, health where'er you be;The third, invisibility.""O, little fairyPicklekin,"OldPeteranswered, with a grin,"To hesitate would be absurd,—Undoubtedly I choose the third.""'Tis yours," the fairy said; "be quiteInvisible to mortal sightWhene'er you please. Remember meMost kindly, pray, toMrs. P."OldMrs. PeteroverheardWeePicklekin'sconcluding word,And, jealous of her girlhood's choice,Said, "That was some young woman's voice!"OldPeterlet her scold and swear—OldPeter, 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:OldPetervanished like a shot,But then—his suit of clothes did not.For when conferred the fairy slimInvisibility 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.OldMrs. Petersoon beganTo see the failure of his plan,And then resolved (I quote the bard)To "hoist him with his own petard."OldPeterwoke next day and dressed,Put on his coat and shoes and vest,His shirt and stock—but could not findHis only pair of—never mind!OldPeterwas a decent man,And though he twigged his lady's plan,Yet, hearing her approaching, heResumed invisibility."DearMrs. 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 sworeShe'd keep his—what I said before—To make him publicly absurd;AndMrs. Peterkept 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 plainI cannot come to sight again!"For though some mirth it might affordTo see my clothes without their lord,Yet there would rise indignant oathsIf he were seen without his clothes!"But no; resolved to have her quiz,The lady held her own—and his—AndPeterleft his humble cotTo find a pair of—you know what.But—here's the worst of this affair—-Whene'er he came across a pairAlready 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!OldPeterwalks through wind and rainResolved to train, and train, and train,Until he weighs twelve stone or so—And when he does, I'll let you know.

Old Peterled a wretched life—OldPeterhad a furious wife;OldPeter, too, was truly stout,He measured several yards about.

Old Peterled a wretched life—

OldPeterhad a furious wife;

OldPeter, too, was truly stout,

He measured several yards about.

The little fairyPicklekinOne summer afternoon looked in,And said, "OldPeter, how-de-do?Can I do anything for you?

The little fairyPicklekin

One summer afternoon looked in,

And said, "OldPeter, how-de-do?

Can I do anything for you?

"I have three gifts—the first will giveUnbounded riches while you live;The second, health where'er you be;The third, invisibility."

"I have three gifts—the first will give

Unbounded riches while you live;

The second, health where'er you be;

The third, invisibility."

"O, little fairyPicklekin,"OldPeteranswered, with a grin,"To hesitate would be absurd,—Undoubtedly I choose the third."

"O, little fairyPicklekin,"

OldPeteranswered, with a grin,

"To hesitate would be absurd,—

Undoubtedly I choose the third."

"'Tis yours," the fairy said; "be quiteInvisible to mortal sightWhene'er you please. Remember meMost kindly, pray, toMrs. P."

"'Tis yours," the fairy said; "be quite

Invisible to mortal sight

Whene'er you please. Remember me

Most kindly, pray, toMrs. P."

OldMrs. PeteroverheardWeePicklekin'sconcluding word,And, jealous of her girlhood's choice,Said, "That was some young woman's voice!"

OldMrs. Peteroverheard

WeePicklekin'sconcluding word,

And, jealous of her girlhood's choice,

Said, "That was some young woman's voice!"

OldPeterlet her scold and swear—OldPeter, bless him, didn't care."My dear, your rage is wasted quite—Observe, I disappear from sight!"

OldPeterlet her scold and swear—

OldPeter, 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:OldPetervanished like a shot,But then—his suit of clothes did not.

A well-bred fairy (so I've heard)

Is always faithful to her word:

OldPetervanished like a shot,

But then—his suit of clothes did not.

For when conferred the fairy slimInvisibility on him,She popped away on fairy wings,Without referring to his "things."

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.

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.

OldMrs. Petersoon beganTo see the failure of his plan,And then resolved (I quote the bard)To "hoist him with his own petard."

OldMrs. Petersoon began

To see the failure of his plan,

And then resolved (I quote the bard)

To "hoist him with his own petard."

OldPeterwoke next day and dressed,Put on his coat and shoes and vest,His shirt and stock—but could not findHis only pair of—never mind!

OldPeterwoke next day and dressed,

Put on his coat and shoes and vest,

His shirt and stock—but could not find

His only pair of—never mind!

OldPeterwas a decent man,And though he twigged his lady's plan,Yet, hearing her approaching, heResumed invisibility.

OldPeterwas a decent man,

And though he twigged his lady's plan,

Yet, hearing her approaching, he

Resumed invisibility.

"DearMrs. P., my only joy,"Exclaimed the horrified old boy;"Now give them up, I beg of you—You know what I'm referring to!"

"DearMrs. 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 sworeShe'd keep his—what I said before—To make him publicly absurd;AndMrs. Peterkept her word.

But no; the cross old lady swore

She'd keep his—what I said before—

To make him publicly absurd;

AndMrs. Peterkept 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!

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 plainI cannot come to sight again!

"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!

"For though some mirth it might affordTo see my clothes without their lord,Yet there would rise indignant oathsIf he were seen without his clothes!"

"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 no; resolved to have her quiz,The lady held her own—and his—AndPeterleft his humble cotTo find a pair of—you know what.

But no; resolved to have her quiz,

The lady held her own—and his—

AndPeterleft his humble cot

To find a pair of—you know what.

But—here's the worst of this affair—-Whene'er he came across a pairAlready placed for him to don,He was too stout to get them on!

But—here's the worst of this 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.

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!

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!

OldPeterwalks through wind and rainResolved to train, and train, and train,Until he weighs twelve stone or so—And when he does, I'll let you know.

OldPeterwalks through wind and rain

Resolved to train, and train, and train,

Until he weighs twelve stone or so—

And when he does, I'll let you know.

Theregrew a little flower'Neath a great oak tree:When the tempest 'gan to lowerLittle heeded she:No need had she to cower,For she dreaded not its power—She was happy in the bowerOf her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!When she found that he was fickle,Was that great oak tree,She was in a pretty pickle,As she well might be—But his gallantries were mickle,For Death followed with his sickle,And her tears began to trickleFor her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!Said she, "He loved me never,Did that great oak tree,But I'm neither rich nor clever,And so why should he?But though fate our fortunes sever,To be constant I'll endeavour,Ay, for ever and for ever,To my great oak tree!"Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!

Theregrew a little flower

'Neath a great oak tree:

When the tempest 'gan to lower

Little heeded she:

No need had she to cower,

For she dreaded not its power—

She was happy in the bower

Of her great oak tree!

Sing hey,

Lackaday!

Let the tears fall free

For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!

When she found that he was fickle,Was that great oak tree,She was in a pretty pickle,As she well might be—

When she found that he was fickle,

Was that great oak tree,

She was in a pretty pickle,

As she well might be—

But his gallantries were mickle,For Death followed with his sickle,And her tears began to trickleFor her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!

But his gallantries were mickle,

For Death followed with his sickle,

And her tears began to trickle

For her great oak tree!

Sing hey,

Lackaday!

Let the tears fall free

For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!

Said she, "He loved me never,Did that great oak tree,But I'm neither rich nor clever,And so why should he?But though fate our fortunes sever,To be constant I'll endeavour,Ay, for ever and for ever,To my great oak tree!"Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!

Said she, "He loved me never,

Did that great oak tree,

But I'm neither rich nor clever,

And so why should he?

But though fate our fortunes sever,

To be constant I'll endeavour,

Ay, for ever and for ever,

To my great oak tree!"

Sing hey,

Lackaday!

Let the tears fall free

For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!

Whenrival adorers come courting a maid,There's something or other may often be said,Whyheshould be pitched upon rather thanhim.This wasn't the case with OldPauland OldTim.No soul could discover a reason at allFor marryingTimothyrather thanPaul;Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath,Against marrying either—or marrying both.They were equally wealthy and equally old,They were equally timid and equally bold;They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes—Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose.Had I been youngEmily, I should have said,"You're both much too old for a pretty young maid,Threescore at the least you are verging upon";But I wasn't youngEmily. Let us get on.No coward's blood ran in youngEmily'sveins,Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns;At the rumours of battles all over the globeHe pricked up his ears like the war-horse in "Job."He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise—Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy's spies,Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee—For an eminent army-contractor was he.So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried,Implored her between them at once to decide,She told them she'd marry whichever might bringGood proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.They both went away with a qualified joy:That coward, OldPaul, chose a very small boy,And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears,He set to work boxing that little boy's ears.The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair,But the lion was roused, and OldPauldidn't care;He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kickedTill the poor little beggar was royally licked.OldTimknew a trick worth a dozen of that,So he called for his stick and he called for his hat."I'll cover myself with cheap glory—I'll goAnd wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!"The German invader is ravaging FranceWith infantry rifle and cavalry lance,And beautiful Paris is fighting her bestTo shake herself free from her terrible guest."The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,Have all run away from the summons to arms;They haven't the pluck of a pigeon—I'll goAnd wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!"OldTimothytried it and found it succeed:That day he caused many French noses to bleed;Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.He took care to abstain from employing his fistOn the old and the crippled, for they might resist;A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.OldTimand OldPaul, with the list of their foes,Prostrated themselves at theirEmily'stoes:"Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?"AndEmilyanswered andEmilysaid:"OldTimhas thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scoresWho ought to be guarding their cities and shores;OldPaulhas made little chaps' noses to bleed—OldPaulhas accomplished the pluckier deed!"

Whenrival adorers come courting a maid,There's something or other may often be said,Whyheshould be pitched upon rather thanhim.This wasn't the case with OldPauland OldTim.

Whenrival adorers come courting a maid,

There's something or other may often be said,

Whyheshould be pitched upon rather thanhim.

This wasn't the case with OldPauland OldTim.

No soul could discover a reason at allFor marryingTimothyrather thanPaul;Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath,Against marrying either—or marrying both.

No soul could discover a reason at all

For marryingTimothyrather thanPaul;

Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath,

Against marrying either—or marrying both.

They were equally wealthy and equally old,They were equally timid and equally bold;They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes—Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose.

They were equally wealthy and equally old,

They were equally timid and equally bold;

They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes—

Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose.

Had I been youngEmily, I should have said,"You're both much too old for a pretty young maid,Threescore at the least you are verging upon";But I wasn't youngEmily. Let us get on.

Had I been youngEmily, I should have said,

"You're both much too old for a pretty young maid,

Threescore at the least you are verging upon";

But I wasn't youngEmily. Let us get on.

No coward's blood ran in youngEmily'sveins,Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns;At the rumours of battles all over the globeHe pricked up his ears like the war-horse in "Job."

No coward's blood ran in youngEmily'sveins,

Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns;

At the rumours of battles all over the globe

He pricked up his ears like the war-horse in "Job."

He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise—Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy's spies,Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee—For an eminent army-contractor was he.

He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise—

Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy's spies,

Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee—

For an eminent army-contractor was he.

So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried,Implored her between them at once to decide,She told them she'd marry whichever might bringGood proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.

So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried,

Implored her between them at once to decide,

She told them she'd marry whichever might bring

Good proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.

They both went away with a qualified joy:That coward, OldPaul, chose a very small boy,And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears,He set to work boxing that little boy's ears.

They both went away with a qualified joy:

That coward, OldPaul, chose a very small boy,

And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears,

He set to work boxing that little boy's ears.

The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair,But the lion was roused, and OldPauldidn't care;He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kickedTill the poor little beggar was royally licked.

The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair,

But the lion was roused, and OldPauldidn't care;

He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kicked

Till the poor little beggar was royally licked.

OldTimknew a trick worth a dozen of that,So he called for his stick and he called for his hat."I'll cover myself with cheap glory—I'll goAnd wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!

OldTimknew a trick worth a dozen of that,

So he called for his stick and he called for his hat.

"I'll cover myself with cheap glory—I'll go

And wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!

"The German invader is ravaging FranceWith infantry rifle and cavalry lance,And beautiful Paris is fighting her bestTo shake herself free from her terrible guest.

"The German invader is ravaging France

With infantry rifle and cavalry lance,

And beautiful Paris is fighting her best

To shake herself free from her terrible guest.

"The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,Have all run away from the summons to arms;They haven't the pluck of a pigeon—I'll goAnd wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!"

"The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,

Have all run away from the summons to arms;

They haven't the pluck of a pigeon—I'll go

And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!"

OldTimothytried it and found it succeed:That day he caused many French noses to bleed;Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.

OldTimothytried it and found it succeed:

That day he caused many French noses to bleed;

Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,

And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.

He took care to abstain from employing his fistOn the old and the crippled, for they might resist;A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.

He took care to abstain from employing his fist

On the old and the crippled, for they might resist;

A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,

But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.

OldTimand OldPaul, with the list of their foes,Prostrated themselves at theirEmily'stoes:"Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?"AndEmilyanswered andEmilysaid:

OldTimand OldPaul, with the list of their foes,

Prostrated themselves at theirEmily'stoes:

"Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?"

AndEmilyanswered andEmilysaid:

"OldTimhas thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scoresWho ought to be guarding their cities and shores;OldPaulhas made little chaps' noses to bleed—OldPaulhas accomplished the pluckier deed!"

"OldTimhas thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores

Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores;

OldPaulhas made little chaps' noses to bleed—

OldPaulhas accomplished the pluckier deed!"

Therelived a King, as I've been toldIn the wonder-working days of old,When hearts were twice as good as gold,And twenty times as mellow.Good temper triumphed in his face,And in his heart he found a placeFor all the erring human raceAnd every wretched fellow.When he had Rhenish wine to drinkIt made him very sad to thinkThat some, at junket or at jink,Must be content with toddy:He wished all men as rich as he(And he was rich as rich could be),So to the top of every treePromoted everybody.Ambassadors cropped up like hay,Prime Ministers and such as theyGrew like asparagus in May,And Dukes were three a penny:Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,And Bishops in their shovel hatsWere plentiful as tabby cats—If possible, too many.On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,Small beer were Lords-Lieutenant deemed,With Admirals the ocean teemed,All round his wide dominions;And Party Leaders you might meetIn twos and threes in every streetMaintaining, with no little heat,Their various opinions.That King, although no one denies,His heart was of abnormal size,Yet he'd have acted otherwiseIf he had been acuter.The end is easily foretold,When every blessed thing you holdIs made of silver, or of gold,You long for simple pewter.When you have nothing else to wearBut cloth of gold and satins rare,For cloth of gold you cease to care—Up goes the price of shoddy:In short, whoever you may be,To this conclusion you'll agree,When every one is somebody,Then no one's anybody!

Therelived a King, as I've been told

In the wonder-working days of old,

When hearts were twice as good as gold,

And twenty times as mellow.

Good temper triumphed in his face,

And in his heart he found a place

For all the erring human race

And every wretched fellow.

When he had Rhenish wine to drink

It made him very sad to think

That some, at junket or at jink,

Must be content with toddy:

He wished all men as rich as he

(And he was rich as rich could be),

So to the top of every tree

Promoted everybody.

Ambassadors cropped up like hay,Prime Ministers and such as theyGrew like asparagus in May,And Dukes were three a penny:Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,And Bishops in their shovel hatsWere plentiful as tabby cats—If possible, too many.On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,Small beer were Lords-Lieutenant deemed,With Admirals the ocean teemed,All round his wide dominions;And Party Leaders you might meetIn twos and threes in every streetMaintaining, with no little heat,Their various opinions.

Ambassadors cropped up like hay,

Prime Ministers and such as they

Grew like asparagus in May,

And Dukes were three a penny:

Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats,

And Bishops in their shovel hats

Were plentiful as tabby cats—

If possible, too many.

On every side Field-Marshals gleamed,

Small beer were Lords-Lieutenant deemed,

With Admirals the ocean teemed,

All round his wide dominions;

And Party Leaders you might meet

In twos and threes in every street

Maintaining, with no little heat,

Their various opinions.

That King, although no one denies,His heart was of abnormal size,Yet he'd have acted otherwiseIf he had been acuter.The end is easily foretold,When every blessed thing you holdIs made of silver, or of gold,You long for simple pewter.When you have nothing else to wearBut cloth of gold and satins rare,For cloth of gold you cease to care—Up goes the price of shoddy:In short, whoever you may be,To this conclusion you'll agree,When every one is somebody,Then no one's anybody!

That King, although no one denies,

His heart was of abnormal size,

Yet he'd have acted otherwise

If he had been acuter.

The end is easily foretold,

When every blessed thing you hold

Is made of silver, or of gold,

You long for simple pewter.

When you have nothing else to wear

But cloth of gold and satins rare,

For cloth of gold you cease to care—

Up goes the price of shoddy:

In short, whoever you may be,

To this conclusion you'll agree,

When every one is somebody,

Then no one's anybody!

Perhapsalready you may knowSir 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)ThatRodneywas the greatest tarWho ever wielded capstan-bar.He had been taught so."Benbow?Cornwallis?Hood?—Belay!Compared withRodney"—he would say—"No other tar is worth a rap;The greatLord Rodneywas the chapThe French to polish!"Though, mind you, I respectLord Hood;Cornwallis, too, was rather good;Benbowcould enemies repel;Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well—That is, tol-lol-ish!"Sir Blennerhassetspent his daysIn learningRodney'slittle ways,And closely imitated, too,His mode of talking to his crew—His port and paces.An ancient tar he tried to catchWho'd served inRodney'sfamous batch;But since his time long years have fled,AndRodney'stars are mostly dead:Eheu fugaces!But after searching near and far,At last he found an ancient tarWho served withRodneyand his crewAgainst 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 denRigged up in what, by merchantmen,Is called the steerage."Now,Jasper"—'twas that sailor's name—"Don't fear that you'll incur my blameBy saying, when it seems to you,That there is anything I doThatRodneywouldn'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 clappedPeak-halliard blocks, all iron-capped;I would not christen that a crime,But 'twas not done inRodney'stime.It looks half-witted!Upon your maintop-stay, I see,You always clap a selvagee;Your stays, I see, are equalised—No vessel, such asRodneyprized,Would thus be fitted."AndRodney, honoured sir, would grinTo see you turning deadeyes in,Notup, 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;GreatRodneykept unto the lastBreast backstays on topgallant mast—They make it tauter."Sir Blennerhasset"swifted in,"Turned deadeyes up, and lent a finTo strip (as told byJasper Knox)The iron capping from his blocks,Where there was any.Sir Blennerhassetdoes awayWith 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 craftLay calmed, oldJaspertoddled aft."My mind misgives me, sir, that weWere wrong about that selvagee—I should restore it.""Good," said the captain, and that dayRestored it to the maintop-stay.Well-practised sailors often makeA much more serious mistake,And then ignore it.Next day oldJaspercame 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, andJaspercame:"I p'raps deserve your honour's blame,I can't make up my mind," said he,"About that cursed selvagee—It's foolish—very."On Monday night I could have swornThat maintop-stay it should adorn,On Tuesday morning I could swearThat selvagee should not be there.The knot's a rasper!""Oh, you be hanged!" saidCaptain P.,"Here, go ashore at Caribbee,Get out—good-bye—shove off—all right!"OldJaspersoon was out of sight—Farewell, oldJasper!

Perhapsalready 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)

ThatRodneywas the greatest tar

Who ever wielded capstan-bar.

He had been taught so.

"Benbow?Cornwallis?Hood?—Belay!Compared withRodney"—he would say—"No other tar is worth a rap;The greatLord Rodneywas the chapThe French to polish!

"Benbow?Cornwallis?Hood?—Belay!

Compared withRodney"—he would say—

"No other tar is worth a rap;

The greatLord Rodneywas the chap

The French to polish!

"Though, mind you, I respectLord Hood;Cornwallis, too, was rather good;Benbowcould enemies repel;Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well—That is, tol-lol-ish!"

"Though, mind you, I respectLord Hood;

Cornwallis, too, was rather good;

Benbowcould enemies repel;

Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well—

That is, tol-lol-ish!"

Sir Blennerhassetspent his daysIn learningRodney'slittle ways,And closely imitated, too,His mode of talking to his crew—His port and paces.An ancient tar he tried to catchWho'd served inRodney'sfamous batch;But since his time long years have fled,AndRodney'stars are mostly dead:Eheu fugaces!

Sir Blennerhassetspent his days

In learningRodney'slittle 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 inRodney'sfamous batch;

But since his time long years have fled,

AndRodney'stars are mostly dead:

Eheu fugaces!

But after searching near and far,At last he found an ancient tarWho served withRodneyand his crewAgainst 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 denRigged up in what, by merchantmen,Is called the steerage.

But after searching near and far,

At last he found an ancient tar

Who served withRodneyand 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.

"Now,Jasper"—'twas that sailor's name—"Don't fear that you'll incur my blameBy saying, when it seems to you,That there is anything I doThatRodneywouldn't."

"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

ThatRodneywouldn'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!

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 clappedPeak-halliard blocks, all iron-capped;I would not christen that a crime,But 'twas not done inRodney'stime.It looks half-witted!Upon your maintop-stay, I see,You always clap a selvagee;Your stays, I see, are equalised—No vessel, such asRodneyprized,Would thus be fitted.

"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 inRodney'stime.

It looks half-witted!

Upon your maintop-stay, I see,

You always clap a selvagee;

Your stays, I see, are equalised—

No vessel, such asRodneyprized,

Would thus be fitted.

"AndRodney, honoured sir, would grinTo see you turning deadeyes in,Notup, 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;GreatRodneykept unto the lastBreast backstays on topgallant mast—They make it tauter."

"AndRodney, honoured sir, would grin

To see you turning deadeyes in,

Notup, 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;

GreatRodneykept unto the last

Breast backstays on topgallant mast—

They make it tauter."

Sir Blennerhasset"swifted in,"Turned deadeyes up, and lent a finTo strip (as told byJasper Knox)The iron capping from his blocks,Where there was any.

Sir Blennerhasset"swifted in,"

Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin

To strip (as told byJasper Knox)

The iron capping from his blocks,

Where there was any.

Sir Blennerhassetdoes awayWith selvagees from maintop-stay;And though it makes his sailors stare,He rigs breast backstays everywhere—In fact, too many.

Sir Blennerhassetdoes 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 craftLay calmed, oldJaspertoddled aft."My mind misgives me, sir, that weWere wrong about that selvagee—I should restore it.""Good," said the captain, and that dayRestored it to the maintop-stay.Well-practised sailors often makeA much more serious mistake,And then ignore it.

One morning, when the saucy craft

Lay calmed, oldJaspertoddled 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 oldJaspercame 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, andJaspercame:"I p'raps deserve your honour's blame,I can't make up my mind," said he,"About that cursed selvagee—It's foolish—very.

Next day oldJaspercame 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, andJaspercame:

"I p'raps deserve your honour's blame,

I can't make up my mind," said he,

"About that cursed selvagee—

It's foolish—very.

"On Monday night I could have swornThat maintop-stay it should adorn,On Tuesday morning I could swearThat selvagee should not be there.The knot's a rasper!""Oh, you be hanged!" saidCaptain P.,"Here, go ashore at Caribbee,Get out—good-bye—shove off—all right!"OldJaspersoon was out of sight—Farewell, oldJasper!

"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!" saidCaptain P.,

"Here, go ashore at Caribbee,

Get out—good-bye—shove off—all right!"

OldJaspersoon was out of sight—

Farewell, oldJasper!

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