THE DEVIL IN RICHMOND PARK

The devil in Richmond Park

IWAS walking about, in a casual way,Thro' the ferns, in Richmond Park,'Twas just at the fringe of the twilight hour,On the skirt, of the time called dark,And the wind was rough, and I couldn't succeed,To kindle my three-penny smoke,When a gentleman stepped from behind a tree,And coughed, and hemmed, and spoke:"You'll pardon me, Sir, you're in want of a light,"Said he, with a bow to me,And straight producing a braided star,He struck it against his knee,And with an expression of much concern,To see that my weed was right,He manipulated the light himself,With a courtesy most polite.I am one, who is quickly impressed, and won,By measure of courteous act,So deeming it right, to appreciate,In response of appropriate tact,I spake to him thus, "It's rare that a manIn a gentleman's dress like thine,Doth care to assist, the frivolous wants,Of a miniature vice like mine,So reckon it not, as a rudeness wrought,Of an ignorant wish to know,But I'd certainly like to learn the name,Of the gent, who has touched me so!Then he glittered a grin, from his cat-like eye,Thro' a coal black lash on me,And he bowed, with his lifted silk top hat,"I'm the Devil himself!" quoth he.Good gracious! yes, I was certainly struck,So suddenly thus to beWith the Devil himself! but soon, or late,He was bound to appear to me.So screwing my nerves, to concert pitch,To play up my soul, for wealth,With a supplemental proviso made,For excellent mortal health,I offered to scribble my autograph,In blood, old-storied style,To deed, for a compensating line,From his notable strong room pile.But he looked on me, with a pitying glance,I counted somewhat queer,And answered me thus,—in a friendly way,With a slight sarcastic leer.IT'S a long time, Sir, I assure you, sinceI endeavoured, to so combine,My games of spoof, for the human soul,In the bartering oofftish line.I suffered by many a measly cheat,When mortals made those sales,You'll read of their shuffling knavish tricks,Thro' the mediæval tales,If you think, that by selling your soul to me,Is the way to get rich, it ain't,You'll have to become, a Devil yourself,In the garb, of a modern Saint."It's the fashionable way, to play the game,Of hypocritical spoof,You have only to tailor your saintly robe,To cover your tell tale hoof,You have only to hypnotise mankind,And teach them, to gaze on high,And while you have mesmerised them thus,With eyes, to the upward sky,"You can plot, exploit, and sneak, and trick,And cram your wallet, with wares,And earthly stocks, as you boom the run,On the New Jerusalem shares,You can rob the widow, and orphan child;But reputably go to church,And if, by the clogging of circumstance,Your pinched, in the doomdock lurch,The greater the pile of swag, you've made,The fewer the blanks, you'll draw,From the lottery wheel, of the English bench,In the name, of the English law.It's merely a mode, of paying yourself,In advance, a liberal wage,For the government work, you'll have to do,In the broad-arrow-branded stage.Say thirty thousands of pounds, you filch,Five years, is the time you'll do,Six thousand a year, in advance, you see,To enjoy, when you've pulled it thro'.Or, seizing your pile, by a dextrous coup,Before they have time, to look down,From the castles, in the air,You have built for them there,You can take a foreign ticket from town."And tho' you are lagged, at the ends of the earth,You'll still find a breach, or a flaw,Whereby you can slip, thro' the quips, that confuse,Extradition—international law."Now that is how I teach, the quickest way to cure,Your impecuniosity complaint,You must collar the swag, as a Devil yourself,In the garb, of a modern saint.There's another way to pinch, whereby you may keep,Your character, apparently sound,Go pray, and exhort, teach the vanity of wealth,And pay, half-a-crown in the pound!"Now bear it in mind, if you're wanting to make,Let this, be your measureless plaint,The misery of wealth, get a halo, and preach,In the garb, of a modern Saint."Again he lifted his silk top hat,And bowing an adieu to me,He vanished away, with a lordly crawl,In the trunk, of the nearest tree,And thus, were my mediæval hopesOf wealth, by a caustic blow,Dispersed, and a lesson of evil taught,By the Devil, who touched me so.

IWAS walking about, in a casual way,

Thro' the ferns, in Richmond Park,

'Twas just at the fringe of the twilight hour,

On the skirt, of the time called dark,

And the wind was rough, and I couldn't succeed,

To kindle my three-penny smoke,

When a gentleman stepped from behind a tree,

And coughed, and hemmed, and spoke:

"You'll pardon me, Sir, you're in want of a light,"Said he, with a bow to me,And straight producing a braided star,He struck it against his knee,And with an expression of much concern,To see that my weed was right,He manipulated the light himself,With a courtesy most polite.

"You'll pardon me, Sir, you're in want of a light,"

Said he, with a bow to me,

And straight producing a braided star,

He struck it against his knee,

And with an expression of much concern,

To see that my weed was right,

He manipulated the light himself,

With a courtesy most polite.

I am one, who is quickly impressed, and won,By measure of courteous act,So deeming it right, to appreciate,In response of appropriate tact,I spake to him thus, "It's rare that a manIn a gentleman's dress like thine,Doth care to assist, the frivolous wants,Of a miniature vice like mine,So reckon it not, as a rudeness wrought,Of an ignorant wish to know,But I'd certainly like to learn the name,Of the gent, who has touched me so!

I am one, who is quickly impressed, and won,

By measure of courteous act,

So deeming it right, to appreciate,

In response of appropriate tact,

I spake to him thus, "It's rare that a man

In a gentleman's dress like thine,

Doth care to assist, the frivolous wants,

Of a miniature vice like mine,

So reckon it not, as a rudeness wrought,

Of an ignorant wish to know,

But I'd certainly like to learn the name,

Of the gent, who has touched me so!

Then he glittered a grin, from his cat-like eye,Thro' a coal black lash on me,And he bowed, with his lifted silk top hat,"I'm the Devil himself!" quoth he.

Then he glittered a grin, from his cat-like eye,

Thro' a coal black lash on me,

And he bowed, with his lifted silk top hat,

"I'm the Devil himself!" quoth he.

Good gracious! yes, I was certainly struck,So suddenly thus to beWith the Devil himself! but soon, or late,He was bound to appear to me.

Good gracious! yes, I was certainly struck,

So suddenly thus to be

With the Devil himself! but soon, or late,

He was bound to appear to me.

So screwing my nerves, to concert pitch,To play up my soul, for wealth,With a supplemental proviso made,For excellent mortal health,I offered to scribble my autograph,In blood, old-storied style,To deed, for a compensating line,From his notable strong room pile.

So screwing my nerves, to concert pitch,

To play up my soul, for wealth,

With a supplemental proviso made,

For excellent mortal health,

I offered to scribble my autograph,

In blood, old-storied style,

To deed, for a compensating line,

From his notable strong room pile.

But he looked on me, with a pitying glance,I counted somewhat queer,And answered me thus,—in a friendly way,With a slight sarcastic leer.

But he looked on me, with a pitying glance,

I counted somewhat queer,

And answered me thus,—in a friendly way,

With a slight sarcastic leer.

T'S a long time, Sir, I assure you, sinceI endeavoured, to so combine,My games of spoof, for the human soul,In the bartering oofftish line.I suffered by many a measly cheat,When mortals made those sales,You'll read of their shuffling knavish tricks,Thro' the mediæval tales,If you think, that by selling your soul to me,Is the way to get rich, it ain't,You'll have to become, a Devil yourself,In the garb, of a modern Saint."It's the fashionable way, to play the game,Of hypocritical spoof,You have only to tailor your saintly robe,To cover your tell tale hoof,You have only to hypnotise mankind,And teach them, to gaze on high,And while you have mesmerised them thus,With eyes, to the upward sky,

T'S a long time, Sir, I assure you, since

I endeavoured, to so combine,

My games of spoof, for the human soul,

In the bartering oofftish line.

I suffered by many a measly cheat,

When mortals made those sales,

You'll read of their shuffling knavish tricks,

Thro' the mediæval tales,

If you think, that by selling your soul to me,

Is the way to get rich, it ain't,

You'll have to become, a Devil yourself,

In the garb, of a modern Saint.

"It's the fashionable way, to play the game,

Of hypocritical spoof,

You have only to tailor your saintly robe,

To cover your tell tale hoof,

You have only to hypnotise mankind,

And teach them, to gaze on high,

And while you have mesmerised them thus,

With eyes, to the upward sky,

"You can plot, exploit, and sneak, and trick,And cram your wallet, with wares,And earthly stocks, as you boom the run,On the New Jerusalem shares,You can rob the widow, and orphan child;But reputably go to church,And if, by the clogging of circumstance,Your pinched, in the doomdock lurch,The greater the pile of swag, you've made,The fewer the blanks, you'll draw,From the lottery wheel, of the English bench,In the name, of the English law.It's merely a mode, of paying yourself,In advance, a liberal wage,For the government work, you'll have to do,In the broad-arrow-branded stage.Say thirty thousands of pounds, you filch,Five years, is the time you'll do,Six thousand a year, in advance, you see,To enjoy, when you've pulled it thro'.Or, seizing your pile, by a dextrous coup,Before they have time, to look down,From the castles, in the air,You have built for them there,You can take a foreign ticket from town."And tho' you are lagged, at the ends of the earth,You'll still find a breach, or a flaw,Whereby you can slip, thro' the quips, that confuse,Extradition—international law.

"You can plot, exploit, and sneak, and trick,

And cram your wallet, with wares,

And earthly stocks, as you boom the run,

On the New Jerusalem shares,

You can rob the widow, and orphan child;

But reputably go to church,

And if, by the clogging of circumstance,

Your pinched, in the doomdock lurch,

The greater the pile of swag, you've made,

The fewer the blanks, you'll draw,

From the lottery wheel, of the English bench,

In the name, of the English law.

It's merely a mode, of paying yourself,

In advance, a liberal wage,

For the government work, you'll have to do,

In the broad-arrow-branded stage.

Say thirty thousands of pounds, you filch,

Five years, is the time you'll do,

Six thousand a year, in advance, you see,

To enjoy, when you've pulled it thro'.

Or, seizing your pile, by a dextrous coup,

Before they have time, to look down,

From the castles, in the air,

You have built for them there,

You can take a foreign ticket from town.

"And tho' you are lagged, at the ends of the earth,

You'll still find a breach, or a flaw,

Whereby you can slip, thro' the quips, that confuse,

Extradition—international law.

"Now that is how I teach, the quickest way to cure,Your impecuniosity complaint,You must collar the swag, as a Devil yourself,In the garb, of a modern saint.There's another way to pinch, whereby you may keep,Your character, apparently sound,Go pray, and exhort, teach the vanity of wealth,And pay, half-a-crown in the pound!

"Now that is how I teach, the quickest way to cure,

Your impecuniosity complaint,

You must collar the swag, as a Devil yourself,

In the garb, of a modern saint.

There's another way to pinch, whereby you may keep,

Your character, apparently sound,

Go pray, and exhort, teach the vanity of wealth,

And pay, half-a-crown in the pound!

"Now bear it in mind, if you're wanting to make,Let this, be your measureless plaint,The misery of wealth, get a halo, and preach,In the garb, of a modern Saint."

"Now bear it in mind, if you're wanting to make,

Let this, be your measureless plaint,

The misery of wealth, get a halo, and preach,

In the garb, of a modern Saint."

Again he lifted his silk top hat,And bowing an adieu to me,He vanished away, with a lordly crawl,In the trunk, of the nearest tree,And thus, were my mediæval hopesOf wealth, by a caustic blow,Dispersed, and a lesson of evil taught,By the Devil, who touched me so.

Again he lifted his silk top hat,

And bowing an adieu to me,

He vanished away, with a lordly crawl,

In the trunk, of the nearest tree,

And thus, were my mediæval hopes

Of wealth, by a caustic blow,

Dispersed, and a lesson of evil taught,

By the Devil, who touched me so.

saved

IPICTURED out my passion,In florid fretwork fashion,Expostulating!Waiting!Stating,Mating we must be,And subtle thought, relating,To scheme, of emigrating,With bride, to land of Bashan,Was exercising me;When, peering like a picket,Or a cricket,From a thicket,Thro' the wicket,Came another, on the scene,And we were three!'Twas the spinster, in a hurriedFit of minorhood, I married,She succoured meFrom bigamy,Said she,"Come home to tea!"I went, and drank it boiling,—A mug of strong Bohea!—I drank it, without sugar,A tannic dose, for me!

A most remarkable caseA most remarkable case'TWAS an incident Matrimonial, the Probate Court the place,And 'twas for the co-respondent, a most remarkable case,For good was the leading counsel, and moral the words spake he,And fashionable ladies listened, to Writ MacFee, Q.C.He rose to his feet and setting his most magniloquent frown,He fingered his brief for a moment, a moment, and laid it down,Then out of his golden snuffbox, he powdered his pampered nose,And then with a pull back rustle of silk, to its wonted pose,He heliographed to the jury, a glitter of eyeful glee,And as he surveyed the respondent, most rep-re-hen-siv-lee,He mounted his golden pinc-nez, and on this wise spake he."Me Lud, and O gents of the Jury, it's a most remarkable case!And I don't hesitate for a moment, my cause in your hands to place,For O," said the counsellor, purring, with subtle seductive leer,"I never beheld such a jury, in the length of my long career!I assure you it makes it easy for an advocate like to me,To open the most remarkable casever.Tommins, L.R.C.P."Then marking his condemnation, with voice like a double bass D."The co-respond' is a doctor, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.,A leech of the muddiest water, a pill, that has given the sick,An emetic of truth, a plaister of pitch, with a warrant to stick,It's O when consumptive virtue, is treated by such, you seeThe ruin, like that enacted by Tommins, L.R.C.P.He was called to attend the Lady May Monica Pendigrew,From a fit of the blues he roused her, and prettily pulled her through,But managed her like a pilot, who getting a treacherous grip,Sails out into deeper water, to scuttle and sink the ship!O gents, by æsthetical fraud, he played on the lady's mind,With Shakespeare collar and fur, a sunflower, and such kind,He called her too utterly too, and posed in a limpish style,And droned in a minorly key, of love, like a fretwork file.Me Lud, and O gentlemen, gents, the co-respond' may smile,Your sympathy thus to win, by means of trover of guile,But no! you will give him a check, whereby you will take your place,As the most remarkable twelve, of the most remarkable case!"Jury Box'Twas thus, with vigour, and vim, and verve, and casuist glee,The raftered roof re-echoed, the shouts of Writ MacFee,While envious briefless Bees, admired his logic, and gist,Accentuate note, and pause, well marked by his thumping fist,He stood on the councillor's seat, with one of his feet—the left,And the stuffy compression of air, with whirling silk he cleft,And this, was his winding up, "O Father, Brother, and Son,Oh this is a case, concerning each individual one,And confident of your verdict, now into your hands I place,O gentlemen, gents of the Jury, this most remarkable case!"With quiver of deep emotion, one hypnothetical glance,He photophoned to the jury, at Tommins he looked askance,Then daintily mopped his forehead, some virtuous beads of heat,He sopped in his red bandana, and then he resumed his seat.Then "Oh!" said the ladies in court,"Wasn't that lawyer a treat?"Concussion of parasols, sticks, hands, and stamping feet,Till the usher expostulated, aloud in a startling shout,"Silence!!!"And his Ludship sternly threatened, to bundle the audience out,Poor Tommins had then to listen to evidence from the box,And now, and again, it dealt him, a stagger of nasty knocks;Acquaintances there subpœnad, identification swore,And others, who sneaked the keyhole, of sitting apartment door.What mattered the osculation, with which he smacked the book,A fig for his indignation, a jot for his injured look,The jury, and judge, decided the damage, and costs, to beThree thousand pounds, to the client of Writ MacFee, Q.C.EXTRA SPECIAL MOST REMAKABLE CASE VERDICTTHE tweezers of time, had sparsed his hair, when Tommins, L.R.C.P.Was mooning around, to a neighbouring square, to join in an evening tea,When a tremulous maiden, checked his steps, and cried him, "O Mister Man,Me mother's afeered, that the two pair back, is goin' to kick the can!O Mister Medical Sir, he's sick, an' owin' a quarter's rent,An' that's the most, of the cause for why, of the hurry, that I was sent,O Mister Medical Man, Sir please, O please Sir folly me quick,You might be able to worry him thro' from the fit of the stiffnin' sick!Oh! come Sir, please Sir, do Sir come,O hurry an' come with me quick!"From sympathetic professional heart, for indigent sick alway,He gave a positive kind response, to the girl, who thus did pray,And on thro' court, and alley, and lane, he followed her devious track,Then mounting a rickety deal wood stair, he entered a two pair back,And there, in the glim of a halfpenny dipt, he gazed on a ghastly man,And he counted his pulse, said the girl "Do you think he's likely to kick the can?"The sick man rose to an elbow prop, at Tommins, to blink and stare!He seemed an anatomy, made for show, of eyes, and nose, and hair,He peered awhile thro' the starving glim, and then, with a moan cried he,"O God, have you come to haunt me here, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.?O is it with pills, or senna and salts, your 'shake up the bottle' and messOf slops, to avenge for the deed I've done? have mercy and I'll confess!O pester me not to swallow your stuff, I will not allow you to bleed!O spare me Tommins, I'm guilty, guilt, is what I'm about to plead!"The doctor shrank with a searching gaze, that clung to the startled ghost,In doubt awhile, for the rounded lines of his manhood's prime were lost,Till memory striking the evil past, the doctor's eye did trace,With a shock to his heart, the Writ MacFee of the most remarkable case!His memory jarred on the Probate Court, with all its sorrowful shame,Disastrous check, to his early hopes, of honor, and medical fame,And with a potion of pity, and hate, he knew the furrowy faceOf the grim, of the Writ MacFee, Q.C., of the most remarkable case.The bloom of his pampered nose was gone, 'twas shrivelled, and pinched, and shrunk!His adipose peach of cheek, was fled, 'twas lean, and withered, and sunk,A derelict there; by the prosperous port of wealth, and power, and place,He lay the identical Writ MacFee, of the most remarkable case!"O spare me doctor! for I'll confess,—I should have been in your place.As the treacherous co-respondent, of the most remarkable case,T'was I, was the homestead wrecker, but never as Writ MacFee,I played me, a knave's deception, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.!I bought from a needy super, the beard, moustaches, and wig,I managed to coach my tailor, to model me in your rig,And thus I received a welcome, to lunch, and dinner, and tea,As Tommins the medical doctor, but never as Writ MacFee.O Doctor Tommins have mercy! I beg to legacy thee,With thirty tickets of pawn to name, of Writ MacFee, Q.C.In a brief bag under the bed, tied up in a worn-out wig,You will find a memento there, of mock æsthetical rig,The spats and the collar and vest, I wore when I went to see,The Lady Monica Pendigrew, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.O Doctor Tommins forgive! the cost and the foul disgrace,Of debt, for the illsome guilt, of the most remarkable case,O Doctor Tommins have grace!" he rose with a greedy stare,And gripped with his reedy fists, the mat of his weedy hair!Then moaning a hungry sigh, for life, with a choking breath,He fell with accusing cry, "O Tommins you've brought me death!But I won't have a pauper's coffin! so give me a decent show—Whew!—eh—what's this? O thunder thun—un—der and lightning———Oh!Ah!—mercy me Lud! O mercy! thun—un—der an' light—ning———Oh!!It's a sine die, the morrow for me, Ah! mercy me Lud, Oh!———Oh!"The girl ran out of the two pair back, and down the stairs she ran,With shouts, as she took three steps at a time, "The lodger has kicked the can!Mother, O mother, we've lost the rent, the lodger has kicked the can!It's just what you said of the two pair back, he's gone an he's kicked the can!"

A most remarkable caseA most remarkable case

'TWAS an incident Matrimonial, the Probate Court the place,And 'twas for the co-respondent, a most remarkable case,For good was the leading counsel, and moral the words spake he,And fashionable ladies listened, to Writ MacFee, Q.C.He rose to his feet and setting his most magniloquent frown,He fingered his brief for a moment, a moment, and laid it down,Then out of his golden snuffbox, he powdered his pampered nose,And then with a pull back rustle of silk, to its wonted pose,He heliographed to the jury, a glitter of eyeful glee,And as he surveyed the respondent, most rep-re-hen-siv-lee,He mounted his golden pinc-nez, and on this wise spake he."Me Lud, and O gents of the Jury, it's a most remarkable case!And I don't hesitate for a moment, my cause in your hands to place,For O," said the counsellor, purring, with subtle seductive leer,"I never beheld such a jury, in the length of my long career!I assure you it makes it easy for an advocate like to me,To open the most remarkable casever.Tommins, L.R.C.P."Then marking his condemnation, with voice like a double bass D."The co-respond' is a doctor, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.,A leech of the muddiest water, a pill, that has given the sick,An emetic of truth, a plaister of pitch, with a warrant to stick,It's O when consumptive virtue, is treated by such, you seeThe ruin, like that enacted by Tommins, L.R.C.P.He was called to attend the Lady May Monica Pendigrew,From a fit of the blues he roused her, and prettily pulled her through,But managed her like a pilot, who getting a treacherous grip,Sails out into deeper water, to scuttle and sink the ship!O gents, by æsthetical fraud, he played on the lady's mind,With Shakespeare collar and fur, a sunflower, and such kind,He called her too utterly too, and posed in a limpish style,And droned in a minorly key, of love, like a fretwork file.Me Lud, and O gentlemen, gents, the co-respond' may smile,Your sympathy thus to win, by means of trover of guile,But no! you will give him a check, whereby you will take your place,As the most remarkable twelve, of the most remarkable case!"Jury Box'Twas thus, with vigour, and vim, and verve, and casuist glee,The raftered roof re-echoed, the shouts of Writ MacFee,While envious briefless Bees, admired his logic, and gist,Accentuate note, and pause, well marked by his thumping fist,He stood on the councillor's seat, with one of his feet—the left,And the stuffy compression of air, with whirling silk he cleft,And this, was his winding up, "O Father, Brother, and Son,Oh this is a case, concerning each individual one,And confident of your verdict, now into your hands I place,O gentlemen, gents of the Jury, this most remarkable case!"With quiver of deep emotion, one hypnothetical glance,He photophoned to the jury, at Tommins he looked askance,Then daintily mopped his forehead, some virtuous beads of heat,He sopped in his red bandana, and then he resumed his seat.Then "Oh!" said the ladies in court,"Wasn't that lawyer a treat?"Concussion of parasols, sticks, hands, and stamping feet,Till the usher expostulated, aloud in a startling shout,"Silence!!!"And his Ludship sternly threatened, to bundle the audience out,Poor Tommins had then to listen to evidence from the box,And now, and again, it dealt him, a stagger of nasty knocks;Acquaintances there subpœnad, identification swore,And others, who sneaked the keyhole, of sitting apartment door.What mattered the osculation, with which he smacked the book,A fig for his indignation, a jot for his injured look,The jury, and judge, decided the damage, and costs, to beThree thousand pounds, to the client of Writ MacFee, Q.C.EXTRA SPECIAL MOST REMAKABLE CASE VERDICTTHE tweezers of time, had sparsed his hair, when Tommins, L.R.C.P.Was mooning around, to a neighbouring square, to join in an evening tea,When a tremulous maiden, checked his steps, and cried him, "O Mister Man,Me mother's afeered, that the two pair back, is goin' to kick the can!O Mister Medical Sir, he's sick, an' owin' a quarter's rent,An' that's the most, of the cause for why, of the hurry, that I was sent,O Mister Medical Man, Sir please, O please Sir folly me quick,You might be able to worry him thro' from the fit of the stiffnin' sick!Oh! come Sir, please Sir, do Sir come,O hurry an' come with me quick!"From sympathetic professional heart, for indigent sick alway,He gave a positive kind response, to the girl, who thus did pray,And on thro' court, and alley, and lane, he followed her devious track,Then mounting a rickety deal wood stair, he entered a two pair back,And there, in the glim of a halfpenny dipt, he gazed on a ghastly man,And he counted his pulse, said the girl "Do you think he's likely to kick the can?"The sick man rose to an elbow prop, at Tommins, to blink and stare!He seemed an anatomy, made for show, of eyes, and nose, and hair,He peered awhile thro' the starving glim, and then, with a moan cried he,"O God, have you come to haunt me here, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.?O is it with pills, or senna and salts, your 'shake up the bottle' and messOf slops, to avenge for the deed I've done? have mercy and I'll confess!O pester me not to swallow your stuff, I will not allow you to bleed!O spare me Tommins, I'm guilty, guilt, is what I'm about to plead!"The doctor shrank with a searching gaze, that clung to the startled ghost,In doubt awhile, for the rounded lines of his manhood's prime were lost,Till memory striking the evil past, the doctor's eye did trace,With a shock to his heart, the Writ MacFee of the most remarkable case!His memory jarred on the Probate Court, with all its sorrowful shame,Disastrous check, to his early hopes, of honor, and medical fame,And with a potion of pity, and hate, he knew the furrowy faceOf the grim, of the Writ MacFee, Q.C., of the most remarkable case.The bloom of his pampered nose was gone, 'twas shrivelled, and pinched, and shrunk!His adipose peach of cheek, was fled, 'twas lean, and withered, and sunk,A derelict there; by the prosperous port of wealth, and power, and place,He lay the identical Writ MacFee, of the most remarkable case!"O spare me doctor! for I'll confess,—I should have been in your place.As the treacherous co-respondent, of the most remarkable case,T'was I, was the homestead wrecker, but never as Writ MacFee,I played me, a knave's deception, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.!I bought from a needy super, the beard, moustaches, and wig,I managed to coach my tailor, to model me in your rig,And thus I received a welcome, to lunch, and dinner, and tea,As Tommins the medical doctor, but never as Writ MacFee.O Doctor Tommins have mercy! I beg to legacy thee,With thirty tickets of pawn to name, of Writ MacFee, Q.C.In a brief bag under the bed, tied up in a worn-out wig,You will find a memento there, of mock æsthetical rig,The spats and the collar and vest, I wore when I went to see,The Lady Monica Pendigrew, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.O Doctor Tommins forgive! the cost and the foul disgrace,Of debt, for the illsome guilt, of the most remarkable case,O Doctor Tommins have grace!" he rose with a greedy stare,And gripped with his reedy fists, the mat of his weedy hair!Then moaning a hungry sigh, for life, with a choking breath,He fell with accusing cry, "O Tommins you've brought me death!But I won't have a pauper's coffin! so give me a decent show—Whew!—eh—what's this? O thunder thun—un—der and lightning———Oh!Ah!—mercy me Lud! O mercy! thun—un—der an' light—ning———Oh!!It's a sine die, the morrow for me, Ah! mercy me Lud, Oh!———Oh!"The girl ran out of the two pair back, and down the stairs she ran,With shouts, as she took three steps at a time, "The lodger has kicked the can!Mother, O mother, we've lost the rent, the lodger has kicked the can!It's just what you said of the two pair back, he's gone an he's kicked the can!"

'TWAS an incident Matrimonial, the Probate Court the place,

And 'twas for the co-respondent, a most remarkable case,

For good was the leading counsel, and moral the words spake he,

And fashionable ladies listened, to Writ MacFee, Q.C.

He rose to his feet and setting his most magniloquent frown,He fingered his brief for a moment, a moment, and laid it down,Then out of his golden snuffbox, he powdered his pampered nose,And then with a pull back rustle of silk, to its wonted pose,He heliographed to the jury, a glitter of eyeful glee,And as he surveyed the respondent, most rep-re-hen-siv-lee,He mounted his golden pinc-nez, and on this wise spake he."Me Lud, and O gents of the Jury, it's a most remarkable case!And I don't hesitate for a moment, my cause in your hands to place,For O," said the counsellor, purring, with subtle seductive leer,"I never beheld such a jury, in the length of my long career!I assure you it makes it easy for an advocate like to me,To open the most remarkable casever.Tommins, L.R.C.P."

He rose to his feet and setting his most magniloquent frown,

He fingered his brief for a moment, a moment, and laid it down,

Then out of his golden snuffbox, he powdered his pampered nose,

And then with a pull back rustle of silk, to its wonted pose,

He heliographed to the jury, a glitter of eyeful glee,

And as he surveyed the respondent, most rep-re-hen-siv-lee,

He mounted his golden pinc-nez, and on this wise spake he.

"Me Lud, and O gents of the Jury, it's a most remarkable case!

And I don't hesitate for a moment, my cause in your hands to place,

For O," said the counsellor, purring, with subtle seductive leer,

"I never beheld such a jury, in the length of my long career!

I assure you it makes it easy for an advocate like to me,

To open the most remarkable casever.Tommins, L.R.C.P."

Then marking his condemnation, with voice like a double bass D."The co-respond' is a doctor, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.,A leech of the muddiest water, a pill, that has given the sick,An emetic of truth, a plaister of pitch, with a warrant to stick,It's O when consumptive virtue, is treated by such, you seeThe ruin, like that enacted by Tommins, L.R.C.P.

Then marking his condemnation, with voice like a double bass D.

"The co-respond' is a doctor, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.,

A leech of the muddiest water, a pill, that has given the sick,

An emetic of truth, a plaister of pitch, with a warrant to stick,

It's O when consumptive virtue, is treated by such, you see

The ruin, like that enacted by Tommins, L.R.C.P.

He was called to attend the Lady May Monica Pendigrew,From a fit of the blues he roused her, and prettily pulled her through,But managed her like a pilot, who getting a treacherous grip,Sails out into deeper water, to scuttle and sink the ship!O gents, by æsthetical fraud, he played on the lady's mind,With Shakespeare collar and fur, a sunflower, and such kind,He called her too utterly too, and posed in a limpish style,And droned in a minorly key, of love, like a fretwork file.Me Lud, and O gentlemen, gents, the co-respond' may smile,Your sympathy thus to win, by means of trover of guile,But no! you will give him a check, whereby you will take your place,As the most remarkable twelve, of the most remarkable case!"

He was called to attend the Lady May Monica Pendigrew,

From a fit of the blues he roused her, and prettily pulled her through,

But managed her like a pilot, who getting a treacherous grip,

Sails out into deeper water, to scuttle and sink the ship!

O gents, by æsthetical fraud, he played on the lady's mind,

With Shakespeare collar and fur, a sunflower, and such kind,

He called her too utterly too, and posed in a limpish style,

And droned in a minorly key, of love, like a fretwork file.

Me Lud, and O gentlemen, gents, the co-respond' may smile,

Your sympathy thus to win, by means of trover of guile,

But no! you will give him a check, whereby you will take your place,

As the most remarkable twelve, of the most remarkable case!"

Jury Box

'Twas thus, with vigour, and vim, and verve, and casuist glee,The raftered roof re-echoed, the shouts of Writ MacFee,While envious briefless Bees, admired his logic, and gist,Accentuate note, and pause, well marked by his thumping fist,He stood on the councillor's seat, with one of his feet—the left,And the stuffy compression of air, with whirling silk he cleft,And this, was his winding up, "O Father, Brother, and Son,Oh this is a case, concerning each individual one,And confident of your verdict, now into your hands I place,O gentlemen, gents of the Jury, this most remarkable case!"

'Twas thus, with vigour, and vim, and verve, and casuist glee,

The raftered roof re-echoed, the shouts of Writ MacFee,

While envious briefless Bees, admired his logic, and gist,

Accentuate note, and pause, well marked by his thumping fist,

He stood on the councillor's seat, with one of his feet—the left,

And the stuffy compression of air, with whirling silk he cleft,

And this, was his winding up, "O Father, Brother, and Son,

Oh this is a case, concerning each individual one,

And confident of your verdict, now into your hands I place,

O gentlemen, gents of the Jury, this most remarkable case!"

With quiver of deep emotion, one hypnothetical glance,He photophoned to the jury, at Tommins he looked askance,Then daintily mopped his forehead, some virtuous beads of heat,He sopped in his red bandana, and then he resumed his seat.

With quiver of deep emotion, one hypnothetical glance,

He photophoned to the jury, at Tommins he looked askance,

Then daintily mopped his forehead, some virtuous beads of heat,

He sopped in his red bandana, and then he resumed his seat.

Then "Oh!" said the ladies in court,"Wasn't that lawyer a treat?"Concussion of parasols, sticks, hands, and stamping feet,Till the usher expostulated, aloud in a startling shout,"Silence!!!"And his Ludship sternly threatened, to bundle the audience out,

Then "Oh!" said the ladies in court,

"Wasn't that lawyer a treat?"

Concussion of parasols, sticks, hands, and stamping feet,

Till the usher expostulated, aloud in a startling shout,

"Silence!!!"

And his Ludship sternly threatened, to bundle the audience out,

Poor Tommins had then to listen to evidence from the box,And now, and again, it dealt him, a stagger of nasty knocks;Acquaintances there subpœnad, identification swore,And others, who sneaked the keyhole, of sitting apartment door.What mattered the osculation, with which he smacked the book,A fig for his indignation, a jot for his injured look,The jury, and judge, decided the damage, and costs, to beThree thousand pounds, to the client of Writ MacFee, Q.C.

Poor Tommins had then to listen to evidence from the box,

And now, and again, it dealt him, a stagger of nasty knocks;

Acquaintances there subpœnad, identification swore,

And others, who sneaked the keyhole, of sitting apartment door.

What mattered the osculation, with which he smacked the book,

A fig for his indignation, a jot for his injured look,

The jury, and judge, decided the damage, and costs, to be

Three thousand pounds, to the client of Writ MacFee, Q.C.

EXTRA SPECIAL MOST REMAKABLE CASE VERDICT

THE tweezers of time, had sparsed his hair, when Tommins, L.R.C.P.Was mooning around, to a neighbouring square, to join in an evening tea,When a tremulous maiden, checked his steps, and cried him, "O Mister Man,Me mother's afeered, that the two pair back, is goin' to kick the can!O Mister Medical Sir, he's sick, an' owin' a quarter's rent,An' that's the most, of the cause for why, of the hurry, that I was sent,O Mister Medical Man, Sir please, O please Sir folly me quick,You might be able to worry him thro' from the fit of the stiffnin' sick!Oh! come Sir, please Sir, do Sir come,O hurry an' come with me quick!"From sympathetic professional heart, for indigent sick alway,He gave a positive kind response, to the girl, who thus did pray,And on thro' court, and alley, and lane, he followed her devious track,Then mounting a rickety deal wood stair, he entered a two pair back,And there, in the glim of a halfpenny dipt, he gazed on a ghastly man,And he counted his pulse, said the girl "Do you think he's likely to kick the can?"The sick man rose to an elbow prop, at Tommins, to blink and stare!He seemed an anatomy, made for show, of eyes, and nose, and hair,He peered awhile thro' the starving glim, and then, with a moan cried he,

THE tweezers of time, had sparsed his hair, when Tommins, L.R.C.P.

Was mooning around, to a neighbouring square, to join in an evening tea,

When a tremulous maiden, checked his steps, and cried him, "O Mister Man,

Me mother's afeered, that the two pair back, is goin' to kick the can!

O Mister Medical Sir, he's sick, an' owin' a quarter's rent,

An' that's the most, of the cause for why, of the hurry, that I was sent,

O Mister Medical Man, Sir please, O please Sir folly me quick,

You might be able to worry him thro' from the fit of the stiffnin' sick!

Oh! come Sir, please Sir, do Sir come,

O hurry an' come with me quick!"

From sympathetic professional heart, for indigent sick alway,

He gave a positive kind response, to the girl, who thus did pray,

And on thro' court, and alley, and lane, he followed her devious track,

Then mounting a rickety deal wood stair, he entered a two pair back,

And there, in the glim of a halfpenny dipt, he gazed on a ghastly man,

And he counted his pulse, said the girl "Do you think he's likely to kick the can?"

The sick man rose to an elbow prop, at Tommins, to blink and stare!

He seemed an anatomy, made for show, of eyes, and nose, and hair,

He peered awhile thro' the starving glim, and then, with a moan cried he,

"O God, have you come to haunt me here, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.?O is it with pills, or senna and salts, your 'shake up the bottle' and messOf slops, to avenge for the deed I've done? have mercy and I'll confess!O pester me not to swallow your stuff, I will not allow you to bleed!O spare me Tommins, I'm guilty, guilt, is what I'm about to plead!"

"O God, have you come to haunt me here, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.?

O is it with pills, or senna and salts, your 'shake up the bottle' and mess

Of slops, to avenge for the deed I've done? have mercy and I'll confess!

O pester me not to swallow your stuff, I will not allow you to bleed!

O spare me Tommins, I'm guilty, guilt, is what I'm about to plead!"

The doctor shrank with a searching gaze, that clung to the startled ghost,In doubt awhile, for the rounded lines of his manhood's prime were lost,Till memory striking the evil past, the doctor's eye did trace,With a shock to his heart, the Writ MacFee of the most remarkable case!His memory jarred on the Probate Court, with all its sorrowful shame,Disastrous check, to his early hopes, of honor, and medical fame,And with a potion of pity, and hate, he knew the furrowy faceOf the grim, of the Writ MacFee, Q.C., of the most remarkable case.The bloom of his pampered nose was gone, 'twas shrivelled, and pinched, and shrunk!His adipose peach of cheek, was fled, 'twas lean, and withered, and sunk,A derelict there; by the prosperous port of wealth, and power, and place,He lay the identical Writ MacFee, of the most remarkable case!

The doctor shrank with a searching gaze, that clung to the startled ghost,

In doubt awhile, for the rounded lines of his manhood's prime were lost,

Till memory striking the evil past, the doctor's eye did trace,

With a shock to his heart, the Writ MacFee of the most remarkable case!

His memory jarred on the Probate Court, with all its sorrowful shame,

Disastrous check, to his early hopes, of honor, and medical fame,

And with a potion of pity, and hate, he knew the furrowy face

Of the grim, of the Writ MacFee, Q.C., of the most remarkable case.

The bloom of his pampered nose was gone, 'twas shrivelled, and pinched, and shrunk!

His adipose peach of cheek, was fled, 'twas lean, and withered, and sunk,

A derelict there; by the prosperous port of wealth, and power, and place,

He lay the identical Writ MacFee, of the most remarkable case!

"O spare me doctor! for I'll confess,—I should have been in your place.As the treacherous co-respondent, of the most remarkable case,T'was I, was the homestead wrecker, but never as Writ MacFee,I played me, a knave's deception, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.!I bought from a needy super, the beard, moustaches, and wig,I managed to coach my tailor, to model me in your rig,And thus I received a welcome, to lunch, and dinner, and tea,As Tommins the medical doctor, but never as Writ MacFee.O Doctor Tommins have mercy! I beg to legacy thee,With thirty tickets of pawn to name, of Writ MacFee, Q.C.In a brief bag under the bed, tied up in a worn-out wig,You will find a memento there, of mock æsthetical rig,The spats and the collar and vest, I wore when I went to see,The Lady Monica Pendigrew, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.O Doctor Tommins forgive! the cost and the foul disgrace,Of debt, for the illsome guilt, of the most remarkable case,O Doctor Tommins have grace!" he rose with a greedy stare,And gripped with his reedy fists, the mat of his weedy hair!Then moaning a hungry sigh, for life, with a choking breath,He fell with accusing cry, "O Tommins you've brought me death!But I won't have a pauper's coffin! so give me a decent show—Whew!—eh—what's this? O thunder thun—un—der and lightning———Oh!Ah!—mercy me Lud! O mercy! thun—un—der an' light—ning———Oh!!It's a sine die, the morrow for me, Ah! mercy me Lud, Oh!———Oh!"

"O spare me doctor! for I'll confess,—I should have been in your place.

As the treacherous co-respondent, of the most remarkable case,

T'was I, was the homestead wrecker, but never as Writ MacFee,

I played me, a knave's deception, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.!

I bought from a needy super, the beard, moustaches, and wig,

I managed to coach my tailor, to model me in your rig,

And thus I received a welcome, to lunch, and dinner, and tea,

As Tommins the medical doctor, but never as Writ MacFee.

O Doctor Tommins have mercy! I beg to legacy thee,

With thirty tickets of pawn to name, of Writ MacFee, Q.C.

In a brief bag under the bed, tied up in a worn-out wig,

You will find a memento there, of mock æsthetical rig,

The spats and the collar and vest, I wore when I went to see,

The Lady Monica Pendigrew, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.

O Doctor Tommins forgive! the cost and the foul disgrace,

Of debt, for the illsome guilt, of the most remarkable case,

O Doctor Tommins have grace!" he rose with a greedy stare,

And gripped with his reedy fists, the mat of his weedy hair!

Then moaning a hungry sigh, for life, with a choking breath,

He fell with accusing cry, "O Tommins you've brought me death!

But I won't have a pauper's coffin! so give me a decent show—

Whew!—eh—what's this? O thunder thun—un—der and lightning———Oh!

Ah!—mercy me Lud! O mercy! thun—un—der an' light—ning———Oh!!

It's a sine die, the morrow for me, Ah! mercy me Lud, Oh!———Oh!"

The girl ran out of the two pair back, and down the stairs she ran,With shouts, as she took three steps at a time, "The lodger has kicked the can!Mother, O mother, we've lost the rent, the lodger has kicked the can!It's just what you said of the two pair back, he's gone an he's kicked the can!"

The girl ran out of the two pair back, and down the stairs she ran,

With shouts, as she took three steps at a time, "The lodger has kicked the can!

Mother, O mother, we've lost the rent, the lodger has kicked the can!

It's just what you said of the two pair back, he's gone an he's kicked the can!"

A Trip to SvitserlandSAID she, "The Parkinses have gone, and all the Doolys, too,The Mcriartys, and the Dunns, and Mrs. old MacHugh;The Dalys and Fitzpatricks, with all their kin, and kinds,Have mounted crumpled papers, on all their window blinds.Ah! stop that old piano, you ding it all the day,It's only when your pupils are here, you make it pay;And all your pupils' parents, and all their kin, and kinds,Have all got crumpled papers, on all their cotton blinds."He stopped the old piano, and "Vot of zat?" said he,"Regarding which, we'll have to do exact the same," said she."For if we don't, we'll be the talk for many a day to come,That when all others went abroad, the Zazels kept at home.It's positively foolish, affects your daughter's hopes—""Vel, zhere," said he, "go pack ze thronk, I'll tie it vit ze ropes;And you discharge ze servong, ze moment zat you find,She's pinned ze crumpled papers, on all ze cotton blind:And put ze gossip on her tongue, for Svitzerland ve sail,Ze-morrow in ze Dover boat, vot brings ze voreign mail;And say, its Oh, so secret, by shings, but she vill blowZe news, around ze town, until ze all ze people know."The Dover boat had started, when, lo! prospecting round,A man upon the windows, those crumpled papers found."Hello!" said he, "such houses are always left for me,"And crept into the fanlight, and foraged round with glee.He stole away the silver, he stole away the clocks,He augured out the secret, of the children's savings' box;He laughed, and he did chuckle, and cackling "Ha!" said he,"The men who leave their houses thus, are men who toil for me."Alas! that in my ballads, I have to tune my song,To many flats, and minors, to show where sharps go wrong.He donned a suit, next morning,And sought an auctioneer—"I'm ordered out to China, so harken, and look here;Bring up your ivory hammer to the house, where you will see,The blinds in crumpled papers, and cant the lot for me."He auctioned off the carpets, the suites of every room,He canted to a builder, the villa for its doom;He made him sign a docket, to take down every brick,Within the shortest notice, so he commenced it quick.They first upset the chimneys, and then unstitched the slates,They lifted off the rafters, and rooted out the grates;The door, and window casings, they took in several hauls,And carted off, the debris of bricks, that made the walls.At length a workman picking with crowbar, in the rear,Let fall his pipe in terror, his knees went loose with fear,A chill of woe electric, begirt his heart, like lead,He found a row of corpses, and every corpse was dead!I've sketched him, with the crowbar, and falling pipe, to showHis awful fright, and sorrow, the fact is, such a blowMight paralize his senses, unfit him for his trade—I hope some kindly ladies, will have collections made.But yet a glamoured beauty was on them all, so nice,He felt like pins and needles, in glass of strawberry ice,He shambled round a corner, "O Constable!" he said,"I've found a row of corpses, and every corpse is dead!"I like that honest fellow, tho' poor, with eye forlorn,Said he, "O Mister Pleeceman, I wish I wasn't born"—I've sought again to sketch him, above their ghastly rest,He indicates a label, on every corpse's breast.'Twas down an empty cellar, below the bottle shelves,They looked as they were sleeping, in fact, they looked themselves,The daughters of Herr Zazel, the wife of Zazel, andThe Pleeceman asked for Zazel, was he in Switzerland?The oldest native, answered a deputating clutchOf specials, that there never before did happen such,And so they wrote sensations, and from the civic band,A posse of detectives, went scoot for Switzerland.The crowner's Morgue was opened, the jurymen were caught,And every man protested, although he didn't ought,They went to view the corpses."Mein gott, vots them?" said one,"Votever has there happened, vots been, and gone, and done?I could'nt spare ze money, avay mit me, so many,And so tinks I, I'll mesmer zem all, I vont brings any,I wraps 'em up mit labels, vots tied upon zem zare,Ven I comes home, to vake 'em, and sorts 'em up mit care.I vos in my purse, only ze cash enough to stand,For vot you calls, von single man, avay in Svitzerland.And so I mesmerised my vife, my daughters, von by von,And now I'll vake 'em all, and zen, by shings, you zee me run!"He party pumped his arms, he made a maze of passes,With flashing eyes of flame, that lit his pinc nez glasses.He clawed with his phalanges as he were going to seizeSome hidden ghost, when lo! at length, his wife began to sneeze,His wife commenced the sneezing, the girls took up the que,"Now zee me run, or you vill find, too moosh vor me to do,"He cried, and off he started, and took the tram for home,When peering thro' the twilight, of autumn's evening gloam,He saw a shocking poster, that curdled up his blood,"This ground to let for building," on which his house had stood,He laughed a weird, and woful, idiotic laugh at fate,He took a second tram-car, and sought a barber straight,And sitting down, he uttered a low despairing groan,"I'm vot you calls vor Bedlam, so shaves me to ze bone!!"

A Trip to SvitserlandS

AID she, "The Parkinses have gone, and all the Doolys, too,The Mcriartys, and the Dunns, and Mrs. old MacHugh;The Dalys and Fitzpatricks, with all their kin, and kinds,Have mounted crumpled papers, on all their window blinds.Ah! stop that old piano, you ding it all the day,It's only when your pupils are here, you make it pay;And all your pupils' parents, and all their kin, and kinds,Have all got crumpled papers, on all their cotton blinds."He stopped the old piano, and "Vot of zat?" said he,"Regarding which, we'll have to do exact the same," said she."For if we don't, we'll be the talk for many a day to come,That when all others went abroad, the Zazels kept at home.It's positively foolish, affects your daughter's hopes—""Vel, zhere," said he, "go pack ze thronk, I'll tie it vit ze ropes;And you discharge ze servong, ze moment zat you find,She's pinned ze crumpled papers, on all ze cotton blind:And put ze gossip on her tongue, for Svitzerland ve sail,Ze-morrow in ze Dover boat, vot brings ze voreign mail;And say, its Oh, so secret, by shings, but she vill blowZe news, around ze town, until ze all ze people know."The Dover boat had started, when, lo! prospecting round,A man upon the windows, those crumpled papers found."Hello!" said he, "such houses are always left for me,"And crept into the fanlight, and foraged round with glee.He stole away the silver, he stole away the clocks,He augured out the secret, of the children's savings' box;He laughed, and he did chuckle, and cackling "Ha!" said he,"The men who leave their houses thus, are men who toil for me."Alas! that in my ballads, I have to tune my song,To many flats, and minors, to show where sharps go wrong.He donned a suit, next morning,And sought an auctioneer—"I'm ordered out to China, so harken, and look here;Bring up your ivory hammer to the house, where you will see,The blinds in crumpled papers, and cant the lot for me."He auctioned off the carpets, the suites of every room,He canted to a builder, the villa for its doom;He made him sign a docket, to take down every brick,Within the shortest notice, so he commenced it quick.They first upset the chimneys, and then unstitched the slates,They lifted off the rafters, and rooted out the grates;The door, and window casings, they took in several hauls,And carted off, the debris of bricks, that made the walls.At length a workman picking with crowbar, in the rear,Let fall his pipe in terror, his knees went loose with fear,A chill of woe electric, begirt his heart, like lead,He found a row of corpses, and every corpse was dead!I've sketched him, with the crowbar, and falling pipe, to showHis awful fright, and sorrow, the fact is, such a blowMight paralize his senses, unfit him for his trade—I hope some kindly ladies, will have collections made.But yet a glamoured beauty was on them all, so nice,He felt like pins and needles, in glass of strawberry ice,He shambled round a corner, "O Constable!" he said,"I've found a row of corpses, and every corpse is dead!"I like that honest fellow, tho' poor, with eye forlorn,Said he, "O Mister Pleeceman, I wish I wasn't born"—I've sought again to sketch him, above their ghastly rest,He indicates a label, on every corpse's breast.'Twas down an empty cellar, below the bottle shelves,They looked as they were sleeping, in fact, they looked themselves,The daughters of Herr Zazel, the wife of Zazel, andThe Pleeceman asked for Zazel, was he in Switzerland?The oldest native, answered a deputating clutchOf specials, that there never before did happen such,And so they wrote sensations, and from the civic band,A posse of detectives, went scoot for Switzerland.The crowner's Morgue was opened, the jurymen were caught,And every man protested, although he didn't ought,They went to view the corpses."Mein gott, vots them?" said one,"Votever has there happened, vots been, and gone, and done?I could'nt spare ze money, avay mit me, so many,And so tinks I, I'll mesmer zem all, I vont brings any,I wraps 'em up mit labels, vots tied upon zem zare,Ven I comes home, to vake 'em, and sorts 'em up mit care.I vos in my purse, only ze cash enough to stand,For vot you calls, von single man, avay in Svitzerland.And so I mesmerised my vife, my daughters, von by von,And now I'll vake 'em all, and zen, by shings, you zee me run!"He party pumped his arms, he made a maze of passes,With flashing eyes of flame, that lit his pinc nez glasses.He clawed with his phalanges as he were going to seizeSome hidden ghost, when lo! at length, his wife began to sneeze,His wife commenced the sneezing, the girls took up the que,"Now zee me run, or you vill find, too moosh vor me to do,"He cried, and off he started, and took the tram for home,When peering thro' the twilight, of autumn's evening gloam,He saw a shocking poster, that curdled up his blood,"This ground to let for building," on which his house had stood,He laughed a weird, and woful, idiotic laugh at fate,He took a second tram-car, and sought a barber straight,And sitting down, he uttered a low despairing groan,"I'm vot you calls vor Bedlam, so shaves me to ze bone!!"

AID she, "The Parkinses have gone, and all the Doolys, too,

The Mcriartys, and the Dunns, and Mrs. old MacHugh;

The Dalys and Fitzpatricks, with all their kin, and kinds,

Have mounted crumpled papers, on all their window blinds.

Ah! stop that old piano, you ding it all the day,

It's only when your pupils are here, you make it pay;

And all your pupils' parents, and all their kin, and kinds,

Have all got crumpled papers, on all their cotton blinds."

He stopped the old piano, and "Vot of zat?" said he,

"Regarding which, we'll have to do exact the same," said she.

"For if we don't, we'll be the talk for many a day to come,

That when all others went abroad, the Zazels kept at home.

It's positively foolish, affects your daughter's hopes—"

"Vel, zhere," said he, "go pack ze thronk, I'll tie it vit ze ropes;

And you discharge ze servong, ze moment zat you find,

She's pinned ze crumpled papers, on all ze cotton blind:

And put ze gossip on her tongue, for Svitzerland ve sail,

Ze-morrow in ze Dover boat, vot brings ze voreign mail;

And say, its Oh, so secret, by shings, but she vill blow

Ze news, around ze town, until ze all ze people know."

The Dover boat had started, when, lo! prospecting round,A man upon the windows, those crumpled papers found.

The Dover boat had started, when, lo! prospecting round,

A man upon the windows, those crumpled papers found.

"Hello!" said he, "such houses are always left for me,"And crept into the fanlight, and foraged round with glee.He stole away the silver, he stole away the clocks,He augured out the secret, of the children's savings' box;He laughed, and he did chuckle, and cackling "Ha!" said he,"The men who leave their houses thus, are men who toil for me."Alas! that in my ballads, I have to tune my song,To many flats, and minors, to show where sharps go wrong.

"Hello!" said he, "such houses are always left for me,"

And crept into the fanlight, and foraged round with glee.

He stole away the silver, he stole away the clocks,

He augured out the secret, of the children's savings' box;

He laughed, and he did chuckle, and cackling "Ha!" said he,

"The men who leave their houses thus, are men who toil for me."

Alas! that in my ballads, I have to tune my song,

To many flats, and minors, to show where sharps go wrong.

He donned a suit, next morning,And sought an auctioneer—"I'm ordered out to China, so harken, and look here;Bring up your ivory hammer to the house, where you will see,The blinds in crumpled papers, and cant the lot for me."He auctioned off the carpets, the suites of every room,He canted to a builder, the villa for its doom;He made him sign a docket, to take down every brick,Within the shortest notice, so he commenced it quick.They first upset the chimneys, and then unstitched the slates,They lifted off the rafters, and rooted out the grates;The door, and window casings, they took in several hauls,And carted off, the debris of bricks, that made the walls.

He donned a suit, next morning,

And sought an auctioneer—

"I'm ordered out to China, so harken, and look here;

Bring up your ivory hammer to the house, where you will see,

The blinds in crumpled papers, and cant the lot for me."

He auctioned off the carpets, the suites of every room,

He canted to a builder, the villa for its doom;

He made him sign a docket, to take down every brick,

Within the shortest notice, so he commenced it quick.

They first upset the chimneys, and then unstitched the slates,

They lifted off the rafters, and rooted out the grates;

The door, and window casings, they took in several hauls,

And carted off, the debris of bricks, that made the walls.

At length a workman picking with crowbar, in the rear,Let fall his pipe in terror, his knees went loose with fear,A chill of woe electric, begirt his heart, like lead,He found a row of corpses, and every corpse was dead!

At length a workman picking with crowbar, in the rear,

Let fall his pipe in terror, his knees went loose with fear,

A chill of woe electric, begirt his heart, like lead,

He found a row of corpses, and every corpse was dead!

I've sketched him, with the crowbar, and falling pipe, to showHis awful fright, and sorrow, the fact is, such a blowMight paralize his senses, unfit him for his trade—I hope some kindly ladies, will have collections made.But yet a glamoured beauty was on them all, so nice,He felt like pins and needles, in glass of strawberry ice,He shambled round a corner, "O Constable!" he said,"I've found a row of corpses, and every corpse is dead!"I like that honest fellow, tho' poor, with eye forlorn,Said he, "O Mister Pleeceman, I wish I wasn't born"—I've sought again to sketch him, above their ghastly rest,He indicates a label, on every corpse's breast.

I've sketched him, with the crowbar, and falling pipe, to show

His awful fright, and sorrow, the fact is, such a blow

Might paralize his senses, unfit him for his trade—

I hope some kindly ladies, will have collections made.

But yet a glamoured beauty was on them all, so nice,

He felt like pins and needles, in glass of strawberry ice,

He shambled round a corner, "O Constable!" he said,

"I've found a row of corpses, and every corpse is dead!"

I like that honest fellow, tho' poor, with eye forlorn,

Said he, "O Mister Pleeceman, I wish I wasn't born"—

I've sought again to sketch him, above their ghastly rest,

He indicates a label, on every corpse's breast.

'Twas down an empty cellar, below the bottle shelves,They looked as they were sleeping, in fact, they looked themselves,

'Twas down an empty cellar, below the bottle shelves,

They looked as they were sleeping, in fact, they looked themselves,

The daughters of Herr Zazel, the wife of Zazel, andThe Pleeceman asked for Zazel, was he in Switzerland?The oldest native, answered a deputating clutchOf specials, that there never before did happen such,And so they wrote sensations, and from the civic band,A posse of detectives, went scoot for Switzerland.

The daughters of Herr Zazel, the wife of Zazel, and

The Pleeceman asked for Zazel, was he in Switzerland?

The oldest native, answered a deputating clutch

Of specials, that there never before did happen such,

And so they wrote sensations, and from the civic band,

A posse of detectives, went scoot for Switzerland.

The crowner's Morgue was opened, the jurymen were caught,And every man protested, although he didn't ought,They went to view the corpses.

The crowner's Morgue was opened, the jurymen were caught,

And every man protested, although he didn't ought,

They went to view the corpses.

"Mein gott, vots them?" said one,"Votever has there happened, vots been, and gone, and done?I could'nt spare ze money, avay mit me, so many,And so tinks I, I'll mesmer zem all, I vont brings any,I wraps 'em up mit labels, vots tied upon zem zare,Ven I comes home, to vake 'em, and sorts 'em up mit care.I vos in my purse, only ze cash enough to stand,For vot you calls, von single man, avay in Svitzerland.And so I mesmerised my vife, my daughters, von by von,And now I'll vake 'em all, and zen, by shings, you zee me run!"

"Mein gott, vots them?" said one,

"Votever has there happened, vots been, and gone, and done?

I could'nt spare ze money, avay mit me, so many,

And so tinks I, I'll mesmer zem all, I vont brings any,

I wraps 'em up mit labels, vots tied upon zem zare,

Ven I comes home, to vake 'em, and sorts 'em up mit care.

I vos in my purse, only ze cash enough to stand,

For vot you calls, von single man, avay in Svitzerland.

And so I mesmerised my vife, my daughters, von by von,

And now I'll vake 'em all, and zen, by shings, you zee me run!"

He party pumped his arms, he made a maze of passes,With flashing eyes of flame, that lit his pinc nez glasses.He clawed with his phalanges as he were going to seizeSome hidden ghost, when lo! at length, his wife began to sneeze,

He party pumped his arms, he made a maze of passes,

With flashing eyes of flame, that lit his pinc nez glasses.

He clawed with his phalanges as he were going to seize

Some hidden ghost, when lo! at length, his wife began to sneeze,

His wife commenced the sneezing, the girls took up the que,"Now zee me run, or you vill find, too moosh vor me to do,"He cried, and off he started, and took the tram for home,When peering thro' the twilight, of autumn's evening gloam,He saw a shocking poster, that curdled up his blood,"This ground to let for building," on which his house had stood,He laughed a weird, and woful, idiotic laugh at fate,He took a second tram-car, and sought a barber straight,And sitting down, he uttered a low despairing groan,"I'm vot you calls vor Bedlam, so shaves me to ze bone!!"

His wife commenced the sneezing, the girls took up the que,

"Now zee me run, or you vill find, too moosh vor me to do,"

He cried, and off he started, and took the tram for home,

When peering thro' the twilight, of autumn's evening gloam,

He saw a shocking poster, that curdled up his blood,

"This ground to let for building," on which his house had stood,

He laughed a weird, and woful, idiotic laugh at fate,

He took a second tram-car, and sought a barber straight,

And sitting down, he uttered a low despairing groan,

"I'm vot you calls vor Bedlam, so shaves me to ze bone!!"

Joy on seeing a flying springI

IMADE him quite at home,In a villa just by Rome,—An Italian, of the antient noble style,—But I saw him 'neath a star,And the tink of his guitar,Was an irritating thing, that made me smile,His object, was my spouse for to beguile,But when he caught it hot,With sporting gun, and shot,He took a flying spring, across a stile!His object, was my spouse for to beguile.

IMADE him quite at home,

In a villa just by Rome,—

An Italian, of the antient noble style,—

But I saw him 'neath a star,

And the tink of his guitar,

Was an irritating thing, that made me smile,

His object, was my spouse for to beguile,

But when he caught it hot,

With sporting gun, and shot,

He took a flying spring, across a stile!

His object, was my spouse for to beguile.

The Mate of the Mary Anne

"I' M the Mate," quoth he, "Of the 'Mary Anne,'"As she opened the door to him,And I'm all the way from the state of New York,With a present, I've got from Jim!""O dear!" said she, "It's a pleasure to seeA friend, who has known my son,We've a party, enjoying the evening tea,And you're just in time for fun.""Ah! thank you," said he, "I would like to explain,The chest, is a cumbersome weight,I'd have brought it myself; but I hadn't the dimes,To cover the cost of the freight."It's a matter of seventeen shillings and six,But you see, I am one of the crew,I'd have paid it myself, for sake of your son,If I could have lifted my screw.""Ah! Jim was the very best pal that I knew,"She got out the cash for him,"Now hang up your hat, and come in to the tea,And tell us a lot about Jim."He hung up his hat, and went in to the tea,Said he to a girl, who was there,"You're the livin' dead image of my chum Jim,Regardin' yer figure, and hair."Said he to another, "Yer like yer mother,But still the expression of Jim,Is a playin' around yer beautiful smile,A perfeck sister of him."I guess you are soft, on the ring that I wear,"And he 'splayed his horney fist,"I'd like you to wear it, for honor of Jim,'Twould almost bangle your wrist!"For savin' his wife, from a shark, I gotThe trinket, at Scooperaboo,From a Monarch, who gave it me, out of his nose,I'm proud to present it to you."The ring is too grand, for my tanned hand,It's a valuable old gew gaw,I'm skeered, I'd be robbed o' the thing some night,In the grip of a lawless claw."It's a putty gay keepsake, that you've got there,I'd be glad for sake of poor Jim—"And he paused, "O yes you may have it," said she,"Ah! thanks! when I'm back with him."I guess he'll be proud to see it, and hear,That I have presented to you,The ring that I got, for savin' the wife,Of the Monarch of Scooperaboo."I've a bauble that's here, on a link of my chain,It's made of a nugget I got,I never can know it, I'll maybe be darned!Or drowned! or skivered! or shot!"It's a nugget to waste, with a fellow like me,To be sportin' it out of the shop,Here! take it by gum! you're the mother of Jim!Or maybe I'd put it in pop.""Ah! Sir" said the mother "You're far too kind!"As he fastened it on to her chain,"Will you keep this locket in place of it? there,I will never require it again,""Aha!" said he, "It's a moral, to seeYou're the spirit of Jim all out,I'll have it, and wear it, for honour of Jim,Without no manner of doubt."Eh! what's the time, I am bound to an hour,I'd like to remain, if I can,But the captain's keepin' the cable taut,On the men of the 'Mary Anne.'"Let somebody travel with me to-night,Who will carry the luggage ashore,I'll bring all your compliments out to Jim,If I may not see you no more."Said a girl, who was there, with auburn hair,Who hadn't been talking free,"The weather is dark, and you say the ship,Is out some yards at sea,"It's better that two, should travel with you,The journey's a little too far,And one'll take charge of the present from Jim,The other, can go for a car."So two of the gentlemen, offered to go,Who had been at the evening tea,And they all shook hands, and the three took tramp,To the wall, by the wailing sea."I guess that we ought to be havin' a quench,"Said the Mate, "For I always do,I never go thirsty, aboard at night,"So he went, and treated the two.They sat in a room, at the back of the bar,Discussing three tumblers hot,"I'm darned, if we won't have a couple of smokes!"Said he, "And I'll settle the shot.""You'll pull a cigar with me, by gum!I'll get them 'and jest you set,'"He went with his purse, to the bar to pay,And they have not seen him yet!But whether he's shot, or whether he's drowned,Or darned, the Host did say,Behind the bar, as he pulled a pint,That "the drink was still to pay!"She laughed a laugh, when the twain returned,"You're a mighty discerning pair!"And she posed her nose, with a tilted tip,Did the girl, with the auburn hair.They all suggested, a different way,Of finding the missing Mate,"Put out your brains," said the auburn hair,"On a clean, blue pattern plate."And twig a few of the cobwebs off,From Scooperaboo, look there!We've Brumagem trinkets, of glass, and brass!"Said the girl, of the auburn hair.

"I' M the Mate," quoth he, "Of the 'Mary Anne,'"As she opened the door to him,And I'm all the way from the state of New York,With a present, I've got from Jim!"

"I' M the Mate," quoth he, "Of the 'Mary Anne,'"

As she opened the door to him,

And I'm all the way from the state of New York,

With a present, I've got from Jim!"

"O dear!" said she, "It's a pleasure to seeA friend, who has known my son,We've a party, enjoying the evening tea,And you're just in time for fun."

"O dear!" said she, "It's a pleasure to see

A friend, who has known my son,

We've a party, enjoying the evening tea,

And you're just in time for fun."

"Ah! thank you," said he, "I would like to explain,The chest, is a cumbersome weight,I'd have brought it myself; but I hadn't the dimes,To cover the cost of the freight.

"Ah! thank you," said he, "I would like to explain,

The chest, is a cumbersome weight,

I'd have brought it myself; but I hadn't the dimes,

To cover the cost of the freight.

"It's a matter of seventeen shillings and six,But you see, I am one of the crew,I'd have paid it myself, for sake of your son,If I could have lifted my screw."

"It's a matter of seventeen shillings and six,

But you see, I am one of the crew,

I'd have paid it myself, for sake of your son,

If I could have lifted my screw."

"Ah! Jim was the very best pal that I knew,"She got out the cash for him,"Now hang up your hat, and come in to the tea,And tell us a lot about Jim."

"Ah! Jim was the very best pal that I knew,"

She got out the cash for him,

"Now hang up your hat, and come in to the tea,

And tell us a lot about Jim."

He hung up his hat, and went in to the tea,Said he to a girl, who was there,"You're the livin' dead image of my chum Jim,Regardin' yer figure, and hair."

He hung up his hat, and went in to the tea,

Said he to a girl, who was there,

"You're the livin' dead image of my chum Jim,

Regardin' yer figure, and hair."

Said he to another, "Yer like yer mother,But still the expression of Jim,Is a playin' around yer beautiful smile,A perfeck sister of him.

Said he to another, "Yer like yer mother,

But still the expression of Jim,

Is a playin' around yer beautiful smile,

A perfeck sister of him.

"I guess you are soft, on the ring that I wear,"And he 'splayed his horney fist,"I'd like you to wear it, for honor of Jim,'Twould almost bangle your wrist!

"I guess you are soft, on the ring that I wear,"

And he 'splayed his horney fist,

"I'd like you to wear it, for honor of Jim,

'Twould almost bangle your wrist!

"For savin' his wife, from a shark, I gotThe trinket, at Scooperaboo,From a Monarch, who gave it me, out of his nose,I'm proud to present it to you.

"For savin' his wife, from a shark, I got

The trinket, at Scooperaboo,

From a Monarch, who gave it me, out of his nose,

I'm proud to present it to you.

"The ring is too grand, for my tanned hand,It's a valuable old gew gaw,I'm skeered, I'd be robbed o' the thing some night,In the grip of a lawless claw.

"The ring is too grand, for my tanned hand,

It's a valuable old gew gaw,

I'm skeered, I'd be robbed o' the thing some night,

In the grip of a lawless claw.

"It's a putty gay keepsake, that you've got there,I'd be glad for sake of poor Jim—"And he paused, "O yes you may have it," said she,"Ah! thanks! when I'm back with him.

"It's a putty gay keepsake, that you've got there,

I'd be glad for sake of poor Jim—"

And he paused, "O yes you may have it," said she,

"Ah! thanks! when I'm back with him.

"I guess he'll be proud to see it, and hear,That I have presented to you,The ring that I got, for savin' the wife,Of the Monarch of Scooperaboo.

"I guess he'll be proud to see it, and hear,

That I have presented to you,

The ring that I got, for savin' the wife,

Of the Monarch of Scooperaboo.

"I've a bauble that's here, on a link of my chain,It's made of a nugget I got,I never can know it, I'll maybe be darned!Or drowned! or skivered! or shot!

"I've a bauble that's here, on a link of my chain,

It's made of a nugget I got,

I never can know it, I'll maybe be darned!

Or drowned! or skivered! or shot!

"It's a nugget to waste, with a fellow like me,To be sportin' it out of the shop,Here! take it by gum! you're the mother of Jim!Or maybe I'd put it in pop."

"It's a nugget to waste, with a fellow like me,

To be sportin' it out of the shop,

Here! take it by gum! you're the mother of Jim!

Or maybe I'd put it in pop."

"Ah! Sir" said the mother "You're far too kind!"As he fastened it on to her chain,"Will you keep this locket in place of it? there,I will never require it again,"

"Ah! Sir" said the mother "You're far too kind!"

As he fastened it on to her chain,

"Will you keep this locket in place of it? there,

I will never require it again,"

"Aha!" said he, "It's a moral, to seeYou're the spirit of Jim all out,I'll have it, and wear it, for honour of Jim,Without no manner of doubt.

"Aha!" said he, "It's a moral, to see

You're the spirit of Jim all out,

I'll have it, and wear it, for honour of Jim,

Without no manner of doubt.

"Eh! what's the time, I am bound to an hour,I'd like to remain, if I can,But the captain's keepin' the cable taut,On the men of the 'Mary Anne.'

"Eh! what's the time, I am bound to an hour,

I'd like to remain, if I can,

But the captain's keepin' the cable taut,

On the men of the 'Mary Anne.'

"Let somebody travel with me to-night,Who will carry the luggage ashore,I'll bring all your compliments out to Jim,If I may not see you no more."

"Let somebody travel with me to-night,

Who will carry the luggage ashore,

I'll bring all your compliments out to Jim,

If I may not see you no more."

Said a girl, who was there, with auburn hair,Who hadn't been talking free,"The weather is dark, and you say the ship,Is out some yards at sea,

Said a girl, who was there, with auburn hair,

Who hadn't been talking free,

"The weather is dark, and you say the ship,

Is out some yards at sea,

"It's better that two, should travel with you,The journey's a little too far,And one'll take charge of the present from Jim,The other, can go for a car."

"It's better that two, should travel with you,

The journey's a little too far,

And one'll take charge of the present from Jim,

The other, can go for a car."

So two of the gentlemen, offered to go,Who had been at the evening tea,And they all shook hands, and the three took tramp,To the wall, by the wailing sea.

So two of the gentlemen, offered to go,

Who had been at the evening tea,

And they all shook hands, and the three took tramp,

To the wall, by the wailing sea.

"I guess that we ought to be havin' a quench,"Said the Mate, "For I always do,I never go thirsty, aboard at night,"So he went, and treated the two.

"I guess that we ought to be havin' a quench,"

Said the Mate, "For I always do,

I never go thirsty, aboard at night,"

So he went, and treated the two.

They sat in a room, at the back of the bar,Discussing three tumblers hot,"I'm darned, if we won't have a couple of smokes!"Said he, "And I'll settle the shot."

They sat in a room, at the back of the bar,

Discussing three tumblers hot,

"I'm darned, if we won't have a couple of smokes!"

Said he, "And I'll settle the shot."

"You'll pull a cigar with me, by gum!I'll get them 'and jest you set,'"He went with his purse, to the bar to pay,And they have not seen him yet!

"You'll pull a cigar with me, by gum!

I'll get them 'and jest you set,'"

He went with his purse, to the bar to pay,

And they have not seen him yet!

But whether he's shot, or whether he's drowned,Or darned, the Host did say,Behind the bar, as he pulled a pint,That "the drink was still to pay!"

But whether he's shot, or whether he's drowned,

Or darned, the Host did say,

Behind the bar, as he pulled a pint,

That "the drink was still to pay!"

She laughed a laugh, when the twain returned,"You're a mighty discerning pair!"And she posed her nose, with a tilted tip,Did the girl, with the auburn hair.

She laughed a laugh, when the twain returned,

"You're a mighty discerning pair!"

And she posed her nose, with a tilted tip,

Did the girl, with the auburn hair.

They all suggested, a different way,Of finding the missing Mate,"Put out your brains," said the auburn hair,"On a clean, blue pattern plate.

They all suggested, a different way,

Of finding the missing Mate,

"Put out your brains," said the auburn hair,

"On a clean, blue pattern plate.

"And twig a few of the cobwebs off,From Scooperaboo, look there!We've Brumagem trinkets, of glass, and brass!"Said the girl, of the auburn hair.

"And twig a few of the cobwebs off,

From Scooperaboo, look there!

We've Brumagem trinkets, of glass, and brass!"

Said the girl, of the auburn hair.

Un umbrella case

I saw a dress! 'twas of my wife,She stepped along with frivol rife,And by her side, a man of strifeA guardsman of the line.Ha ha! So ho! was here a cause,To agitate the Probate laws,For a divorce, I did not pause,With guardsman of the line,I had an umbrella stout,I lifted it, I flung it out,In semicircle, with a shout,At guardsman of the line!Ah! me, for an unlucky wight!Beneath the sick electric light,She turned, O shock unto my sight!She was no wife of mine!He didn't draw, I wasn't slain,But of that blow, he did complain,And made me wipe away the stain,With legal brief, and twine.

I saw a dress! 'twas of my wife,She stepped along with frivol rife,And by her side, a man of strifeA guardsman of the line.

I saw a dress! 'twas of my wife,

She stepped along with frivol rife,

And by her side, a man of strife

A guardsman of the line.

Ha ha! So ho! was here a cause,To agitate the Probate laws,For a divorce, I did not pause,With guardsman of the line,

Ha ha! So ho! was here a cause,

To agitate the Probate laws,

For a divorce, I did not pause,

With guardsman of the line,

I had an umbrella stout,I lifted it, I flung it out,In semicircle, with a shout,At guardsman of the line!

I had an umbrella stout,

I lifted it, I flung it out,

In semicircle, with a shout,

At guardsman of the line!

Ah! me, for an unlucky wight!Beneath the sick electric light,She turned, O shock unto my sight!She was no wife of mine!

Ah! me, for an unlucky wight!

Beneath the sick electric light,

She turned, O shock unto my sight!

She was no wife of mine!

He didn't draw, I wasn't slain,But of that blow, he did complain,And made me wipe away the stain,With legal brief, and twine.

He didn't draw, I wasn't slain,

But of that blow, he did complain,

And made me wipe away the stain,

With legal brief, and twine.

A Story Told by Jones—The Spook of Rotten Row

ONE evening, as in troubled mood,I sampled Rotten Row,Across my scapula, I gotA sharp conclusive blow!A flat concussion of a palm,Was quick, and deftly laid,With rude familiar frowardness,Against my shoulder blade!The impact curled up my blood;And almost in a thrice,My heart refrigerated, toAn imprompt lump of ice!I feared it was a bailiff, andI sprang from off the sod!"I'm but a ghost!" said he, "you needNot start" said I "thank God!"I must confess, that I eschewA bailiff's companie,"A ghost, is much more welcome, toA person fixed like me."Thus into swift acquaintanship,Familiarly did glide,The spook of Rotten Row, and I,And walking side by side,We chatted in a varied way,And slowly sauntered round,Until we came upon a lone,And sparsy plot of ground,Then halting there, the spectre cried,In accents like a knell,"T'was here I fought a duel once,And there it was I fell!Behold a thistle growing there,And yon a shamrock too,And there in every season past,A little wild rose grew,A nursery in miniature,Of sign of Kingdoms three,That sprang spontaneous thro' the sod,From blood, that flowed from me,For lo! my sire was Rupert Smith,My mater was a Lynch;My grandmother per pater, wasA Flora Jane Mac Tinch,An uncle, on the mother's side,A Belfast Macinfee,This made the union perfect,And embodied thus in me,Was typed the British Empire,Per my consanguinitee.And it's an interesting fact,That Wales can share the fame,And pride, of my nativity,For, Jones, it was the name,My mother first accepted, asA matrimonial claim;But Jones was testily inclined,And all about a myth,In jealous hate, he fell beforeThe blade, of Rupert Smith!Then Rupert Smith, he minded ofThe widow's wail, and tear,And in remorse, he married her,As consequence, I'm here!The record of my gallant sire,To hot complexion grew,In me, till I was minded ofA cause, for fighting too.I knew a maid, and for her sake,My daily life was fuss,It is not always for a maid,A man's affected thus;But when she wasn't by my side,I felt how lonely, spaceWould be, if man could not behold,A single woman's face.And so I fondled, petted her,And worried, wrote some rhymes,And even got them published, inA small, suburban times,I took some pestilential pains,To learn the minuet,And trained my voice, to harmonise,With her's, in the duet.We married were, I faith! it wasA festal day, for hope,To care we gave the congè, andTo pleasure, extra scope,Until one day, my joy was washedAway, like scented soap!'Twas on this wise,—In Rotten Row,Midst fashionable life,I found a promenader there,In converse, with my wife!I parleyed not a moment, butAsserting manhood's law,I tweaked him by the nose, and cried,"Defend thyself and draw!"Resenting my impetuous way,The old command, to teach,He roused him to impromptu fire,Of indignation speech,And with a sneer, that galled my quick,He swore me, I must die!But with a rough right royal oath,I sneered him back the lie!"Thy name?" quoth I, "I am," said he,"A man of Deeds, and Loans,And auction sales,I come from Wales,My name is Mervyn Jones!""What?Mervyn Jones of Pontypridd?""Exactly so, the same,"Said he,—I heard of him before,And quivered at his name!For 'twas the name, thro' which the worldHad come to hear of me,By pruning blade of Smith, on Jones;His genealogic tree,"Yes I am Jones!"Quoth he, "By loans,And mortgaged, for her life,Thro' debts to me, attorney's power,I hold upon thy wife,So skin thy blade, I'll give thee cause,To tweak my nose!" he saith,"I'll auction thee, unto the bid,Of good old broker death!"—Hereditary fate it seemed,That I must fight with Jones,I would have shirked it, but for those,His irritating tones,I feared a compensating fate,Might strike an even deal,Betwixt the house of Smith, and Jones,But skinning forth my steel,I smote at him, by hip, and thigh,By carte, and aye by tierce,I held him to his guard, with quick,Aggressive strokes, and fierce,But lo! the cunning of my wrist,A moment lapsed! with artOf subtle fencer, past my guard,He pinked me, in the heart!It skivered me, just like the fork,That spoils a grilling steak,I shivered, with a yell, and then,A woman's cry,—and crakeOf joy from him, with mighty pang,I leaped in air, and fell!A muffled music thrilled my brain;For me, the passing knell,From numbing toe, and finger tip,The graduating thrillOf life's collapse, crept over me,I wriggled, and lay still!Then, from the chrysolid of flesh,Light spirited I rose,And gazed upon my corse, as onA suit of cast off clothes,My widow shrieked, and fainted, butA golden vinagarette,My slayer lifted from his fob,And to her nose, he setThe bauble, while he pinched her, slappedHer hands, and brought her to,Then speaking to my mortal wreck,Said he, "Now as for you,I have avenged the slur uponMy nose, thy tweak hath wrought,Thou art the loser, in the gameOf combat, that thou sought,But lo! thy widow, will not weepIt long, for I may say,She'll shed her weeds, and she will wedWith me, the first of May!Then, with my spouse upon his arm,He turned, and sneaked away,And left me here, a widowed ghost,Aye, even to this day!"My indignation at his wrongs,I told the grateful spook:"Gramercy!" cried he, as with mistyFist, my hand he shook,And charged me thus, with eager verve,Of deep revengeful tones,"If ever thou dost meet a man,Who deals in deeds, and loans,Who bears the patronymic, andThe shield, of Mervyn Jones,I care not how, by forgery!By fist, or aye by knife!By sneaking of his fiancée,Or mayhap of his wife!By burgling of his premises,Or pelting him with stones!Avenge me, on the offspring, ofThe man, called Mervyn Jones!"I sware him, if such christened man,Did ever dare my sight,In widest open day, or fromThe nooks, of darkest night!It mattered not, if extra tall,Or what his weight, or width,I'd borrow from him, to avengeThe wrongs, of Rupert Smith!"I thank thee well!" the spectre cried,With chuckle, sad, and grim,"Adieu!"And lo! he vanished thro'The hazy gloaming dim:He vanished, and I thanked my luck,He left no aching bones!For I'm a male descendant, ofThe man, called Mervyn Jones!And Mervyn, haps my christian name,A broker, I am he,A windfall fructifaction, ofThat genealogic tree.Next evening, when I told this tale,To Doctor Bolus Chuff,Incredulous, and unimpressed,With mien, erect, and tough,Presenting a prescription, forSome tonic tempered pills,Said he "Thro' too much spirits, youHave got D.T.'s and chills!"

ONE evening, as in troubled mood,I sampled Rotten Row,Across my scapula, I gotA sharp conclusive blow!

ONE evening, as in troubled mood,

I sampled Rotten Row,

Across my scapula, I got

A sharp conclusive blow!

A flat concussion of a palm,Was quick, and deftly laid,With rude familiar frowardness,Against my shoulder blade!The impact curled up my blood;And almost in a thrice,My heart refrigerated, toAn imprompt lump of ice!

A flat concussion of a palm,

Was quick, and deftly laid,

With rude familiar frowardness,

Against my shoulder blade!

The impact curled up my blood;

And almost in a thrice,

My heart refrigerated, to

An imprompt lump of ice!

I feared it was a bailiff, andI sprang from off the sod!"I'm but a ghost!" said he, "you needNot start" said I "thank God!"I must confess, that I eschewA bailiff's companie,"A ghost, is much more welcome, toA person fixed like me."

I feared it was a bailiff, and

I sprang from off the sod!

"I'm but a ghost!" said he, "you need

Not start" said I "thank God!

"I must confess, that I eschew

A bailiff's companie,

"A ghost, is much more welcome, to

A person fixed like me."

Thus into swift acquaintanship,Familiarly did glide,The spook of Rotten Row, and I,And walking side by side,We chatted in a varied way,And slowly sauntered round,Until we came upon a lone,And sparsy plot of ground,

Thus into swift acquaintanship,

Familiarly did glide,

The spook of Rotten Row, and I,

And walking side by side,

We chatted in a varied way,

And slowly sauntered round,

Until we came upon a lone,

And sparsy plot of ground,

Then halting there, the spectre cried,In accents like a knell,"T'was here I fought a duel once,And there it was I fell!Behold a thistle growing there,And yon a shamrock too,And there in every season past,A little wild rose grew,A nursery in miniature,Of sign of Kingdoms three,That sprang spontaneous thro' the sod,From blood, that flowed from me,For lo! my sire was Rupert Smith,My mater was a Lynch;My grandmother per pater, wasA Flora Jane Mac Tinch,An uncle, on the mother's side,A Belfast Macinfee,This made the union perfect,And embodied thus in me,Was typed the British Empire,Per my consanguinitee.And it's an interesting fact,That Wales can share the fame,And pride, of my nativity,For, Jones, it was the name,My mother first accepted, asA matrimonial claim;But Jones was testily inclined,And all about a myth,In jealous hate, he fell beforeThe blade, of Rupert Smith!Then Rupert Smith, he minded ofThe widow's wail, and tear,And in remorse, he married her,As consequence, I'm here!The record of my gallant sire,To hot complexion grew,In me, till I was minded ofA cause, for fighting too.I knew a maid, and for her sake,My daily life was fuss,It is not always for a maid,A man's affected thus;But when she wasn't by my side,I felt how lonely, spaceWould be, if man could not behold,A single woman's face.And so I fondled, petted her,And worried, wrote some rhymes,And even got them published, inA small, suburban times,I took some pestilential pains,To learn the minuet,And trained my voice, to harmonise,With her's, in the duet.

Then halting there, the spectre cried,

In accents like a knell,

"T'was here I fought a duel once,

And there it was I fell!

Behold a thistle growing there,

And yon a shamrock too,

And there in every season past,

A little wild rose grew,

A nursery in miniature,

Of sign of Kingdoms three,

That sprang spontaneous thro' the sod,

From blood, that flowed from me,

For lo! my sire was Rupert Smith,

My mater was a Lynch;

My grandmother per pater, was

A Flora Jane Mac Tinch,

An uncle, on the mother's side,

A Belfast Macinfee,

This made the union perfect,

And embodied thus in me,

Was typed the British Empire,

Per my consanguinitee.

And it's an interesting fact,

That Wales can share the fame,

And pride, of my nativity,

For, Jones, it was the name,

My mother first accepted, as

A matrimonial claim;

But Jones was testily inclined,

And all about a myth,

In jealous hate, he fell before

The blade, of Rupert Smith!

Then Rupert Smith, he minded of

The widow's wail, and tear,

And in remorse, he married her,

As consequence, I'm here!

The record of my gallant sire,

To hot complexion grew,

In me, till I was minded of

A cause, for fighting too.

I knew a maid, and for her sake,

My daily life was fuss,

It is not always for a maid,

A man's affected thus;

But when she wasn't by my side,

I felt how lonely, space

Would be, if man could not behold,

A single woman's face.

And so I fondled, petted her,

And worried, wrote some rhymes,

And even got them published, in

A small, suburban times,

I took some pestilential pains,

To learn the minuet,

And trained my voice, to harmonise,

With her's, in the duet.

We married were, I faith! it wasA festal day, for hope,To care we gave the congè, andTo pleasure, extra scope,Until one day, my joy was washedAway, like scented soap!'Twas on this wise,—In Rotten Row,Midst fashionable life,I found a promenader there,In converse, with my wife!I parleyed not a moment, butAsserting manhood's law,

We married were, I faith! it was

A festal day, for hope,

To care we gave the congè, and

To pleasure, extra scope,

Until one day, my joy was washed

Away, like scented soap!

'Twas on this wise,—

In Rotten Row,

Midst fashionable life,

I found a promenader there,

In converse, with my wife!

I parleyed not a moment, but

Asserting manhood's law,

I tweaked him by the nose, and cried,"Defend thyself and draw!"Resenting my impetuous way,The old command, to teach,He roused him to impromptu fire,Of indignation speech,And with a sneer, that galled my quick,He swore me, I must die!But with a rough right royal oath,I sneered him back the lie!"Thy name?" quoth I, "I am," said he,"A man of Deeds, and Loans,And auction sales,I come from Wales,My name is Mervyn Jones!""What?Mervyn Jones of Pontypridd?""Exactly so, the same,"Said he,—I heard of him before,And quivered at his name!For 'twas the name, thro' which the worldHad come to hear of me,By pruning blade of Smith, on Jones;His genealogic tree,"Yes I am Jones!"Quoth he, "By loans,And mortgaged, for her life,Thro' debts to me, attorney's power,I hold upon thy wife,So skin thy blade, I'll give thee cause,To tweak my nose!" he saith,"I'll auction thee, unto the bid,Of good old broker death!"—Hereditary fate it seemed,That I must fight with Jones,I would have shirked it, but for those,His irritating tones,I feared a compensating fate,Might strike an even deal,Betwixt the house of Smith, and Jones,But skinning forth my steel,I smote at him, by hip, and thigh,By carte, and aye by tierce,I held him to his guard, with quick,Aggressive strokes, and fierce,But lo! the cunning of my wrist,A moment lapsed! with artOf subtle fencer, past my guard,He pinked me, in the heart!It skivered me, just like the fork,That spoils a grilling steak,I shivered, with a yell, and then,A woman's cry,—and crakeOf joy from him, with mighty pang,I leaped in air, and fell!A muffled music thrilled my brain;For me, the passing knell,From numbing toe, and finger tip,The graduating thrillOf life's collapse, crept over me,I wriggled, and lay still!Then, from the chrysolid of flesh,Light spirited I rose,And gazed upon my corse, as onA suit of cast off clothes,My widow shrieked, and fainted, butA golden vinagarette,My slayer lifted from his fob,And to her nose, he setThe bauble, while he pinched her, slappedHer hands, and brought her to,Then speaking to my mortal wreck,Said he, "Now as for you,I have avenged the slur uponMy nose, thy tweak hath wrought,Thou art the loser, in the gameOf combat, that thou sought,But lo! thy widow, will not weepIt long, for I may say,She'll shed her weeds, and she will wedWith me, the first of May!Then, with my spouse upon his arm,He turned, and sneaked away,And left me here, a widowed ghost,Aye, even to this day!"My indignation at his wrongs,I told the grateful spook:"Gramercy!" cried he, as with mistyFist, my hand he shook,And charged me thus, with eager verve,Of deep revengeful tones,"If ever thou dost meet a man,Who deals in deeds, and loans,Who bears the patronymic, andThe shield, of Mervyn Jones,I care not how, by forgery!By fist, or aye by knife!By sneaking of his fiancée,Or mayhap of his wife!By burgling of his premises,Or pelting him with stones!Avenge me, on the offspring, ofThe man, called Mervyn Jones!"I sware him, if such christened man,Did ever dare my sight,In widest open day, or fromThe nooks, of darkest night!It mattered not, if extra tall,Or what his weight, or width,I'd borrow from him, to avengeThe wrongs, of Rupert Smith!"I thank thee well!" the spectre cried,With chuckle, sad, and grim,"Adieu!"And lo! he vanished thro'The hazy gloaming dim:He vanished, and I thanked my luck,He left no aching bones!For I'm a male descendant, ofThe man, called Mervyn Jones!And Mervyn, haps my christian name,A broker, I am he,A windfall fructifaction, ofThat genealogic tree.

I tweaked him by the nose, and cried,

"Defend thyself and draw!"

Resenting my impetuous way,

The old command, to teach,

He roused him to impromptu fire,

Of indignation speech,

And with a sneer, that galled my quick,

He swore me, I must die!

But with a rough right royal oath,

I sneered him back the lie!

"Thy name?" quoth I, "I am," said he,

"A man of Deeds, and Loans,

And auction sales,

I come from Wales,

My name is Mervyn Jones!"

"What?

Mervyn Jones of Pontypridd?"

"Exactly so, the same,"

Said he,—I heard of him before,

And quivered at his name!

For 'twas the name, thro' which the world

Had come to hear of me,

By pruning blade of Smith, on Jones;

His genealogic tree,

"Yes I am Jones!"

Quoth he, "By loans,

And mortgaged, for her life,

Thro' debts to me, attorney's power,

I hold upon thy wife,

So skin thy blade, I'll give thee cause,

To tweak my nose!" he saith,

"I'll auction thee, unto the bid,

Of good old broker death!"—

Hereditary fate it seemed,

That I must fight with Jones,

I would have shirked it, but for those,

His irritating tones,

I feared a compensating fate,

Might strike an even deal,

Betwixt the house of Smith, and Jones,

But skinning forth my steel,

I smote at him, by hip, and thigh,

By carte, and aye by tierce,

I held him to his guard, with quick,

Aggressive strokes, and fierce,

But lo! the cunning of my wrist,

A moment lapsed! with art

Of subtle fencer, past my guard,

He pinked me, in the heart!

It skivered me, just like the fork,

That spoils a grilling steak,

I shivered, with a yell, and then,

A woman's cry,—and crake

Of joy from him, with mighty pang,

I leaped in air, and fell!

A muffled music thrilled my brain;

For me, the passing knell,

From numbing toe, and finger tip,

The graduating thrill

Of life's collapse, crept over me,

I wriggled, and lay still!

Then, from the chrysolid of flesh,

Light spirited I rose,

And gazed upon my corse, as on

A suit of cast off clothes,

My widow shrieked, and fainted, but

A golden vinagarette,

My slayer lifted from his fob,

And to her nose, he set

The bauble, while he pinched her, slapped

Her hands, and brought her to,

Then speaking to my mortal wreck,

Said he, "Now as for you,

I have avenged the slur upon

My nose, thy tweak hath wrought,

Thou art the loser, in the game

Of combat, that thou sought,

But lo! thy widow, will not weep

It long, for I may say,

She'll shed her weeds, and she will wed

With me, the first of May!

Then, with my spouse upon his arm,

He turned, and sneaked away,

And left me here, a widowed ghost,

Aye, even to this day!"

My indignation at his wrongs,

I told the grateful spook:

"Gramercy!" cried he, as with misty

Fist, my hand he shook,

And charged me thus, with eager verve,

Of deep revengeful tones,

"If ever thou dost meet a man,

Who deals in deeds, and loans,

Who bears the patronymic, and

The shield, of Mervyn Jones,

I care not how, by forgery!

By fist, or aye by knife!

By sneaking of his fiancée,

Or mayhap of his wife!

By burgling of his premises,

Or pelting him with stones!

Avenge me, on the offspring, of

The man, called Mervyn Jones!"

I sware him, if such christened man,

Did ever dare my sight,

In widest open day, or from

The nooks, of darkest night!

It mattered not, if extra tall,

Or what his weight, or width,

I'd borrow from him, to avenge

The wrongs, of Rupert Smith!

"I thank thee well!" the spectre cried,

With chuckle, sad, and grim,

"Adieu!"

And lo! he vanished thro'

The hazy gloaming dim:

He vanished, and I thanked my luck,

He left no aching bones!

For I'm a male descendant, of

The man, called Mervyn Jones!

And Mervyn, haps my christian name,

A broker, I am he,

A windfall fructifaction, of

That genealogic tree.

Next evening, when I told this tale,To Doctor Bolus Chuff,Incredulous, and unimpressed,With mien, erect, and tough,Presenting a prescription, forSome tonic tempered pills,Said he "Thro' too much spirits, youHave got D.T.'s and chills!"

Next evening, when I told this tale,

To Doctor Bolus Chuff,

Incredulous, and unimpressed,

With mien, erect, and tough,

Presenting a prescription, for

Some tonic tempered pills,

Said he "Thro' too much spirits, you

Have got D.T.'s and chills!"

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