Cricket Songs and other trifling verses penned by one of the Authors of "Thistledown." [i.e. by N. R. Gale] |
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THOSE DEAR OLD DAYS OF YORE! |
 | Cricket Songs |  |
30
THOSE DEAR OLD DAYS OF YORE!
With love and lays in ancient days
(At least so writers swear)
The doughty Knight in armour bright
Approached the Lady fair;
And sure enough in dungeon rough
A whiskered Baron slipped her,
Brandished a knife and threatened life,
Or mercilessly whipped her!
(At least so writers swear)
The doughty Knight in armour bright
Approached the Lady fair;
And sure enough in dungeon rough
A whiskered Baron slipped her,
Brandished a knife and threatened life,
Or mercilessly whipped her!
The doughty Knight in armour bright
Would blow a brazen bugle
As loudly snored the watchful ward
Denominated Dougal;
This guard would in with horrid din
To rouse his drunken master,
Who'd swear and rave, and call him “knave,”
And make him exit faster.
Would blow a brazen bugle
As loudly snored the watchful ward
Denominated Dougal;
This guard would in with horrid din
To rouse his drunken master,
Who'd swear and rave, and call him “knave,”
And make him exit faster.
31
With ponderous whacks of battle-axe
The Knight would then assail,
Early and late, the Postern Gate
And hail blows in the hail.
The Baron bold would curse and scold,
And topple in the moat
A man or two and quite pooh-pooh
The gurgle in each throat!
The Knight would then assail,
Early and late, the Postern Gate
And hail blows in the hail.
The Baron bold would curse and scold,
And topple in the moat
A man or two and quite pooh-pooh
The gurgle in each throat!
The doughty Knight in armour bright
Would now, without a doubt,
Mid fusillade break barricade
And put his foes to rout;
But logs o'erwhelm his crested helm
And many burly beams,
While loudly swell from dungeon cell
The baited maiden's screams.
Would now, without a doubt,
Mid fusillade break barricade
And put his foes to rout;
But logs o'erwhelm his crested helm
And many burly beams,
While loudly swell from dungeon cell
The baited maiden's screams.
About this time would rise the whine
Of some imprisoned Jew
Who'd not exhume the broad doubloon
Though made into a stew.
The Baron bold required the gold,
And far from feeling ruth,
The Jew would boil in linseed oil,
Or draw the daily tooth!
Of some imprisoned Jew
Who'd not exhume the broad doubloon
Though made into a stew.
The Baron bold required the gold,
And far from feeling ruth,
The Jew would boil in linseed oil,
Or draw the daily tooth!
32
Then from a tow'r of mighty pow'r
The Baron bold would bawl:—
“Now, what the deuce? Sir Knight, a truce
Till we can try a fall!”
Next on green plot with head in pot,
And trousers made of steel,
With iron waistcoats very hot
And rakes on either heel
The Baron bold would bawl:—
“Now, what the deuce? Sir Knight, a truce
Till we can try a fall!”
Next on green plot with head in pot,
And trousers made of steel,
With iron waistcoats very hot
And rakes on either heel
The Baron hight and noble Knight
Ride animals peculiar;
Encased in tin or some such thing
Each calls upon his Julia!
They bless their souls, take two long poles,
And take a lengthy oath;
Then caracol upon the whole
Prodigi-ously wroth.
Ride animals peculiar;
Encased in tin or some such thing
Each calls upon his Julia!
They bless their souls, take two long poles,
And take a lengthy oath;
Then caracol upon the whole
Prodigi-ously wroth.
Then some tin lump with horny trump
Would canter forth, and say
The Baron bold was very old
In ev'ry wicked way!
An ogre he continually
As his Lord would attest
By purpose pure and falchion sure
And good lance laid in rest.
Would canter forth, and say
The Baron bold was very old
In ev'ry wicked way!
An ogre he continually
As his Lord would attest
By purpose pure and falchion sure
And good lance laid in rest.
33
Then some fresh lump with horny trump
Would shamble forth, and vow
To earth and sky that such a lie
Was never heard till now!
The challenger was foulest cur,
Item, he was a knave,
Item, he'd soon receive his doom,
And rot in unknown grave!
Would shamble forth, and vow
To earth and sky that such a lie
Was never heard till now!
The challenger was foulest cur,
Item, he was a knave,
Item, he'd soon receive his doom,
And rot in unknown grave!
With fearful thump and sounding bump
The Baron and the Knight
Would fall, of course, from off each horse
While ladies felt no fright:
They'd hew and cut, would swear and strut,
And hammer at the head
Till down would drop the Baron, flop,
Effectually dead!
The Baron and the Knight
Would fall, of course, from off each horse
While ladies felt no fright:
They'd hew and cut, would swear and strut,
And hammer at the head
Till down would drop the Baron, flop,
Effectually dead!
The baited belle from dungeon cell
Next rushes to the lists
With marks of flags upon her rags
And cuffs upon her wrists!
“O doughty Knight in armour bright
I'll never wed another!”
The Heralds flock, and soon unlock
Her twenty-second brother!
Next rushes to the lists
With marks of flags upon her rags
And cuffs upon her wrists!
“O doughty Knight in armour bright
I'll never wed another!”
The Heralds flock, and soon unlock
Her twenty-second brother!
34
And then the Knight in armour bright
Would froth in foaming rage,
And at each stride from side to side
Decapitate a Page!
“The Baron's blows have broke my nose,
In pain from boot to beaver
I find the spoil for all my toil
A sisterly deceiver!”
Would froth in foaming rage,
And at each stride from side to side
Decapitate a Page!
“The Baron's blows have broke my nose,
In pain from boot to beaver
I find the spoil for all my toil
A sisterly deceiver!”
Then, Reader, read and take good heed,
And inwardly digest
This pretty page of bygone age
So vividly expressed!
For goodness sake make no mistake,
But loathe that time of gore,
And show this lay to those who pray
For dear old days of yore!
And inwardly digest
This pretty page of bygone age
So vividly expressed!
For goodness sake make no mistake,
But loathe that time of gore,
And show this lay to those who pray
For dear old days of yore!
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