The Works of John Hall-Stevenson :: :: University of Virginia Library

A village Burgher was Ralph Crop,
A Grocer without guile or malice;
The master of the grocer's shop,
And of Ralph Crop, was Mistress Alice.
When Alice was engaged, her damsel Kate,
When Ralph her spouse was absent too,
Did quite as well, for she could sell and prate,
Better, perhaps, than Crop could do.
Crop was just gone to the market-town,
And all the world was there—'twas the Fair-day—

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To buy his wife a cap and gown,
To shew his taste, and make her shew away.
All the world knows, that certain glances
Interpret certain women's fancies.
The Exciseman was a fine observer,
And saw from Alice's black eyes,
That all the world could not preserve her
From being taken by surprise.
Treading the shop, he cast the dye,
He pass'd the Rubicon, and met her;
And in the twinkling of an eye,
Carried his point, and overset her.
He pass'd the Rubicon, it means in verse,
He was not bashful for her looking fierce:
At the first onset, Myles averr'd,
He took the Lion by the beard.
For Hercules, without a scratch or rub,
Taking possession of that feature,
With his great club,
Terrified and subdued the creature.

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Myles having conquer'd her disdain
(Alice and Myles were in their prime)
They did not spend their hours in vain,
But made the properest use of time.
Ralph was returning with her fairing,
And at the door, just after pairing.
Neither suspecting any harm,
Behold, Crop enters with his riches,
A gown and cap under his arm,
As Myles was pulling up his breeches.—
“I am glad you left the fair so soon,”
His wife cried out—“the Exciseman there,
Whipt in just now, this afternoon,
Stark staring mad as a March hare.
Had he not known you by your blowing,
Had not he heard you at the door,
That very moment he was going
To s---t upon the parlour floor;
And swore, that if I call'd or stir'd,
The brute would make me eat his—merde.”
“What did you mean,” said Crop, “by this?”
“Nothing at all,” said Myles, “amiss.”

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Behold, said one, that shall be nameless,
Before her window, Mistress Blameless;
Poor soul, she looks quite melancholy.
Try, Myles, some heads were made for horns.
To try, said I, would be a monstrous folly,
Try to lick honey off the thorns;
Even suppose what cannot be supposed,
I would not wrong a friend, so well disposed;
I'll put as hard a case, I think,
A rump and dozen—let us wager,
I'll make no love, but make a stink,
Shall cure her vapours, I'll engage her.
Mind; I'll untruss down to the feet,
And do my n---s before her face,
Plump on the floor; and for my treat,
She shall be thankful and say grace.
If you had not stept in between,
I should have won the wager clean,
Nothing amiss was meant, I knew,
My friend here lov'd a harmless joke;
The thought was comical and new,
'Twould make him laugh ready to choak.”

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“Marry come up, my dirty Cousin,”
Said Alice, “with your rump and dozen;
Laugh! laugh at what, you filthy beast?
If he had laugh'd at such a thing,
I would have made both his ears ring
For one whole fortnight at the least.
Go, pay the wager you have lost;”
“I'm glad,” said Crop, “that he was taken in,
A rump and dozen's no small cost,
And as to laughing, let them laugh that win.”

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MORAL.

“A case in point,” said sly Sir John,
“To prove two heads better than one.
One gives a hint, and only moves it,
The second takes it, and improves it.”
“I grant your maxim,” said his Dame,
“If both their interests are the same.”
The Baron cried, “the Moral's fine,
I smoke two rogues, and one design.
I see two rogues together pull,
Two patriots set out together,
In dirty roads and in foul weather,
To make a fool of poor John Bull.”