 | Lost Bab ballads |  |
Next day, when Nurse Amelia called,
To wash and dress her Archibald,
She opened both her aged eyes
With unmistakable surprise,
To find that Archie, in the night
Had turned all red, and blue, and white,
Of healthy colour, not a trace—
Red patches on his little face,
Black horsehair wig, round rolling eyes,
Short trowsers, of prodigious size,
White legs and arms, with spots of blue,
And spots upon his body, too!
Said she, “Why, what is this, my boy?
My gentle Archibald Molloy!
Your good papa I'll go and tell,
You must be dreadfully unwell,
Although I know of no disease
With any symptoms such as these.”
To wash and dress her Archibald,
She opened both her aged eyes
With unmistakable surprise,
To find that Archie, in the night
Had turned all red, and blue, and white,
Of healthy colour, not a trace—
Red patches on his little face,
Black horsehair wig, round rolling eyes,
Short trowsers, of prodigious size,
White legs and arms, with spots of blue,
And spots upon his body, too!
Said she, “Why, what is this, my boy?
My gentle Archibald Molloy!
Your good papa I'll go and tell,
You must be dreadfully unwell,
Although I know of no disease
With any symptoms such as these.”
The good old lady turned to go
And fetch his good papa, when lo!
With irresistible attack
He jumped upon her aged back,
Pulled off the poor old lady's front,
And thrashed her, while she tried to grunt,
“Oh, Archibald, what have you done?
Is this your mild, respectful fun,
You bad, ungentlemanly boy?
Fie on you, Archibald Molloy!”
Some dreadful power, unseen but near,
Still urged on his wild career,
And made him burn, and steal, and kill,
Against his gentlemanly will.
The change had really turned his brain;
He boiled his little sister Jane;
He painted blue his aged mother;
Sat down upon his little brother;
Tripped up his cousins with his hoop;
Put pussy in his father's soup;
Placed beetles in his uncle's shoe;
Cut a policeman right in two;
Spread devastation round—and, ah,
He red-hot-pokered his papa!
And fetch his good papa, when lo!
With irresistible attack
He jumped upon her aged back,
80
And thrashed her, while she tried to grunt,
“Oh, Archibald, what have you done?
Is this your mild, respectful fun,
You bad, ungentlemanly boy?
Fie on you, Archibald Molloy!”
Some dreadful power, unseen but near,
Still urged on his wild career,
And made him burn, and steal, and kill,
Against his gentlemanly will.
The change had really turned his brain;
He boiled his little sister Jane;
He painted blue his aged mother;
Sat down upon his little brother;
Tripped up his cousins with his hoop;
Put pussy in his father's soup;
Placed beetles in his uncle's shoe;
Cut a policeman right in two;
Spread devastation round—and, ah,
He red-hot-pokered his papa!
Be sure, this highly reckless course
Brought Archibald sincere remorse;
He liked a joke, and loved a laugh,
But was too well-behaved by half—
With too much justice and good sense—
To laugh at other folk's expense.
The gentle boy could never sleep,
But used to lie awake and weep,
To think of all the ill he'd done.
“Is this,” said he, “respectful fun?
Oh, fairy, fairy, I would fain
That you should change me back again;
Some dreadful power I can't resist
Directs my once respected fist;
Change, and I'll never once complain,
Or wish to be a clown again!”
Brought Archibald sincere remorse;
He liked a joke, and loved a laugh,
But was too well-behaved by half—
With too much justice and good sense—
To laugh at other folk's expense.
The gentle boy could never sleep,
But used to lie awake and weep,
To think of all the ill he'd done.
“Is this,” said he, “respectful fun?
Oh, fairy, fairy, I would fain
That you should change me back again;
81
Directs my once respected fist;
Change, and I'll never once complain,
Or wish to be a clown again!”
He spoke, and lo! the wretched boy
Once more was Archibald Molloy;
He gave a wild, delighted scream,
And woke—for, lo, it was a dream!
Once more was Archibald Molloy;
He gave a wild, delighted scream,
And woke—for, lo, it was a dream!
| Lost Bab ballads | |