The Poems of John Byrom Edited by Adolphus William Ward |
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 | The Poems of John Byrom |  |
193
THE NIMMERS.
Two Foot-companions once in deep Discourse,—
“Tom,” says the one, “let's go and steal a Horse!”
“Steal!” says the other, in a huge surprise,
“He that says I'm a Thief, I say he lies.”
“Well, well,” replied his Friend, “no such affront;
I did but ask ye: if you won't, you won't.”
So they jogg'd on, till, in another Strain,
The Querist mov'd to honest Tom again.
“Suppose,” says he, “for Supposition's sake,—
'Tis but a Supposition that I make,—
Suppose that we should filch a Horse, I say?”
“Filch! Filch!” quoth Tom, demurring by the Way;
“That's not so bad as downright Theft, I own;
But—yet—methinks—'twere better let alone.
It soundeth something pitiful, and low;
Shall we go filch a Horse, you say? why, no;
I'll filch no filching; and I'll tell no lie;
Honesty's the best Policy, say I.”
“Tom,” says the one, “let's go and steal a Horse!”
“Steal!” says the other, in a huge surprise,
“He that says I'm a Thief, I say he lies.”
“Well, well,” replied his Friend, “no such affront;
I did but ask ye: if you won't, you won't.”
So they jogg'd on, till, in another Strain,
The Querist mov'd to honest Tom again.
194
'Tis but a Supposition that I make,—
Suppose that we should filch a Horse, I say?”
“Filch! Filch!” quoth Tom, demurring by the Way;
“That's not so bad as downright Theft, I own;
But—yet—methinks—'twere better let alone.
It soundeth something pitiful, and low;
Shall we go filch a Horse, you say? why, no;
I'll filch no filching; and I'll tell no lie;
Honesty's the best Policy, say I.”
Struck with such vast Integrity quite dumb,
His Comrade paus'd; at last, says he: “Come, come!
Thou art an honest Fellow, I agree,—
Honest and poor; alas! that should not be,
And dry into the Bargain, and no Drink!
Shall we go Nim a Horse, Tom?—What dost think?”
His Comrade paus'd; at last, says he: “Come, come!
Thou art an honest Fellow, I agree,—
Honest and poor; alas! that should not be,
And dry into the Bargain, and no Drink!
Shall we go Nim a Horse, Tom?—What dost think?”
How clear Things are when Liquor's in the Case!
Tom answers quick, with casuistic Grace:
“Nim? yes, yes, yes, lets Nim with all my Heart;
I see no harm in Nimming, for my Part.
Hard is the Case, now I look sharp into't,
That Honesty should trudge i'th' Dirt afoot;
So many empty Horses round about,
That Honesty should wear its Bottoms out!
Besides, shall Honesty be chok'd with Thirst?
Were it my Lord Mayor's Horse, I'd nim it first!
And, by the by, my Lad, no scrubby Tit!
There is the best that ever wore a Bit
Not far from hence.” “I take ye,” quoth his Friend,
“Is not yon Stable, Tom, our Journey's End?”
Tom answers quick, with casuistic Grace:
“Nim? yes, yes, yes, lets Nim with all my Heart;
I see no harm in Nimming, for my Part.
Hard is the Case, now I look sharp into't,
That Honesty should trudge i'th' Dirt afoot;
So many empty Horses round about,
That Honesty should wear its Bottoms out!
Besides, shall Honesty be chok'd with Thirst?
Were it my Lord Mayor's Horse, I'd nim it first!
195
There is the best that ever wore a Bit
Not far from hence.” “I take ye,” quoth his Friend,
“Is not yon Stable, Tom, our Journey's End?”
Good Wits will jump: both meant the very Steed,
The Top o'th' Country, both for Shape and Speed.
So to't they went, and, with an Halter round
His feather'd Neck, they nimm'd him off the Ground.
The Top o'th' Country, both for Shape and Speed.
So to't they went, and, with an Halter round
His feather'd Neck, they nimm'd him off the Ground.
And now, good People, we should next relate
Of these Adventurers the luckless Fate.
Poor Tom!—but here the Sequel is to seek,
Not being yet translated from the Greek.
Some say, that Tom would honestly have peacht,
But by his blabbing Friend was over-reacht;
Others insist upon't, that both the Elves
Were, in like Manner, halter-nimm'd themselves.
Of these Adventurers the luckless Fate.
Poor Tom!—but here the Sequel is to seek,
Not being yet translated from the Greek.
Some say, that Tom would honestly have peacht,
But by his blabbing Friend was over-reacht;
Others insist upon't, that both the Elves
Were, in like Manner, halter-nimm'd themselves.
It matters not:—the Moral is the Thing,
For which our purpose, Neighbours, was to sing.
If it should hit some few amongst the Throng,
Let 'em not lay the Fault upon the Song!
Fair warning, all: He that has got a Cap,
Now put it on, or else beware a Rap!
'Tis but a short one, it is true, but yet
Has a long reach with it, Videlicet:
'Twixt right and wrong, how many gentle Trimmers
Will neither steal nor filch, but will be plaguy Nimmers.
For which our purpose, Neighbours, was to sing.
If it should hit some few amongst the Throng,
Let 'em not lay the Fault upon the Song!
Fair warning, all: He that has got a Cap,
Now put it on, or else beware a Rap!
'Tis but a short one, it is true, but yet
Has a long reach with it, Videlicet:
'Twixt right and wrong, how many gentle Trimmers
Will neither steal nor filch, but will be plaguy Nimmers.
| The Poems of John Byrom | |