R---y---l Stripes Or A Kick from Yar---h to Wa---s; With the Particulars of an Expedition to Oat---ds, and the Sprained Ancle: A Poem. By P--- P--- [i.e. George Daniel] |
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 | R---y---l Stripes |  |
The morn was bright, the Pr---e was gay,
His prancing steeds began to neigh,
Joy seem'd to usher in the day,
(From such another Heav'n forfend us!)
His royal guards, a goodly band,
Sat ready mounted sword in hand,
The pride and glory of our land,
A sight to British eyes tremendous.
His prancing steeds began to neigh,
Joy seem'd to usher in the day,
(From such another Heav'n forfend us!)
His royal guards, a goodly band,
Sat ready mounted sword in hand,
The pride and glory of our land,
A sight to British eyes tremendous.
His H---ess in a chariot bright
Loll'd, with M`M---n on his right,
A soldier, and a warlike wight,
And on his left, the Chief Ge---mb,—
A German warrior stout and grim,
Of aspect savage, huge of limb,
Munchausen was a dwarf to him,
And Mars, great god of war, a lamb.
Loll'd, with M`M---n on his right,
A soldier, and a warlike wight,
And on his left, the Chief Ge---mb,—
A German warrior stout and grim,
Of aspect savage, huge of limb,
Munchausen was a dwarf to him,
And Mars, great god of war, a lamb.
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“Long live the P---e!” was echo'd wide,
“Britannia's hope—Britannia's pride—
Long live the fav'rite of the people!”
The windows throng'd, all burn'd to see,
Not the church cornices were free,
And some were mounted on the steeple.
“Britannia's hope—Britannia's pride—
Long live the fav'rite of the people!”
The windows throng'd, all burn'd to see,
Not the church cornices were free,
And some were mounted on the steeple.
Ten thousand 'kerchiefs wav'd on high,
Ten thousand voices shook the sky,
Butchers with marrowbones and cleavers;
Fifes, fiddles, hautboys, drums, and trumpets,
Maids, widows, wives, and loyal strumpets,
Jews, infidels, and true believers.
Ten thousand voices shook the sky,
Butchers with marrowbones and cleavers;
Fifes, fiddles, hautboys, drums, and trumpets,
Maids, widows, wives, and loyal strumpets,
Jews, infidels, and true believers.
From ev'ry quarter folks were thronging,
To see their P---e each subject longing,
(For British jaws are fond of gaping;)
Some play'd a tuneful hurdy-gurdy,
While loyal pickpockets so sturdy,
Among the happy croud were 'scaping.
To see their P---e each subject longing,
(For British jaws are fond of gaping;)
Some play'd a tuneful hurdy-gurdy,
While loyal pickpockets so sturdy,
Among the happy croud were 'scaping.
To Oa---ds all in grand array,
The long procession drove away,
And left the staring fools behind 'em;
Some lost their purses, watches, rings,
With half a hundred different things,
And much they marvell'd where to find'em.
The long procession drove away,
And left the staring fools behind 'em;
Some lost their purses, watches, rings,
With half a hundred different things,
And much they marvell'd where to find'em.
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And here a moral I might pen,
Did it not savour of pomposity,—
Beware, ye thoughtless sons of men,
How you indulge, and where, and when,
That idle dæmon, Curiosity.
Did it not savour of pomposity,—
Beware, ye thoughtless sons of men,
How you indulge, and where, and when,
That idle dæmon, Curiosity.
For if—but truce to dull digression—
So now to follow the procession,—
The P---e laugh'd loudly at their whim,
And thought the folks as dull as stones,
To risk their cash, and precious bones,
Merely to have a peep at him
So now to follow the procession,—
The P---e laugh'd loudly at their whim,
And thought the folks as dull as stones,
To risk their cash, and precious bones,
Merely to have a peep at him
“For what is R---y---l---y?” he cried,—
“The star that glitters at my side,
“At best, is but a badge of pride,
A childish toy---a lady's trinket;”
Thus did his H---ess sit and muse,
For P---es (whom the world abuse)
Can all be moral when they chuse,
Though many people scarce can think it.
“The star that glitters at my side,
“At best, is but a badge of pride,
A childish toy---a lady's trinket;”
Thus did his H---ess sit and muse,
For P---es (whom the world abuse)
Can all be moral when they chuse,
Though many people scarce can think it.
“But Colonel, since my spirits fail,
“I pr'ythee read to me a tale,
“All dull unpleasant thoughts to hinder,
“Writ by the bard who makes me smile,
“And wisely imitates the style
“Of that droll mortal Peter Pindar.”
“I pr'ythee read to me a tale,
“All dull unpleasant thoughts to hinder,
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“And wisely imitates the style
“Of that droll mortal Peter Pindar.”
| R---y---l Stripes | |