The Ingoldsby Legends or, Mirth and Marvels. By Thomas Ingoldsby [i.e. R. H. Barham] |
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 | The Ingoldsby Legends |  |
“The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!—
That is the place where we all wish to be,
Rolling about on it merrily!”
So all sing and say,
By night and by day,
In the boudoir, the street, at the concert, and play,
In a sort of coxcombical roundelay;
You may roam through the City, transversely or straight,
From Whitechapel turnpike to Cumberland gate,
And every young Lady who thrums a guitar,
Ev'ry mustachio'd Shopman who smokes a cigar,
With affected devotion,
Promulgates his notion,
Of being a “Rover” and “child of the Ocean”—
Whate'er their age, sex, or condition may be,
They all of them long for the “Wide, Wide Sea.”
But, however they dote,
Only set them afloat
In any craft bigger at all than a boat,
Take them down to the Nore
And you'll see that before
The “Wessel” they “Woyage” in has half made her way
Between Shell-Ness Point and the pier at Herne Bay,
Let the wind meet the tide in the slightest degree,
They'll be all of them heartily sick of “the Sea.”
That is the place where we all wish to be,
Rolling about on it merrily!”
So all sing and say,
By night and by day,
In the boudoir, the street, at the concert, and play,
In a sort of coxcombical roundelay;
You may roam through the City, transversely or straight,
From Whitechapel turnpike to Cumberland gate,
And every young Lady who thrums a guitar,
Ev'ry mustachio'd Shopman who smokes a cigar,
With affected devotion,
Promulgates his notion,
Of being a “Rover” and “child of the Ocean”—
Whate'er their age, sex, or condition may be,
They all of them long for the “Wide, Wide Sea.”
But, however they dote,
Only set them afloat
In any craft bigger at all than a boat,
320
And you'll see that before
The “Wessel” they “Woyage” in has half made her way
Between Shell-Ness Point and the pier at Herne Bay,
Let the wind meet the tide in the slightest degree,
They'll be all of them heartily sick of “the Sea.”
| The Ingoldsby Legends | |