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The bard, and minor poems

By John Walker Ord ... Collected and edited by John Lodge
  

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 I. 
PART I. THE DEVIL AND THE POPE.
 II. 
 III. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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I. PART I. THE DEVIL AND THE POPE.

The Devil sent his compliments
Unto the Pope at Rome;
And told him, “When it isn't Lent,
I'll come and pick a bone.”
Pope Gregory this answer gave:
“Whenever you are able;
The Pope is always glad to see
The Devil at his table.”

143

The dinner hour was six o'clock,
The Devil came at five,
“Because,” he said, “he always liked
To keep the game alive.”
The courses they were various—
Broils, devils, and fried soles,
Stews, and all kinds of tortured dishes,
Eat between the poles.
The wines were of a special kind,
Under St Peter's seal;
And the Pope and Devil drank 'till all
Around began to reel.
For Popes who've neither wife nor child
To quarrel with, must drink—
And as nothing mortal dares to sit
Beside a Pope, I think—
Since they're debarred of human guests,
And men are frail, alas!
And Popes are men, they must take who
Will come and take a glass.
Therefore, if not to King nor Prince,
The Pope may do the civil,
I wonder not that he should choose
A dinner with the Devil.

144

But to our tale: the holy man
Said, “Nick, I'll give a toast!
“Conservatives of England!!—when
In holy fires they roast!”
“With loud applause!” Old Nick replied,
“And if your Holiness
Will give me leave, I'll drink another,
Devilish good, I guess.
“I'll drink it, Gregory, my boy,
Without preambulation—
Here's to O'Connell!—Dan's the child!
Dan and the Irish nation!”
“With three times three!” roared Gregory,
“Hip, hip, hurrah for Dan!”
“Hurrah, hurrah! for Darrynane!
And the Irish Beggarman!”
“Nick!” quoth the Pope, and he winked his eye,
We know a trick or two—
But, that ‘broth of a boy,’ as the Irish say,
Can beat us black and blue.
“Yes, Nicholas! your tail is your
Disgrace—nay, no offence!
But Dan's is the glory of his land,
And the Holy Church's defence.

145

“My darling Nick, I love you both;
But, pardon me—if you
Don't mind your eye, Dan's tail will leave
Your's little work to do.”
“Hiccup!” the Devil cried, “I've lent
The rascal my assistance,
And now in the race he leaves his friend,
The Devil, in the distance!”
“Nick! you've been lazy,” growled the Pope,
“The Irish should rebel,
And St Peter, out of gratitude,
Would turn the keys of ---.”
“Hush! hush!” said Nick, and touched his nose
With the point of his long tail—
“The time's not ripe, and Daniel knows
When the wind is fair to sail.
“Since you and I sate down to dinner,
Woe to the British nation!”
“What mean you, Nick? a majority
For the Irish Corporation!”
“The Bill; do you mind of the other bill,
Emancipation? ha!
Ha! ha! ha! ha! here's a cup to the blood
Of the Sassenagh! hurra!”

146

“Gregory! eighty men of Britain,
Their God and country sold!
And you and I by the Boyne shall sup,
Ere that moon be twelve months old.”
“But the Lords?” “Ay, there's the rub,” said Nick,
And he rubbed his muddled pate;
“Good night, my boy! we'll perpend of that—
Hist! 'tis the cock; how late!”
“Good night, old boy! I fear the Lords,
Old England's noble Peers,
Will send Dan, you, and I, to ---, phew!”
In a flame Nick disappears.