 | Original poems |  |
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THE RUSTICK REVEL.
BUCK and beau, and belle and beldam,
Seems to me we dance but seldom,
Fopling spruce, and damsel taper,
All convene, and have a caper.
Seems to me we dance but seldom,
Fopling spruce, and damsel taper,
All convene, and have a caper.
Not a dance we've had this long time;
But you tell me 'tis a wrong time,
That 'twas never hotter known
Even in Africk's torrid zone.
Hot enough to melt the devil;
Sure 'tis foolish then to revel.
But you tell me 'tis a wrong time,
That 'twas never hotter known
Even in Africk's torrid zone.
Hot enough to melt the devil;
Sure 'tis foolish then to revel.
Truce with preaching; take on paper,
Names of those who grace our caper;
See what lasses we can pick up
For our famous village kick up;
Manage matters with formality,
We'll have none except the QUALITY.
Names of those who grace our caper;
See what lasses we can pick up
For our famous village kick up;
Manage matters with formality,
We'll have none except the QUALITY.
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Put us down the squire and lawyer,
Nancy Tubbs, and Betty Sawyer;
Jenny Jinks is somewhat brown,
Joe, her brother, quite a clown:
True, but this one thing I'd speak on,
Their good father is a deacon.
And, if we should leave them out,
Pious deacon would, no doubt,
Beat it into many a thick-head
That our junketing is wicked;
Make in parish deal of rumpus,
People vex'd enough to thump us.
Nancy Tubbs, and Betty Sawyer;
Jenny Jinks is somewhat brown,
Joe, her brother, quite a clown:
True, but this one thing I'd speak on,
Their good father is a deacon.
And, if we should leave them out,
Pious deacon would, no doubt,
Beat it into many a thick-head
That our junketing is wicked;
Make in parish deal of rumpus,
People vex'd enough to thump us.
Lest we have a scanty ball
Put down married folks, and all.
Peter Grievous, and his black wife,
Though they both have had the jack-knife,
Still are rich, and cut a dash,
Put them down, for they have cash.
Put down married folks, and all.
Peter Grievous, and his black wife,
Though they both have had the jack-knife,
Still are rich, and cut a dash,
Put them down, for they have cash.
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Dicky Dapper, lady's man,
Must be noted in our plan,
Though his brains won't fill a thimble,
Dicky Dapper dances nimble.
Must be noted in our plan,
Though his brains won't fill a thimble,
Dicky Dapper dances nimble.
Betty Bilbo too, the heiress,
Though her homely phiz might scare us,
Many a lad would fain get round her,
For she is a thousand pounder.
Though her homely phiz might scare us,
Many a lad would fain get round her,
For she is a thousand pounder.
Matters now adjusted right,
Let us dance this very night;
Send for Sambo with his fiddle,
Tiddle diddle, tiddle diddle.
Speak to landlord, and his lady,
Bid them make the ball room ready,
Stores of punch, of wine, and brandy,
Cake and cheese must all be handy;
Seize the moment ere it passes,
Lads send billets to your lasses;
Almost time we should begin it,
Tackle chaise in half a minute.
Polly, prettiest of a million,
Ride behind me on a pillion;
Powder'd beaus, and maccaronies,
Fops too proud to ride on ponies;
Lawyers grand, and judges bulky,
Ride with honey in a sulkey.
Let us dance this very night;
Send for Sambo with his fiddle,
Tiddle diddle, tiddle diddle.
Speak to landlord, and his lady,
Bid them make the ball room ready,
Stores of punch, of wine, and brandy,
Cake and cheese must all be handy;
Seize the moment ere it passes,
Lads send billets to your lasses;
Almost time we should begin it,
Tackle chaise in half a minute.
Polly, prettiest of a million,
Ride behind me on a pillion;
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Fops too proud to ride on ponies;
Lawyers grand, and judges bulky,
Ride with honey in a sulkey.
Now assembled at the hall,
Let us caper, one and all;
Squire, to top, I wish you'd trudge up,
Call a dance to ope the fudge up.
Lads and lasses take your places;
Holo, fiddler! play the “Graces!”
Right and left, chassé at top—
Wrong below there, stop! stop! stop!
Balance Dick, then down the middle,
Deuce is in that fellow's fiddle,
Sure Miss Airy dances topping,
Lighter than a cricket hopping;
Sally Squad, as round as pumpkin,
Capers cuts with Benny Bumpkin;
Balance Joe, to Lucy Wiggle,
Pho! you're wrong, all higgle-piggle!
Now you're right, and keep it going:
Tim, you dance like man a mowing,
Graceless as a colt a prancing,
Can't you stand up when your dancing?
Sammy Snider trots like thunder,
Sure he'll split the floor asunder:
See his partner pull and haul him,
Out of patience, I could maul him!
Well, the fam'd Egyptian camel
Dances mach like our friend Sam'el!
Let us caper, one and all;
Squire, to top, I wish you'd trudge up,
Call a dance to ope the fudge up.
Lads and lasses take your places;
Holo, fiddler! play the “Graces!”
Right and left, chassé at top—
Wrong below there, stop! stop! stop!
Balance Dick, then down the middle,
Deuce is in that fellow's fiddle,
Sure Miss Airy dances topping,
Lighter than a cricket hopping;
Sally Squad, as round as pumpkin,
Capers cuts with Benny Bumpkin;
Balance Joe, to Lucy Wiggle,
Pho! you're wrong, all higgle-piggle!
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Tim, you dance like man a mowing,
Graceless as a colt a prancing,
Can't you stand up when your dancing?
Sammy Snider trots like thunder,
Sure he'll split the floor asunder:
See his partner pull and haul him,
Out of patience, I could maul him!
Well, the fam'd Egyptian camel
Dances mach like our friend Sam'el!
Now to aide-board let us hie,
Ne'er be bashful when you're dry;
Give each buxom, rosy maid,
Brimming glass of lemonade;
Help yourself to wine and porter,
Sit by lass, and strive to court her;
Sit and chat with amorous billing,
Rapture every bosom thrilling,
Eyes that dart electrick flashes,
“Hot hearts” almost burnt to ashes!
Ne'er be bashful when you're dry;
Give each buxom, rosy maid,
Brimming glass of lemonade;
Help yourself to wine and porter,
Sit by lass, and strive to court her;
Sit and chat with amorous billing,
Rapture every bosom thrilling,
Eyes that dart electrick flashes,
“Hot hearts” almost burnt to ashes!
Never will I tell you lies, man,
But suppose some heathen wise man,
Most unfeeling wight in nature,
Even Zeno were spectator,
Stoick sure would swear meherc'le
'Tis a most seraphick circle!
But suppose some heathen wise man,
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Even Zeno were spectator,
Stoick sure would swear meherc'le
'Tis a most seraphick circle!
Fill once more your cheerful glasses,
Drink a health to all sweet lasses,
Drink and frolick time away,
None so happy, none so gay,
Till, at length, the bill is bawl'd for,
And, alas! our money call'd for!
Drink a health to all sweet lasses,
Drink and frolick time away,
None so happy, none so gay,
Till, at length, the bill is bawl'd for,
And, alas! our money call'd for!
Yonder manager, by beckoning,
Seems to say, “come pay your reckoning;”
Murky phiz, and shrug of silence,
Speak a wish to be a mile hence!
Dick, who says he came away
Purse forgot, and cannot pay,
Tells the landlord how to cook it,
Whispers “thank you, sir, to book it!”
Fiddler, play us one tune more,
Just to end with reel of four,
Ralphy Rattle, spunky fellow,
Raking round till he is mellow,
Rudely muttering and swearing,
Seems to lack a little airing.
Seems to say, “come pay your reckoning;”
Murky phiz, and shrug of silence,
Speak a wish to be a mile hence!
Dick, who says he came away
Purse forgot, and cannot pay,
Tells the landlord how to cook it,
Whispers “thank you, sir, to book it!”
Fiddler, play us one tune more,
Just to end with reel of four,
Ralphy Rattle, spunky fellow,
Raking round till he is mellow,
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Seems to lack a little airing.
Misses, squires, and gentlefolks,
Call for Nabobs, hats, and cloaks;
True, 'tis late, but that's no matter,
All good night, 'tis time to scatter.
Call for Nabobs, hats, and cloaks;
True, 'tis late, but that's no matter,
All good night, 'tis time to scatter.
Come, my dear, and mount behind me,
Lover true you'll ever find me.
Stir up Dobbin Well, my dearest,
Uncle Jotham's road is nearest;
Now by fence we safely land,
Now we walk in, hand in hand.
Lover true you'll ever find me.
Stir up Dobbin Well, my dearest,
Uncle Jotham's road is nearest;
Now by fence we safely land,
Now we walk in, hand in hand.
Sit awhile in social chat—
Pray what follow'd after that?
Toy and prattle, sir, awhile,
Right New England courting style,
But you'll please to make the best on't,
I'm not bound to tell the rest on't.
Pray what follow'd after that?
Toy and prattle, sir, awhile,
Right New England courting style,
But you'll please to make the best on't,
I'm not bound to tell the rest on't.
| Original poems | |