 | Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 |  |
124
“THE MAGPIE” TO “THE MAID.”
The magpie begs to tell the maid,
She's set his heart a-throbbing,
For in the picture he's afraid
He sees a little robin(g).
She's set his heart a-throbbing,
For in the picture he's afraid
He sees a little robin(g).
And oh! if so, mistake he can't
The floral indication;
It certainly must be some “plant”
For this old thief's temptation.
The floral indication;
It certainly must be some “plant”
For this old thief's temptation.
Annette! Annette! Annette! For shame!
Have you no human feeling?
Would you of this old bird make game,
Or catch him once more stealing?
Have you no human feeling?
Would you of this old bird make game,
Or catch him once more stealing?
You know his pilfering of old
Into much trouble brought you;
And now a little heart of gold
You show him! really, ought you?
Into much trouble brought you;
And now a little heart of gold
You show him! really, ought you?
125
Cruel! you know that at my age
I cannot quit my perch,
To steal that heart, and from my cage
Fly with it to the church!
I cannot quit my perch,
To steal that heart, and from my cage
Fly with it to the church!
“I would I were a bird,” my love,
More fit to go a-wooing;
I'd seek you like “the travelled dove,”
And try my luck at cooing.
More fit to go a-wooing;
I'd seek you like “the travelled dove,”
And try my luck at cooing.
But as it is, 'tis much too bad
To tempt me such a “swag” by;
You're only driving raven mad
A poor old chattering magpie!
To tempt me such a “swag” by;
You're only driving raven mad
A poor old chattering magpie!
I'm always dull on Christmas day,
It lets a flood of ills in,
For that's the time those birds of prey
Bring all their horrid bills in!
It lets a flood of ills in,
For that's the time those birds of prey
Bring all their horrid bills in!
So pardon if the rhymes I write
Seem rather void of reason;
I cannot take a higher flight,
But in my colours—black and white—
Wish you, with all my heart and might,
The compliments of the season!
Seem rather void of reason;
I cannot take a higher flight,
But in my colours—black and white—
Wish you, with all my heart and might,
The compliments of the season!
Bird Cage Walk, St. James's,
December, 25th, 1867.
| Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 | |