 | The Ingoldsby Lyrics |  |
To Doctor Wilmot.
O Doctor! wilt thou dine with me,
And drive on Tuesday morning down!
Can ribs of beef have charms for thee—
The fat, the lean, the luscious brown?
No longer dressed in silken sheen,
Nor deck'd with rings and brooches rare,
Say, wilt thou come in velveteen,
Or corduroys that never tear?
And drive on Tuesday morning down!
Can ribs of beef have charms for thee—
The fat, the lean, the luscious brown?
No longer dressed in silken sheen,
Nor deck'd with rings and brooches rare,
Say, wilt thou come in velveteen,
Or corduroys that never tear?
O Doctor! when thou com'st away,
Wilt thou not bid John ride behind,
On pony, clad in livery gay,
To mark the birds our pointers find?
Let him a flask of darkest green
Replete with cherry brandy bear,
That we may still, our toils between,
That fascinating fluid share!
Wilt thou not bid John ride behind,
On pony, clad in livery gay,
To mark the birds our pointers find?
Let him a flask of darkest green
Replete with cherry brandy bear,
That we may still, our toils between,
That fascinating fluid share!
274
O Doctor! canst thou aim so true,
As we through briars and brambles go,
To reach the partridge brown of hue,
And lay the mounting pheasant low?
Or should by chance, it so befall
Thy path be cross'd by timid hare,
Say, wilt thou for the gamebag call,
And place the fur-clad victim there?
As we through briars and brambles go,
To reach the partridge brown of hue,
And lay the mounting pheasant low?
Or should by chance, it so befall
Thy path be cross'd by timid hare,
Say, wilt thou for the gamebag call,
And place the fur-clad victim there?
And when at last the dark'ning sky
Proclaims the hour of dinner near,
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
And quit thy sport for homely cheer?
The cloth withdrawn, removed the tray—
Say, wilt thou, snug in elbow chair,
The bottle's progress scorn to stay,
But fill the fairest of the fair?
Proclaims the hour of dinner near,
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
And quit thy sport for homely cheer?
The cloth withdrawn, removed the tray—
Say, wilt thou, snug in elbow chair,
The bottle's progress scorn to stay,
But fill the fairest of the fair?
| The Ingoldsby Lyrics | |