The Ingoldsby Legends or, Mirth and Marvels. By Thomas Ingoldsby [i.e. R. H. Barham] |
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 | The Ingoldsby Legends |  |
He strikes with despatch!—his Tinder catches!—
Now, where is his candle?—and where are his matches?—
'Tis done!—they are found!—
He stands up, and looks round
By the light of a “dip” of sixteen to the pound!
—What is it that now makes his nerves to quiver?—
His hand to shake—and his limbs to shiver?—
Fear?—Pooh! it is only a touch of the liver—
All is silent—all is still—
It's “gammon”—it's “stuff!”—he may do what he will!
Carefully now he approaches the shrine,
In which, as I've mentioned before, about nine,
They had placed in such state the lamented Divine!
But not to worship—No!—No such thing!—
His aim is—to “prig” the Pastoral Ring!!
Now, where is his candle?—and where are his matches?—
'Tis done!—they are found!—
He stands up, and looks round
By the light of a “dip” of sixteen to the pound!
—What is it that now makes his nerves to quiver?—
His hand to shake—and his limbs to shiver?—
Fear?—Pooh! it is only a touch of the liver—
All is silent—all is still—
It's “gammon”—it's “stuff!”—he may do what he will!
Carefully now he approaches the shrine,
In which, as I've mentioned before, about nine,
They had placed in such state the lamented Divine!
But not to worship—No!—No such thing!—
His aim is—to “prig” the Pastoral Ring!!
| The Ingoldsby Legends | |