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The Ingoldsby Legends

or, Mirth and Marvels. By Thomas Ingoldsby [i.e. R. H. Barham]

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Miss Marie Mignot was a nice little Maid,
Her Uncle a Cook, and a Laundress her trade;
And she loved as dearly as any one can
Mister Lagardie, a nice little man.
But Oh! But Oh!
Story of woe!
A sad interloper, one Monsieur Modeau,
Ugly and old,
With plenty of gold,
Made his approach
In an elegant coach,
Her fancy was charmed with the splendour and show,
And he bore off the false-hearted Molly Mignot.
Monsieur Modeau was crazy and old,
And Monsieur Modeau caught a terrible cold,
His nose was stuffed, and his throat was sore,
He had physic by the quart and Doctors by the score.
They sent squills
And pills,
And very long bills,
And all they could do did not make him get well,
He sounded his M's and his N's like an L.

343

A shocking bad cough
At last took him off,
And Mister Lagardie her former young beau,
Came a courting again to the Widow Modeau.
Mister Lagardie, to gain him éclat,
Had cut the Cook's shop and followed the law;
And when Monsieur Modeau set out on his journey,
Was an Articled Clerk to a Special Attorney.
He gave her a call
On the day of a ball,
To which she'd invited the court, camp and all;
But “poor dear Lagardie,”
Again was too tardy,
For a Marshall of France
Had just asked her to dance;
In a twinkling, the ci-devant Madame Modeau
Was wife of the Marshall Lord Marquis Dinot.
Mister Lagardie was shocked at the news,
And went and enlisted at once in the Blues.
The Marquis Dinot
Felt a little so so—
Took physic, grew worse, and had notice to go—
He died, and was shelved, and his Lady so gay
Smiled again on Lagardie now placed on full pay,
A Swedish Field Marshall with a guinea a day;
When an old Ex-King
Just showed her the ring:
To be Queen, she conceived was a very fine thing;
But the King turned a Monk,
And Lagardie got drunk,
And said to the Lady with a deal of ill-breeding,
“You may go to the d—l and I'll go to Sweden.”

344

Thus between the two stools,
Like some other fools,
Her Ladyship found
Herself plump on the ground;
So she cried, and she stamped, and she sent for a hack,
And she drove to a convent and never came back.