 | The Ingoldsby Lyrics |  |
To Doctor Hume.
St. P. C. Y., November 4, 1837.
Doctor dear! the Queen's a-coming!
All this ancient city round,
Scarce a place to squeeze one's thumb in,
High or low, can now be found;
All this ancient city round,
Scarce a place to squeeze one's thumb in,
High or low, can now be found;
So my spouse—you'll hardly thank her—
Thus in substance bids me say:
“Bring your sweet self to an anchor,
Doctor dear, with us that day!”
Thus in substance bids me say:
“Bring your sweet self to an anchor,
Doctor dear, with us that day!”
287
If no haunch your palate tickles,
If no turtle greet your eye,
There'll be cold roast beef and pickles,
Ox-tail soup, and pigeon-pie.
If no turtle greet your eye,
There'll be cold roast beef and pickles,
Ox-tail soup, and pigeon-pie.
Fear not then the knaves who fleece men—
Johnny Raws, and country muffs!
There'll be lots of new policemen
To control the rogues and roughs.
Johnny Raws, and country muffs!
There'll be lots of new policemen
To control the rogues and roughs.
Doctor, darling! think how grand is
Such a sight! the great Lord May'r,
Heading all the city dandies,
There on horseback takes the air!
Such a sight! the great Lord May'r,
Heading all the city dandies,
There on horseback takes the air!
Chains and maces all attend, he
Rides all glorious to be seen;
“Lad o' wax!” great heaven forfend he
Don't get spilt before the Queen!
Rides all glorious to be seen;
“Lad o' wax!” great heaven forfend he
Don't get spilt before the Queen!
Blue-coat boys with classic speeches—
From our windows you shall view
Their yellow stockings, yellow breeches,
And “long togs” of deepest blue.
From our windows you shall view
Their yellow stockings, yellow breeches,
And “long togs” of deepest blue.
Here the cutlers,—there the nailers,
Here the barber-surgeons stand,—
Goldsmiths here—there merchant tailors,
And in front the Coldstream Band!
Here the barber-surgeons stand,—
Goldsmiths here—there merchant tailors,
And in front the Coldstream Band!
288
Gas-lights, links, and flambeaux blazing,
These will shame the noon-tide ray;
“Night!—pooh!—stuff! 'tis quite amazing!
Why 'tis brighter far than day!”
These will shame the noon-tide ray;
“Night!—pooh!—stuff! 'tis quite amazing!
Why 'tis brighter far than day!”
But a scene so brilliant mocks all
Power its beauties to declare;
Once beheld, poor Gye of Vauxhall
Hangs himself in deep despair!
Power its beauties to declare;
Once beheld, poor Gye of Vauxhall
Hangs himself in deep despair!
Come then, Doctor, quit your shrubbery,
Cock your castor o'er your ear;
Come and gaze, and taste the grubbery,
Ah, now join us, Doctor dear!
Cock your castor o'er your ear;
Come and gaze, and taste the grubbery,
Ah, now join us, Doctor dear!
R. H. B.
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