 | The Ingoldsby Lyrics |  |
To the Garrick Club.
Clifton, May, 1845.
Ye shepherds give ear to my lay,
Who have nothing to do about sheep,
While, as Shenstone, the poet, would say,—
I have nothing to do but to weep.
Who have nothing to do about sheep,
While, as Shenstone, the poet, would say,—
I have nothing to do but to weep.
For here I sit all the day long,
And must do so, I dare say, all June,
While so far from singing a song,
I can't even whistle a tune.
And must do so, I dare say, all June,
While so far from singing a song,
I can't even whistle a tune.
For the probang, the blister, and leech,
So completely my notes have o'erthrown,
When I try the sweet music of speech,
I start at the sound of my own.
So completely my notes have o'erthrown,
When I try the sweet music of speech,
I start at the sound of my own.
293
It's useless attempting to speak,
For my voice is beyond my control;
If high, it's an ear-piercing squeak,
If low, it's a grunt or a growl!
For my voice is beyond my control;
If high, it's an ear-piercing squeak,
If low, it's a grunt or a growl!
Can Clifton those beauties assume,
Which patients have found in her face,
When shut up all day in a room,
One can't get a peep at the place?
Which patients have found in her face,
When shut up all day in a room,
One can't get a peep at the place?
Ye Garrickers, making your sport,
As ye revel in gossip and grub,
Oh! send some endearing report
Of how matters go on at the Club.
As ye revel in gossip and grub,
Oh! send some endearing report
Of how matters go on at the Club.
When I think on the rapid mail train,
In a moment I seem to be there,
But the sight of N.E. on the vane
Soon hurries me back to despair.
In a moment I seem to be there,
But the sight of N.E. on the vane
Soon hurries me back to despair.
The Committee, O say do they send
A blessing—or ban—after me?
Mr. Gwilt, does he duly attend
To his salad and little roti?
A blessing—or ban—after me?
Mr. Gwilt, does he duly attend
To his salad and little roti?
Davy Roberts, that glorious R. A.,
Does he still smoke his hookha in peace?
Is Millingen there every day?
Is Mills a trustee to the lease?
Does he still smoke his hookha in peace?
Is Millingen there every day?
Is Mills a trustee to the lease?
294
Does the claret suit Thornton? and how
Does Lord Tenterden like the cigars?
Has anyone yet in a row
Kicked impudent --- downstairs?
Does Lord Tenterden like the cigars?
Has anyone yet in a row
Kicked impudent --- downstairs?
For methought that a sweet little bird
In my ear of its likelihood sung,
And I loved it the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from its tongue.
In my ear of its likelihood sung,
And I loved it the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from its tongue.
O, say is the story a hoax,
Or one to be classed among fibs,
That Murphy's upset with his jokes
Colonel Sibthorpe, and broken his ribs?
Or one to be classed among fibs,
That Murphy's upset with his jokes
Colonel Sibthorpe, and broken his ribs?
Has Durant got rid of his cough?
Are Sav'ry's rheumatics quite gone?
And how do the dinners go off,
And how does the ballot go on?
Are Sav'ry's rheumatics quite gone?
And how do the dinners go off,
And how does the ballot go on?
Does Stanhope's good humour endure?
What are White and Sir Henry about?
Is Talfourd gone up to his tour,
Or Arden gone down to his trout?
What are White and Sir Henry about?
Is Talfourd gone up to his tour,
Or Arden gone down to his trout?
Does Calcraft, who saved us from blazing,
Still watch o'er our int'rests at night?
Does Ovey still drive up his chaise in?
Is Rainy as ever polite?
Still watch o'er our int'rests at night?
Does Ovey still drive up his chaise in?
Is Rainy as ever polite?
295
Charles Kemble, his nose is it aching
As yet from his fall, or got well?
Has Harley decided on making
Miss --- a church-going belle?
As yet from his fall, or got well?
Has Harley decided on making
Miss --- a church-going belle?
Is Titmarsh on anything clever,
Or bent on returning to France?
Is Planché as bustling as ever,
Avowedly going to Dance?
Or bent on returning to France?
Is Planché as bustling as ever,
Avowedly going to Dance?
Say where—but ah me! wherefore ask
When there's none to reply or to care,
And Echo herself scorns the task
Of answering gloomily “Where?”
When there's none to reply or to care,
And Echo herself scorns the task
Of answering gloomily “Where?”
But Fladgate will write, or George Raymond,—
His muse will not surely decline
For one moment to turn from the gay monde,
And sympathize sadly with mine.
His muse will not surely decline
For one moment to turn from the gay monde,
And sympathize sadly with mine.
Perhaps you'll consider it silly
To end with a rascally pun,
But as I have thus done my billet,
O, send me back one billet done!
To end with a rascally pun,
But as I have thus done my billet,
O, send me back one billet done!
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