 | The Ingoldsby Lyrics |  |
238
A Medley.
(FOR A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM.)
Here's a pretty dilemma!
The cruel Miss Emma
Insists upon verses, insists upon verses,
While Apollo refuses,
Nor one of the Muses
Assistance disburses, assistance disburses.
How can I escape
From this terrible scrape?
What! an album's petition, an album's petition!
No prospect I can see,
Unless Madam Fancy
Vouchsafes me a vision, a vision, a vision!
The cruel Miss Emma
Insists upon verses, insists upon verses,
While Apollo refuses,
Nor one of the Muses
Assistance disburses, assistance disburses.
How can I escape
From this terrible scrape?
What! an album's petition, an album's petition!
No prospect I can see,
Unless Madam Fancy
Vouchsafes me a vision, a vision, a vision!
Stay, methinks I see Phœbus,
To make me a rebus
Has laid down his fiddle, has laid down his fiddle,
When in comes Judge Park
With Sir Charles Mansfield Clark,
And runs off with the riddle, the riddle, the riddle!
Up starts Mrs. Hughes
When she hears the news,
And calling a Jarvey, and calling a Jarvey,
Drives after them straightway,
Through Lincoln's Inn gateway,
With Dan Whittle Harvey, with Dan Whittle Harvey!
To make me a rebus
Has laid down his fiddle, has laid down his fiddle,
When in comes Judge Park
With Sir Charles Mansfield Clark,
And runs off with the riddle, the riddle, the riddle!
Up starts Mrs. Hughes
When she hears the news,
239
Drives after them straightway,
Through Lincoln's Inn gateway,
With Dan Whittle Harvey, with Dan Whittle Harvey!
The special attorney
Stops short on the journey,
Not liking the weather, the weather, the weather;
So quitting the coach
At Lord Melbourne's approach,
They both begin waltzing together, together!
While stout Mr. Bentley
Trips after them gently,
Assisted by Colborn, assisted by Colborn,
Till Prince Esterhazy
Runs off with his jasey,
And pawns it in Holborn, in Holborn, in Holborn!
Stops short on the journey,
Not liking the weather, the weather, the weather;
So quitting the coach
At Lord Melbourne's approach,
They both begin waltzing together, together!
While stout Mr. Bentley
Trips after them gently,
Assisted by Colborn, assisted by Colborn,
Till Prince Esterhazy
Runs off with his jasey,
And pawns it in Holborn, in Holborn, in Holborn!
Charles Kemble in vain
Tries to get it again,
And taps at the wicket, and taps at the wicket;
But Little John Russell
Contrives in the bustle
To purloin the ticket, the ticket, the ticket!
Colonel Evans comes up,
And invites him to sup
At the “Carlton,” with Lockhart, and Croker, and Croker,
Where the ghost of Horne Tooke
Blackballs Theodore Hook
For being a joker, a joker, a joker!
Tries to get it again,
And taps at the wicket, and taps at the wicket;
But Little John Russell
Contrives in the bustle
To purloin the ticket, the ticket, the ticket!
Colonel Evans comes up,
And invites him to sup
240
Where the ghost of Horne Tooke
Blackballs Theodore Hook
For being a joker, a joker, a joker!
Then in comes Earl Grey,
In his dignified way,
Saying, “Dress me some dumplings with dripping, with dripping,”
And ends by observing
To Washington Irving,
That Harrington's whiskers want clipping, want clipping;
Unable to read, he
Turns round to Macready,
And tells him that yawning is catching, is catching;
While the Duke of Buccleugh
Assures Rothschild the Jew
That Solomon's Temple wants thatching, wants thatching!
In his dignified way,
Saying, “Dress me some dumplings with dripping, with dripping,”
And ends by observing
To Washington Irving,
That Harrington's whiskers want clipping, want clipping;
Unable to read, he
Turns round to Macready,
And tells him that yawning is catching, is catching;
While the Duke of Buccleugh
Assures Rothschild the Jew
That Solomon's Temple wants thatching, wants thatching!
So, locking his desk, he
Roars out to Fieschi
To shoot the Lord Mayor through the body, the body;
For Lord Alvanley's groom,
With Ducrow and Joe Hume,
Are quaffing gin toddy, gin toddy, gin toddy.
“Look here,” says Tom Moore;
“I've a chop on a skewer,
Which I mean to get dress'd for my dinner, my dinner,
Since Lord Holland says Rogers
And I are queer codgers,
And calls Sydney Smith an old sinner, old sinner!”
Roars out to Fieschi
To shoot the Lord Mayor through the body, the body;
For Lord Alvanley's groom,
With Ducrow and Joe Hume,
Are quaffing gin toddy, gin toddy, gin toddy.
241
“I've a chop on a skewer,
Which I mean to get dress'd for my dinner, my dinner,
Since Lord Holland says Rogers
And I are queer codgers,
And calls Sydney Smith an old sinner, old sinner!”
Then mounting his horse he
Rides off with Count D'Orsay
To call on Beau Brummel at Calais, at Calais,
Where Little Bob Keeley
And young D'Israeli
Have opened a splendid gin-palace, gin-palace!
Below stairs John Britton
Is teaching a kitten
To lap all the cream in the dairy, the dairy,
And tells Sir John Soane
That her mother is grown
A profound antiquary, profound antiquary!
Rides off with Count D'Orsay
To call on Beau Brummel at Calais, at Calais,
Where Little Bob Keeley
And young D'Israeli
Have opened a splendid gin-palace, gin-palace!
Below stairs John Britton
Is teaching a kitten
To lap all the cream in the dairy, the dairy,
And tells Sir John Soane
That her mother is grown
A profound antiquary, profound antiquary!
But stay, Mrs. Hughes
Will fall foul of my Muse,
And call her a gipsy, and call her a gipsy;
For says she, “Only look
How you're spoiling the book!
Why, you're certainly tipsy, certainly tipsy!”
And the man in the moon,
Taking snuff with a spoon,
Cries, “For shame! Have some conscience, some conscience, some conscience.”
So I drop my pen gaily,
And challenge Haynes Bayly
To write in eight stanzas more nonsense, more nonsense
Will fall foul of my Muse,
And call her a gipsy, and call her a gipsy;
For says she, “Only look
How you're spoiling the book!
Why, you're certainly tipsy, certainly tipsy!”
242
Taking snuff with a spoon,
Cries, “For shame! Have some conscience, some conscience, some conscience.”
So I drop my pen gaily,
And challenge Haynes Bayly
To write in eight stanzas more nonsense, more nonsense
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