 | Absurdities |  |
To My esteemed Friend, Edward Harding, Esq. these Absurdities
are Most faithfully Inscribed.
1
TIM TROTT AND BIDDY LOWE.
A BALLAD.
One Sunday to the village church
Both old and young were flowing:
Oh! the bells were ringing merrily,
And beaux with belles were going.
Both old and young were flowing:
Oh! the bells were ringing merrily,
And beaux with belles were going.
And Mister Trott was trotting there,
When Biddy Lowe so smart,
Just pass'd—and tho' she only walk'd,
Her eyes—ran through his heart.
When Biddy Lowe so smart,
Just pass'd—and tho' she only walk'd,
Her eyes—ran through his heart.
Now Mister Trott began to leer,
And throw his eyes about;
But ah! he felt a pang within,
He fain would be without.
And throw his eyes about;
But ah! he felt a pang within,
He fain would be without.
2
“For a suitor I might suit her well,
“And why should I not please?
“For though I may have silver locks,
“Iv'e gold beneath my keys.”
“And why should I not please?
“For though I may have silver locks,
“Iv'e gold beneath my keys.”
For o'er his head he'd sixty years,
And more if truth be told,
And, for the first time, now he thought
'Twas frightful to be old!
And more if truth be told,
And, for the first time, now he thought
'Twas frightful to be old!
The service o'er, Tim walk'd away,
And o'er the fields did roam;
He sought her cot—and found it out,
But Biddy was at home!
And o'er the fields did roam;
He sought her cot—and found it out,
But Biddy was at home!
Tim made a bow and made a leg,
And spoke with hesitation;
While Biddy frown'd upon his suit,
And smiled at his—relation!
And spoke with hesitation;
While Biddy frown'd upon his suit,
And smiled at his—relation!
But tho' so scornfully repuls'd,
And all his vows proved vain,
Tim Trott had lost his heart, and wish'd
To prove his loss—a-gain!
And all his vows proved vain,
Tim Trott had lost his heart, and wish'd
To prove his loss—a-gain!
3
Miss Biddy met her ancient beau,
And said with cruel glee,
“Oh! Trott, though you're a little man,
“You seem to long for me!—
And said with cruel glee,
“Oh! Trott, though you're a little man,
“You seem to long for me!—
Tim stammer'd, hammer'd, hem'd and sigh'd—
He flutter'd like a leaf—
With piteous look he eye'd the maid,
But couldn't hide his grief.
He flutter'd like a leaf—
With piteous look he eye'd the maid,
But couldn't hide his grief.
“Tho' I'm a man of substance, ma'am,
“I'm like a shadow-elf;
“I've sigh'd and sigh'd until I am
“Like one beside myself!
“I'm like a shadow-elf;
“I've sigh'd and sigh'd until I am
“Like one beside myself!
Quoth she, and with a killing smile,
(Oh! most unkind retort)
“You know I've cut you, aye, for long,
“So now I'll cut you short!”
(Oh! most unkind retort)
“You know I've cut you, aye, for long,
“So now I'll cut you short!”
“Ah! make not of my size a laugh,
“I would my limbs were stronger,
“But tho' you never lov'd me, ma'am,
“Say, would you love me longer?”
“I would my limbs were stronger,
“But tho' you never lov'd me, ma'am,
“Say, would you love me longer?”
4
But Biddy's heart was hard as stone,
Tim's tears were shed in vain,
And when she cried—“go, ugly man!”
He thought his beauty plain!
Tim's tears were shed in vain,
And when she cried—“go, ugly man!”
He thought his beauty plain!
Quoth he: “I go—farewell—farewell,
“I weep—for I'm resigned!
“I feel my heart that beat before—
“Left beating is behind!”
“I weep—for I'm resigned!
“I feel my heart that beat before—
“Left beating is behind!”
12
THE TALLOW CHANDLER.
“Here comes tallow!”
—Shakspeare.
—Shakspeare.
“Of many a stanza, this alone
“Had 'scaped oblivion------.”
Evenings in Greece .
“Had 'scaped oblivion------.”
Evenings in Greece .
Oh! sadly sing my weeping Muse
'Till Echo mourn again;
An honest Tallow-Chandler's dirge,
Should be a melting strain.
'Till Echo mourn again;
An honest Tallow-Chandler's dirge,
Should be a melting strain.
Although no hero, Dicky Dip,
And living, aye, in peace,
His deeds would not disgrace the pen
Of Homer—Bard of Greece.
And living, aye, in peace,
His deeds would not disgrace the pen
Of Homer—Bard of Greece.
13
If Southey, in chaste elegance,
His life to write should chuse;
'Twould be but neighbourly—as Dick
Lived near the Royal Mews.
His life to write should chuse;
'Twould be but neighbourly—as Dick
Lived near the Royal Mews.
Or blandest Moore in jewel-verse,
His eulogy might pour;—
For Dick who read a—Little once,
Now wished to study—Moore.
His eulogy might pour;—
For Dick who read a—Little once,
Now wished to study—Moore.
For other's woes, his neighbours know,
Poor Dicky keenly felt,—
The wants of fellow-creatures made
The Tallow-Chandler melt!
Poor Dicky keenly felt,—
The wants of fellow-creatures made
The Tallow-Chandler melt!
His money-bags were full of gold,
And pity on his lip,
And all the poor that came to buy,
He let them have—a dip!
And pity on his lip,
And all the poor that came to buy,
He let them have—a dip!
Tho' damsels short he lov'd right well,
He better lov'd long nights,
For he thought not of his heart so much
As he thought of—his lights.
He better lov'd long nights,
For he thought not of his heart so much
As he thought of—his lights.
14
And he preferred a slender form
In maidens fair and chaste;
Yet, being saving, he was grieved
To see a taper waste!
In maidens fair and chaste;
Yet, being saving, he was grieved
To see a taper waste!
Tho' he was far from all his friends,
And relatives most dear,
Whene'er they wanted aid of him,
They always found him—near.
And relatives most dear,
Whene'er they wanted aid of him,
They always found him—near.
Quoth he: “Trade is an ocean wide;
“I must provide for gales;
“For like unto a sailor, I
“Depend upon my sales!”
“I must provide for gales;
“For like unto a sailor, I
“Depend upon my sales!”
All dogs Dick lov'd as guardians true
Of property from knaves;
Yet (oh! 'twas strange!) most gladly he
Provided them with graves.
Of property from knaves;
Yet (oh! 'twas strange!) most gladly he
Provided them with graves.
In hot disputes, or quarrels fierce,
Where blows were like to fall,
He proved himself a man of wax,
By running—from them all.
Where blows were like to fall,
He proved himself a man of wax,
By running—from them all.
15
The Widow Coles sought Dicky once,
And fat and rich was she,
But she lov'd drops, so he declined,
To make her—Mrs. D---.
And fat and rich was she,
But she lov'd drops, so he declined,
To make her—Mrs. D---.
She had a thousand pounds or more,
Or Rumor told some flams—
Her pounds with Dick had weight, but then
He'd a scruple 'gainst her drams!
Or Rumor told some flams—
Her pounds with Dick had weight, but then
He'd a scruple 'gainst her drams!
And so he single liv'd, and look'd
As lean as any rat,
And all declared his trade would fail,
Unless that he got—fat!
As lean as any rat,
And all declared his trade would fail,
Unless that he got—fat!
His eyes grew dim—his limbs grew weak,
He sad began to turn,
He found that, like a candle-wick,
Life would not longer burn.
He sad began to turn,
He found that, like a candle-wick,
Life would not longer burn.
A winding-sheet a warning gave
His life would quickly slip;
And in his mould, original,
Did Death cast Dicky Dip!
His life would quickly slip;
And in his mould, original,
Did Death cast Dicky Dip!
16
Ah! little did he think his goods
Strange hands would so soon handle;—
For he was buried by torch-light,
His stock sold—by the candle!
Strange hands would so soon handle;—
For he was buried by torch-light,
His stock sold—by the candle!
24
THE FISHMONGER'S LAMENT.
A PINDARIC ODE.
1.
“I'll fly—yes, I'll fly from my country, I will,For at ease I am ill;—
I'll go out of Britain, or out of my mind,
For I find
Every plaice I behold—makes me think of my maid,
Who my love has repaid
With disdain!
Ah! she little knows what my heart feels;
Yet she laughs at my pain;
Cruel soul! she would laugh were I laid by the heels!”
2.
“She look'd simple and gay, like a dolphin at play;How her errors were hid!
I thought her a lamb (lack-a-day!)
She proved a she-wolf, and made me a lam-prey!—
She did!
25
3.
“My heart it is lost, and my stomach's gone quite;Morn and night,
I do nothing but whimper and weep;—
O! so deep,
A thorn in my heart she hath stuck,
(The more's my ill-luck!)
But oh! tho' she wont let me woo her,
If able I were,
Yet I ne'er
Would send that thorn-back again to her!
4.
Like an oyster's, I'll let my beard grow,Which may show,
All the world how I grieve at my loss:—
It's a toss!
A miracle!—If I survive her rejection
Of my fond affection;
For I'm no philosopher (alas! my poor head!)
In Greek I'm no dab,
And am not deeper red,
Than a boil'd lobster—a cray, or a crab!
26
5.
Oh! never did woman so torture and tussle man!I bade her remember that I was a Christian soul;
Quoth she (and her laughter knew no control)
“Your soul may be Christian, but you're a Muscle-man!”
6.
“She call'd me a fright, and an elfish man!—And forgot all the rings,
The gew-gaws and pretty things,
I gave her so freely to win her hard heart;
But when I so gen'rously had made her look smart,
To my view;
(Oh! she made me smart too!”
For she call'd me a scaley and sell-fish-man!”
7.
Oh! madness! despair, and distraction!I see I shall do some blind action.
My heart is burnt out, and my brain is on fire,
I'll kill myself—ere I expire;—
Shall I shoot—hang, or drown?
Drown!
I've got but one chance (a main chance it shall be)
27
For sharks are less cruel than she;
There a pike may run clean thro' my gizzard,
And finish my fate which, indeed, is hard!
My sorrow o'er terror prevails—
So maiden—adieu!
And fair England too!
I may find some compassion in Whales!”
44
AN ODE TO Mr. JAMES ATKINSON, Prince of Perfumers, AND IMPORTER OF RUSSIAN BEARS' GREASE.
“Larding
the lean earth as he puffs along.”
1.
Hail! Man of Grease!Whose study and whose trade is
To compound washes for the ladies;
May thy fame increase!
And every lady,
In age or hey-day,
Smile on and patronize thee,
And show they prize thee
With a zeal,
Ardent as patriot's feel—
Or such as each loyal friend of liberty bears Greece!
45
2.
O! wonderful Magician!That giv'st to wrinkled age a plump and rosy youth;
In truth,
Thou art a most profound physician!
Ladies are grateful, and will laud thee,
And reward thee;
For many know,
To thy superior skill they owe,
('Tis true!)
Their winning graces and their hairs too!
How many a plump old duchess, erst quite grey,
Exhibits now dark raven locks on levee-day;
Her praise (unbounded tho' it be) can never err,
For thou (who liv'st for others) dyed for her.
3.
Sweet Man of Essences!Whom Fashion leads;
That night and morn,
Unwearied, labour'st to adorn
Those natural excrescences,
Men's heads;
E'en to the Northern Pole, whose minions roam,
To catch fat bears to grease our polls at home!
46
Of many a whisker'd blade,
Who struts in polish'd steel,
And rattles spurs on pavement in Pall Mall,
How much he owes thine aid,
For all the hair his lip and chin reveal!
And thou may'st tell it too without a vaunt,
And meet their angry glances steady—
Thee, their loud blust'ring cannot daunt,
For thou hast bearded them already.
4.
Bright Luminary!That shine'st thro' fogs of envy quite transparent!
A loadstar, breaking thro' the clouds,
To those
(Or friends or foes)
Who, like some poor lorn bark bereft of sails and shrouds,
Which o'er the foaming billow rolls,
Ride on life's tempestuous seas beneath bare polls!
And lastly, aye, and this I call
The kindest deed of all—
Thou dost bestow
(I know)
On gay bald batchelors, young hairs-apparent!
52
Ye BAR MAYDE OF Ye OLDE BLUE BOARE.
AN ANCIENT BALLANT.
1
Ye spruce and spunkie revellers of high or lowe degree,Quick mix your ponche, compose your mugs, and listen unto me:—
A merrie tale I wis it be—a tale that hath no peers,
Soe let ye young be younkers still, ye elders lend their ears!
53
2
One Rosabelle, a Bar-Mayde, was (a virgin fayre to view)Eke at ye Blue Boare Senior; where cunninglie she drewe
Ye stout and hale—choice spirits too—from everie part about,
And wits run in to joke and drink, and let their wits run out!
3
Of womankinde ye fayrest she—yet cruell of her kinde,And seem'd (tho' all eyes look'd for her) to all perfection blinde;
Her prayses loude in rhymes were sung by all her loving slaves,
But she made them all a laughing stock—a butt of all their staves!
4
Quoth one, (a wittie varlet he, and smilinglie he spoke,For well loved he to crack his nuts, his bottle, and his joke)
54
“Yet I will prove, my bonnie lass, they nothing but Miss-call thee.
5
“For tho' they make their love a fish, in hopes more soon to net her,“That sure might find some other name, that eke might suit her better;
“Now I (for thou art passing fair) white-bait would thee appell,
“Or hinting at thy station, lass, would call thee a—Bar-belle!
6
“Or, setting downe to write thy prayse, to win a crowne of myrtell,“Would name thee (for thy gentlenesse) my pretty little turtle.”
“Aye, soe the rich old miser calls me,” quick replied ye belle,
“But he'll never have his turtle, 'till his turtle's in a shell.”
55
7
Now there was one (a likelie youth) who'd follow'd her for long,She tryed his patience and his love, and mark'd him from the thronge;
Quoth she: “For me he's waited long, and loves me tho' no prater,
“A bar-mayde needs must marry well who marries a good waiter.
8
Now when ye mayde was made a wyfe, it chanc'd upon a daye,That self same wittie varlet came to chat an hour away:—
“A pot of beere, my pretty mayde,” cried he, with merrie air,
“And let it be as mild as thee, and have a head as fayre!”
9
Quoth Rosabelle, all smilinglie: “Dear Sir, I am a wyfe!”“A wyfe!” cried he, in wide amaze—“Then farewell to this lyfe—
56
“My heart is broke—I faint!—I die! soe quick, and bring my beere.”
64
MY FIRST LOVE.
Lines IN EXTEMPORE CRAMBO, ADDRESSED TO THE LATE AMIABLE AND ACCOMPLISHED ARETHUSA HARRISON,
NOW, ALAS! MRS. DIXON, AND THE LITTLE MOTHER OF A LARGE FAMILY.
“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
Mr. William Shakspeare, of Stratford on Avon.
Mr. William Shakspeare, of Stratford on Avon.
1.
I saw thee—loved thee—ay, with heart and soul,Sweet Type of Excellence!—But no controul
Have we poor mortals on the Fates' decrees;
Who (strange perversion!) fill our hearts with sorrow when they please!
67
2.
Our parents first observed our budding love,And caught us both when wandering to the grove!
Ah! was not cruelty apparent in their sport;
Sending us to the country straight, when we were going to court.
3.
Can I forget that muddy day we parted,When, standing at my window broken-hearted,
I watch'd with anxious eye each passing coach;
What tho' my 'Thusey walked, I knew her by her genteel carriage at her first approach!
4.
I saw thee cast a lingering look behind;—I kiss'd my hand! I never saw thee smile so sadly or so kind;
And tho' soon out of sight thou wert not out of mind:
I gazed 'till fancy almost brought thee back again,
But fancy and wishes, love, were all in vain,
They only served to mock
Thy swain, with visions of thy smart sash and muslin frock;
Yet, fixed as a statue, there I sigh'd away the morn,
And looking in vain for muslin, look'd forlorn!
68
5.
I thought my heart would melt,I dropp'd my heavy head against the window, love, and wept;
(You little know the panes I felt!)
And when I went to bed I never slept.
Oh! why did such pure affection one so faithless fix on,
As you, Miss Arethusa—now Mrs. Dixon!
6.
Oft (to my Muses best ability)Have I bepraised thy sense and sensibility;
Ah! little did I think that thou (now wife and mother!)
Wert possess'd of “a heart that could feel for another.”
72
THE LOVES OF THE CABBAGE AND THE CAULIFLOWER.
A Cabbage lov'd a Cauliflower!
(How far beyond my Muse's power,
To tell how much they loved.)
“Oh! list unto a lover true;
“To one, whose heart was form'd for you!”
He said—she seem'd unmoved.
(How far beyond my Muse's power,
To tell how much they loved.)
“Oh! list unto a lover true;
“To one, whose heart was form'd for you!”
He said—she seem'd unmoved.
“Ah! think not 'cause my wounds are green,
“I speak thus warmly, fairest queen,
“Nor think me insincere;
“For oh! my love is firmly rooted;
“Nor is there one so aptly suited,
“To be my wife—my dear.”
“I speak thus warmly, fairest queen,
“Nor think me insincere;
“For oh! my love is firmly rooted;
“Nor is there one so aptly suited,
“To be my wife—my dear.”
73
Said she:—“I heard the gard'ner say,
“Your heart was hard, the other day;
“Then can you love but me?”
“Said Cab—“You did not comprehend,
“The gard'ner, love, you may depend,
“Did merely wish to cut me!”
“Your heart was hard, the other day;
“Then can you love but me?”
“Said Cab—“You did not comprehend,
“The gard'ner, love, you may depend,
“Did merely wish to cut me!”
“Oh! then”—the Cauliflower sigh'd;
“Do you deem worthy of your bride,
“One of such small renown?”
“Of small renown! What is't you say?
“The gard'ner said the other day,
“Your head was worth a crown!”
“Do you deem worthy of your bride,
“One of such small renown?”
“Of small renown! What is't you say?
“The gard'ner said the other day,
“Your head was worth a crown!”
“Then take me for thy wife, my love!—
“What rapture! can I ever rove?
“No—no—I swear by Venus!”
“But why so distant?” Cabbage cried;
“So distant?” said the lovely bride,
“We've but one bed between us!”
“What rapture! can I ever rove?
“No—no—I swear by Venus!”
“But why so distant?” Cabbage cried;
“So distant?” said the lovely bride,
“We've but one bed between us!”
How little thought the luckless pair
The cruel gard'ner was so near,
(He came at set of sun;)
His knife from leathern case he drew,
And cut off both these lovers true,
For fear that they should run!
The cruel gard'ner was so near,
(He came at set of sun;)
His knife from leathern case he drew,
And cut off both these lovers true,
For fear that they should run!
74
THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY.
Love's chains are chains of roses,
Entwined about the heart!
And if thorns be it matters not,
They only make one smart!
Entwined about the heart!
And if thorns be it matters not,
They only make one smart!
But Hymen's chains have links of lead,
That rarely link to joy;
His torch in vulgar prose—a link,
And he—what but a link-boy?
That rarely link to joy;
His torch in vulgar prose—a link,
And he—what but a link-boy?
Yes—yes—I'll lead a single life,
(A married man is lost,)
For the dearer that a wife may be,
The more that wife will cost!
(A married man is lost,)
For the dearer that a wife may be,
The more that wife will cost!
Ye meddling match-makers may try
To wheedle me 'tis true;
But tho' I'll never match your choice,
I'll be a match for you.
To wheedle me 'tis true;
But tho' I'll never match your choice,
I'll be a match for you.
75
Myself to you I'll never lend,
So fret and sigh and groan;
For tho' I am a single man,
I'll prove I'm not a-loan.
So fret and sigh and groan;
For tho' I am a single man,
I'll prove I'm not a-loan.
I've sought all London thro' and thro',
'Mong dames of high degree;
I've seen a hundred pretty maids,
But not one made for me!
'Mong dames of high degree;
I've seen a hundred pretty maids,
But not one made for me!
Miss Seraphina was a nymph
I thought beyond compare;
Alack! one day—unseen—I heard
My Seraphina swear!
I thought beyond compare;
Alack! one day—unseen—I heard
My Seraphina swear!
I'd thrown sheep's eyes at her, because
I took her for a lamb;
'Tis true, I lik'd her breeding well,
But didn't like her damn!
I took her for a lamb;
'Tis true, I lik'd her breeding well,
But didn't like her damn!
I quitted her for Fanny Bloom,
(How sweetly she could sing!)
But she had two strings to her bow,
And two Beaux to her string!
(How sweetly she could sing!)
But she had two strings to her bow,
And two Beaux to her string!
76
Next blue-eye'd Emily I sought,
With flaxen tresses flowing;
Yet oh! I saw those lovely eyes,
In angry passion glowing.
With flaxen tresses flowing;
Yet oh! I saw those lovely eyes,
In angry passion glowing.
She struck her maid! she might strike me,
My visits thence did cease;
Quoth I: “It is not every hand
“That bears the palm of peace.”
My visits thence did cease;
Quoth I: “It is not every hand
“That bears the palm of peace.”
An angel, Isabel they call'd,
'Tis true she is a bell;
Who hath a clapper rings for aye,
That soon would ring my knell!
'Tis true she is a bell;
Who hath a clapper rings for aye,
That soon would ring my knell!
Rich widows too I've tried in vain,
(Relicts of golden calves!)
They all were wives of honest men,
But not their better halves!
(Relicts of golden calves!)
They all were wives of honest men,
But not their better halves!
The first I sought was Widow Black,
Of Black, the Undertaker;
Her beauty, true, could never pall,
Yet mine I meant to make her.
Of Black, the Undertaker;
Her beauty, true, could never pall,
Yet mine I meant to make her.
77
I followed her, and leered, and glanced,
My hat was always doffing;
But she, alas! asthmatic proved,
And always was a coughing!
My hat was always doffing;
But she, alas! asthmatic proved,
And always was a coughing!
There was Widow Warren, fair to view,
Of presence quite commanding;
But oh! she had a wooden leg,
And a weakly understanding!
Of presence quite commanding;
But oh! she had a wooden leg,
And a weakly understanding!
A bachelor I am, my friends may laugh,
No Benedict they'll find me;
Free as the air I'll live and die,
If I leave no heir behind me!
No Benedict they'll find me;
Free as the air I'll live and die,
If I leave no heir behind me!
I'm not of those the “Fancy” styled,
Whom Egan loves to sing;
So my matches and engagements shall
Be all without the ring!
Whom Egan loves to sing;
So my matches and engagements shall
Be all without the ring!
78
TO THOMAS HOOD, ESQ.
AUTHOR OF WHIMS AND ODDITIES.
Wits may now lay aside their pens,Their sallies bring no good;
'Till thou art dead they cannot hope
To—Urn a lively Hood!
82
THE BARBER.
Nick Razor-blade a barber was,
A strapping lad was he;
And he could shave with such a grace,
It was a joy to see!
A strapping lad was he;
And he could shave with such a grace,
It was a joy to see!
And tho' employ'd within his house,
He kept like rat in hole;
All those that pass'd the barber's door,
Could always see his pole!
He kept like rat in hole;
All those that pass'd the barber's door,
Could always see his pole!
His dress was rather plain than rich,
Nor fitted over well;
Yet, tho' no macaroni Nick,
He often cut a swell!
Nor fitted over well;
Yet, tho' no macaroni Nick,
He often cut a swell!
And Nick was brave, and he could fight,
As many times he proved;
A lamb became a lion fierce,
Whenever he was moved!
As many times he proved;
A lamb became a lion fierce,
Whenever he was moved!
83
Like many of his betters, who
To field with pistols rush,
When Nicky lather'd any one,
He was obliged to brush!
To field with pistols rush,
When Nicky lather'd any one,
He was obliged to brush!
Some say Nick was a brainless block,
While those who've seen him waving
His bright sharp razor, o'er soap'd chins,
Declare he was a shaving!
While those who've seen him waving
His bright sharp razor, o'er soap'd chins,
Declare he was a shaving!
His next door neighbour, Nelly Jones,
A maid of thirty eight,
'Twas said regarded Nick with smiles,
But folks will always prate.
A maid of thirty eight,
'Twas said regarded Nick with smiles,
But folks will always prate.
'Tis known in summer-time that she,
(A maid and only daughter)
To shew her love for Razor-blade,
Kept Nicky in hot water!
(A maid and only daughter)
To shew her love for Razor-blade,
Kept Nicky in hot water!
For politics Nick always said,
He never cared a fig;
Quoth he:—“If I a Tory were,
“I likewise wear a wig!”
He never cared a fig;
Quoth he:—“If I a Tory were,
“I likewise wear a wig!”
84
No poacher he, yet hairs he wired,
With skill that made maids prouder;
And though he never used a gun,
He knew the use of powder!
With skill that made maids prouder;
And though he never used a gun,
He knew the use of powder!
He never took offence at words,
However broad or blunt;
But when maids brought a front to dress,
Of course he took a front!
However broad or blunt;
But when maids brought a front to dress,
Of course he took a front!
Beneath his razor folks have slept,
So easy were they mown;
Yet (oh! most passing strange it was!)
His razor was his own!
So easy were they mown;
Yet (oh! most passing strange it was!)
His razor was his own!
Nick doubtless had a tender heart,
But not for Nelly Jones;
He made Miss Popps ‘bone of his bone,’
But never made old bones!
But not for Nelly Jones;
He made Miss Popps ‘bone of his bone,’
But never made old bones!
He died and left an only son,
A barber too by trade;
But when they ope'd his will, they found
A cruel will he'd made.
A barber too by trade;
But when they ope'd his will, they found
A cruel will he'd made.
85
And doubtless he was raving mad,
(To slander I'm unwilling)
For tho' a barber, Nicky cut
His heir off with a shilling!
(To slander I'm unwilling)
For tho' a barber, Nicky cut
His heir off with a shilling!
86
THE BILL OF FARE.
BY A COOKSHOPMAN.
I've soups, ragouts, beef boil'd and roast,
And all the joints a sheep can boast,
To tickle taste or smell;
I've legs for dancing-master's fit;
Saddles for those who want a bit;
Rich gravies in the well.
And all the joints a sheep can boast,
To tickle taste or smell;
I've legs for dancing-master's fit;
Saddles for those who want a bit;
Rich gravies in the well.
Trotters for those who wish to run
From beadle dread, or noisy dun,
From shrew or devil;
Goose for play critics, hissing hot;
Sauce in abundance too I've got,
Though always civil.
From beadle dread, or noisy dun,
From shrew or devil;
Goose for play critics, hissing hot;
Sauce in abundance too I've got,
Though always civil.
For those stern men of flint and steel,
Who tender pity never feel,
For others' woe or smart;
Miserly misanthropic elves,
Whose only care is for themselves,
I offer them a heart!
Who tender pity never feel,
For others' woe or smart;
87
Whose only care is for themselves,
I offer them a heart!
Mock turtle for false-hearted swains,
Who laugh at ladies' sighs and pains,
Neglected for new flames;
Good hands of pork for all those Jews
Who to turn honest Christians choose;
And tongues for tacit dames.
Who laugh at ladies' sighs and pains,
Neglected for new flames;
Good hands of pork for all those Jews
Who to turn honest Christians choose;
And tongues for tacit dames.
I've beef dress'd à la mode for bucks,
And for the dandies cut prime ducks,
With stuffing should they lack it;
I've puddings too, so much per platter;
For bruisers, there's my Yorkshire batter,
'Gainst any I will back it!
And for the dandies cut prime ducks,
With stuffing should they lack it;
I've puddings too, so much per platter;
For bruisers, there's my Yorkshire batter,
'Gainst any I will back it!
For Capitalists—men of crumbs!
I've puddings made of choicest plums—
(A plum to them is meet:)
For watermen—of largest size
I've one of currants—which, likewise,
Is much liked in the Fleet.
I've puddings made of choicest plums—
(A plum to them is meet:)
For watermen—of largest size
I've one of currants—which, likewise,
Is much liked in the Fleet.
88
To tempt old bachelors to feast,
A spare-rib delicately drest,
I may boast I have got;
In season every thing I seek,
So always in the Passion week,
I've hasty pudding hot.
A spare-rib delicately drest,
I may boast I have got;
In season every thing I seek,
So always in the Passion week,
I've hasty pudding hot.
But in my shop you'll find a store
Of these tid-bits, and many more
Too numerous to tell:
So call for what you will and try;
I've done—yet will not say good bye,
But bid you all—Fare-well!
Of these tid-bits, and many more
Too numerous to tell:
So call for what you will and try;
I've done—yet will not say good bye,
But bid you all—Fare-well!
125
THE LAST GATHERING OF THE AUTHOR'S GRAPHIC AND POETICAL ABSURDITIES.
126
Love hath grown old—his wings are moulting;
Some vow he still is young—mere raving!
Old Time, I know, hath given him a beard,
For by this light—I've seen him shaving!
Some vow he still is young—mere raving!
Old Time, I know, hath given him a beard,
For by this light—I've seen him shaving!
Tho' Tabby's a virgin, and verging on fifty,
And blushes (through rouge) when you mention a kiss;
And wears a fair caxen too, curled à la Psyche,
Yet (patch'd tho' she be) she ne'er looks—a-miss.
And blushes (through rouge) when you mention a kiss;
And wears a fair caxen too, curled à la Psyche,
Yet (patch'd tho' she be) she ne'er looks—a-miss.
127
AN IMPROMPTU; ADDRESSED TO A SICK LADY.
Dear Ann, I love you—well;But, tho' you're—ill,
I pr'ythee—cry not—
For I love you—still!
128
A CASE OF PECULIAR DISTRESS.
“How happy could I be with either.”
—Gay.
—Gay.
Alas! the troubles of a youth in love,
For sympathizing pity loudly call;
I'd scarcely eighteen summers reach'd above,
Ere I was destined deep in love to fall.
For sympathizing pity loudly call;
I'd scarcely eighteen summers reach'd above,
Ere I was destined deep in love to fall.
As some lean school-boy in a pastry-cook's,
Whom some fond aunt hath thither led to treat;
Reviews the tarts and pies with greedy looks,
Not knowing where to choose or which to eat.
Whom some fond aunt hath thither led to treat;
Reviews the tarts and pies with greedy looks,
Not knowing where to choose or which to eat.
Just so, quite undecided, stood I too,
Betwixt two sisters blooming, bright, and fair—
The one had sloe-black eyes, the other blue,
Sweet Anne had ebon—Mary, flaxen hair!
Betwixt two sisters blooming, bright, and fair—
The one had sloe-black eyes, the other blue,
Sweet Anne had ebon—Mary, flaxen hair!
129
I sigh'd for both—the girls both sigh'd for me,
What bliss was this to find one's love requited!
But did this last?—Ah! no! it could not be;
I lived, ye Gods! to see my hopes all blighted!
What bliss was this to find one's love requited!
But did this last?—Ah! no! it could not be;
I lived, ye Gods! to see my hopes all blighted!
In terms conclusive, then, I wrote to Anne;
I'd fix'd on her—alas! it was too late!
Her charms had won a more decided man—
I thought on Mary!—She, too, had got a mate!
I'd fix'd on her—alas! it was too late!
Her charms had won a more decided man—
I thought on Mary!—She, too, had got a mate!
132
FINIS.
| Absurdities | |