 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood |  |
BAILEY BALLADS
LINES TO MARY (AT NO. I NEWGATE, FAVOURED BY MR. WONTNER)
O Mary, I believ'd you true,
And I was blest in so believing;
But till this hour I never knew—
That you were taken up for thieving!
And I was blest in so believing;
But till this hour I never knew—
That you were taken up for thieving!
Oh! when I snatch'd a tender kiss,
Or some such trifle when I courted,
You said, indeed, that love was bliss,
But never owned you were transported!
Or some such trifle when I courted,
You said, indeed, that love was bliss,
But never owned you were transported!
But then to gaze on that fair face—
It would have been an unfair feeling,
To dream that you had pilfered lace—
And Flints had suffer'd from your stealing!
It would have been an unfair feeling,
To dream that you had pilfered lace—
And Flints had suffer'd from your stealing!
Or when my suit I first preferr'd,
To bring your coldness to repentance,
Before I hammer'd out a word,
How could I dream you'd heard a sentence!
To bring your coldness to repentance,
Before I hammer'd out a word,
How could I dream you'd heard a sentence!
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Or when with all the warmth of youth
I strove to prove my love no fiction,
How could I guess I urged a truth
On one already past conviction!
I strove to prove my love no fiction,
How could I guess I urged a truth
On one already past conviction!
How could I dream that ivory part,
Your hand—where I have look'd and linger'd,
Altho' it stole away my heart,
Had been held up as one light-finger'd!
Your hand—where I have look'd and linger'd,
Altho' it stole away my heart,
Had been held up as one light-finger'd!
In melting verse your charms I drew,
The charms in which my muse delighted—
Alas! the lay, I thought was new,
Spoke only what had been indicted!
The charms in which my muse delighted—
Alas! the lay, I thought was new,
Spoke only what had been indicted!
Oh! when that form, a lovely one,
Hung on the neck its arms had flown to,
I little thought that you had run
A chance of hanging on your own too.
Hung on the neck its arms had flown to,
I little thought that you had run
A chance of hanging on your own too.
You said you pick'd me from the world,
My vanity it now must shock it—
And down at once my pride is hurl'd,
You've pick'd me—and you've pick'd a pocket!
My vanity it now must shock it—
And down at once my pride is hurl'd,
You've pick'd me—and you've pick'd a pocket!
Oh! when our love had got so far,
The banns were read by Dr. Daly,
Who asked if there was any bar—
Why did not some one shout, ‘Old Bailey?’
The banns were read by Dr. Daly,
Who asked if there was any bar—
Why did not some one shout, ‘Old Bailey?’
But when you rob'd your flesh and bones
In that pure white that angel garb is,
Who could have thought you, Mary Jones
Among the Joans that link with Darbies?
In that pure white that angel garb is,
Who could have thought you, Mary Jones
Among the Joans that link with Darbies?
And when the parson came to say,
My goods were yours, if I had got any,
And you should honour and obey,
Who could have thought—‘O Bay of Botany!’
My goods were yours, if I had got any,
And you should honour and obey,
Who could have thought—‘O Bay of Botany!’
But, oh,—the worst of all your slips
I did not till this day discover—
That down in Deptford's prison ships,
Oh, Mary! you've a hulking lover!
I did not till this day discover—
That down in Deptford's prison ships,
Oh, Mary! you've a hulking lover!
No. II
[He has shav'd off his whiskers and blacken'd his brows]
‘Love with a witness!’
He has shav'd off his whiskers and blacken'd his brows,
Wears a patch and a wig of false hair,—
But it's him—Oh it's him!—we exchanged lovers' vows
When I lived up in Cavendish Square.
Wears a patch and a wig of false hair,—
But it's him—Oh it's him!—we exchanged lovers' vows
When I lived up in Cavendish Square.
He had beautiful eyes, and his lips were the same,
And his voice was as soft as a flute—
Like a Lord or a Marquis he look'd, when he came
To make love in his master's best suit.
And his voice was as soft as a flute—
Like a Lord or a Marquis he look'd, when he came
To make love in his master's best suit.
If I lived for a thousand long years from my birth,
I shall never forget what he told;
How he lov'd me beyond the rich women of earth,
With their jewels and silver and gold!
I shall never forget what he told;
How he lov'd me beyond the rich women of earth,
With their jewels and silver and gold!
When he kiss'd me, and bade me adieu with a sigh,
By the light of the sweetest of moons,
Oh how little I dreamt I was bidding good-bye
To my Missis's tea-pot and spoons!
By the light of the sweetest of moons,
Oh how little I dreamt I was bidding good-bye
To my Missis's tea-pot and spoons!
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No. III
[We met—'twas in a mob—and I thought he had done me—]
‘I'd be a parody.’
—Bailey.
—Bailey.
We met—'twas in a mob—and I thought he had done me—
I felt—I could not feel—for no watch was upon me;
He ran—the night was cold—and his pace was unalter'd,
I too longed much to pelt—but my small-boned legs falter'd.
I wore my bran new boots—and unrivall'd their brightness;
They fit me to a hair—how I hated their tightness!
I call'd, but no one came, and my stride had a tether,
Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather!
I felt—I could not feel—for no watch was upon me;
He ran—the night was cold—and his pace was unalter'd,
I too longed much to pelt—but my small-boned legs falter'd.
I wore my bran new boots—and unrivall'd their brightness;
They fit me to a hair—how I hated their tightness!
I call'd, but no one came, and my stride had a tether,
Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather!
And once again we met—and an old pal was near him,
He swore, a something low—but 'twas no use to fear him;
I seized upon his arm, he was mine and mine only,
And stept—as he deserv'd—to cells wretched and lonely:
And there he will be tried—but I shall ne'er receive her,
The watch that went too sure for an artful deceiver;
The world may think me gay,—heart and feet ache together,
Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather.
He swore, a something low—but 'twas no use to fear him;
I seized upon his arm, he was mine and mine only,
And stept—as he deserv'd—to cells wretched and lonely:
And there he will be tried—but I shall ne'er receive her,
The watch that went too sure for an artful deceiver;
The world may think me gay,—heart and feet ache together,
Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather.
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