Chapter 3

I felt as airy as a lark that
Skies it from the ground,
To think she'd walk wid me, poor chap,
Wid only forty pound!

She took me arm, an' thrapsed wid me,
All down be Sackville Sthreet,
An' colleens beautifully dhressed,
In two's and three's, we meet,
An' men that grinned, a greenish grin,
Of envy from their eye,
To see me wid that lady grand,
Like paycock marchin' by.

Till comin' to a lamp, I turned,
An' gazed into her eyes,
Me heart that minute took me throat
Wid lump of glad surprise,

Siz I, "Me jewel, thim two eyes,
Are sparklin' awful keen,
"I'm sure," siz I, "I've come across,
Me mother's Fairy Queen!"
"O Corney yis," siz she, "I am,
A Fairy Queen;" siz she,
"An' I can make yer fortune now,
If you'll just come with me."
Wid that, I ups and says "of coorse!"
As bowld as I could spake,
"An' sure I will me darlin', if
Its only for your sake."

Well, whin we passed the statutes white,
Up to O'Connell Brudge,
The Fairy Queen smiled up at me,
An' gev a knowin' nudge,
"Corney!" siz she, "I want a dhrink!"
"Do ye me dear?" siz I,
An' on the minute faith I felt,
Meself was shockin' dhry.

Well then she brought me coorsin off,
Down be the Liffy's walls,
An' up a narra gloomy sthreet,
Up to a Palace Halls!
An' there they wor, all splindid lit,
"Come in me love," siz she.
I thought me heart'ed brake, to hear
Her spake so kind to me!
Well in we wint, an' down we sat,
Behind a marvel schreen,
An' there we dhrank, of drink galore,
Me an' the Fairy Queen.
She spoke by alphabetic signs,
Siz she, "We'll have J.J.
An' whin we swalley'd that, siz she,
"L.L. is raal O.K."

We tossed them off like milk, siz she,
"At these we need'nt stick,
D. W. D.'s a quench you'll find,
A. I, an' up to Dick!"
Well thin she left the alphabet,
An' flying to the sky,
"The three star brand's the best" siz she,
"To sparkle up your eye,"
Thin "here!" says she "just taste Owld Tom,"
But augh! agin me grain
It wint! siz she "It's mum's the word,
We'll cure it, wid champagne!"
I never drank such sortin's, of
The drink, in all me life,
Signs on it, in the mornin', me
Digestion, was at strife!

At last, we qualified our drooth,
An' up she got, siz she,
"We'll just retire to private life,
So Corney, come wid me."
But just before I stood to go,
I siz quite aisy "Miss,
You might bestow poor Corney K.
One little simple kiss."

"Ah! Corney tibbey, sure," said she,
"Two if ye like, ye thrush!"
O have ye saw the blackberries,
Upon the brambly bush?
The Johnny Magory still is bright,
Whin all the flowers are dead,
Her hair, was like the blackberries!
Her dhress, Magory red!

O have you ever saunthered out
Upon a winther's night,
Whin the crispy frost, is on the ground,
An' all the stars, are bright?
Then have you bent your awe sthrick gaze,
There, up aginst the skies?
The stars are very bright, you think,
Well thim was just her eyes

Were you ever down at the strawberry beds,
An' seen them dhrowned in chrame?
Well that was her complexion, and
Her teeth, wor shockin' white!
An' the music of her laughin' chaff,
Was like a beggar's dhrame,
Whin he hears the silver jingle, and
His rags are out of sight!

I thought the dhrop of dhrink was free,
But throth I had to pay!
I thought it quare, but then I thought,
It was the fairy's way;
"Howld on" siz I, "she's thryin' me,
Have I an open heart,
Before she makes me fortune," so,
Begar! I took a start
Of reckless generosity,
An' flung me money round,
'Twas scatthered on the table! In
Her lap, an' on the ground!
I seen it glitter in the air,
Before me wondherin' eyes,
Like little yalla breasted imps,
All dhroppin from the skies!
O then I knew that it was threw,
She was a Fairy Queen,
The goold, came dhroppin'! whoppin'! hoppin'
The like was never seen!
I gave a whipping screech of joy!
Whin, wid a sudden whack,
Some hidden wizard, riz his wand,
An' sthruck me from the back,
Down came the clout upon the brain,
An' froze me senses quite,
An' over all me joy at once,
There shot the darkest night!

* * * * *

I knew no more, till I awoke,
An' found meself alone,
I thrust me hand, to grasp me purse,
Me forty pounds wor gone!
O then, with awful cursin', if
I didn't raise the scenes,
"Bad luck!" siz I, "to Leprechauns,
Bad scran, to Fairy Queens!
Bad luck to them, that spreads abroad,
Such shockin' lyin' tales,
Bad scran has me, that tears me hair,
An' forty pounds bewails!"
With that, I seen a man, come up,
A dark arch, marchin' thro',
As if he hadn't any work,
Particular to do.
He measured me, wid selfish eye,
As cat regards a rat,
An' whin he spoke, begor I found,
'Twas just his price at that!
Siz he "What's all this squealin' for?
What makes ye bawl?" siz he,
Siz he, "I'm a dissective, so,
You'll have to come wid me!"
Siz he, "Yer shouts wor almost loud
Enough, to crack the delph!
An' in the mornin' I must bring
Ye up, before himself!"
"Arrah! What for?" siz I, an' thin,
I towld him all me woe,
An' how I woke, an' found meself
Asleep, an' lyin' low.
I towld him of the whipsther, that
Had whipped me forty pound,
An' left me lyin' fast asleep,
In gutther, on the ground.
Then leerin' like, he turned, and siz,
"You're a nice boy! complate!
To go wid Fairy Queens, like that,
An' lose yer purse, so nate.
Corney!" siz he, "go home!" siz he,
"She might have sarved ye worse,
I'll thry me best, to ketch the Fay,
An' get you back yer purse.
But look! don't shout like that again,
It was a shockin' shout,
It sthruck me, 'twas a house a-fire!
You riz up such a rout.

I thought you'd wake me wife! she sleeps,
Down in a churchyard near!"
Wid that, the dark dissective turned,
An' bursted in a tear!
I dhribbled out a few meself,
Me brow, wid shame I bint,
An' like a lamb, from slaughter, slow,
Wid tottherin' steps I wint,
But never, never from that day,
Was any tidins' seen,
Of me owld purse, me forty pound!
Or of the Fairy Queen!

Then, whin I thought of Norah's wrath,
An' what a power she'd say,
Me fine black hair, riz on me skull,
An' grew all grizzle gray!
O never more, to Dublin town,
I'll come, to sell me pigs!
I walk a melancholy man,
Like one, that's got the jigs,
An' in the town of Limerick, if
You ever chance, to meet
A haggard man, wid batthered hat,
Come sthridin down the sthreet,
An' if he stops, by fits and starts,
An' stares at nothin' keen!
Say "there goes Corney, look he's mad!
He cotch a Fairy Queen."
And if you chance in Sackville Sthreet,
Or any other way,
To meet, all beautifully dhrest,
A lovely colleen gay;

An' if she chances on the name,
That you wor christened by,
An' laughs, as if she knew ye,
With a cute acquaintance eye,
An' if she takes your arm, an' siz,
That she's a Fairy Queen,
Start back in horror, shout aloud,

O woman am I green!
Am I before a doctor's shop,
Where coloured bottles be?
Is there a green light, on my face,
That you should spake to me?
Go home, O Fairy Queen, go home!
At once, an' holus bolus!
Remimber, Corney Keegan's purse,
An' think of the Dublin Polis

I WAS walking about, in a casual way,
Thro' the ferns, in Richmond Park,
'Twas just at the fringe of the twilight hour,
On the skirt, of the time called dark,
And the wind was rough, and I couldn't succeed,
To kindle my three-penny smoke,
When a gentleman stepped from behind a tree,
And coughed, and hemmed, and spoke:
"You'll pardon me, Sir, you're in want of a light,"
Said he, with a bow to me,
And straight producing a braided star,
He struck it against his knee,
And with an expression of much concern,
To see that my weed was right,
He manipulated the light himself,
With a courtesy most polite.

I am one, who is quickly impressed, and won,
By measure of courteous act,
So deeming it right, to appreciate,
In response of appropriate tact,
I spake to him thus, "It's rare that a man
In a gentleman's dress like thine,
Doth care to assist, the frivolous wants,
Of a miniature vice like mine,
So reckon it not, as a rudeness wrought,
Of an ignorant wish to know,
But I'd certainly like to learn the name,
Of the gent, who has touched me so!

Then he glittered a grin, from his cat-like eye,
Thro' a coal black lash on me,
And he bowed, with his lifted silk top hat,
"I'm the Devil himself!" quoth he.

Good gracious! yes, I was certainly struck,
So suddenly thus to be
With the Devil himself! but soon, or late,
He was bound to appear to me.

So screwing my nerves, to concert pitch,
To play up my soul, for wealth,
With a supplemental proviso made,
For excellent mortal health,
I offered to scribble my autograph,
In blood, old-storied style,
To deed, for a compensating line,
From his notable strong room pile.

But he looked on me, with a pitying glance,
I counted somewhat queer,
And answered me thus,--in a friendly way,
With a slight sarcastic leer.

IT'S a long time, Sir, I assure you, since
I endeavoured, to so combine,
My games of spoof, for the human soul,
In the bartering oofftish line.
I suffered by many a measly cheat,
When mortals made those sales,
You'll read of their shuffling knavish tricks,
Thro' the mediæval tales,
If you think, that by selling your soul to me,
Is the way to get rich, it ain't,
You'll have to become, a Devil yourself,
In the garb, of a modern Saint.
"It's the fashionable way, to play the game,
Of hypocritical spoof,
You have only to tailor your saintly robe,
To cover your tell tale hoof,
You have only to hypnotise mankind,
And teach them, to gaze on high,
And while you have mesmerised them thus,
With eyes, to the upward sky,

"You can plot, exploit, and sneak, and trick,
And cram your wallet, with wares,
And earthly stocks, as you boom the run,
On the New Jerusalem shares,
You can rob the widow, and orphan child;
But reputably go to church,
And if, by the clogging of circumstance,
Your pinched, in the doomdock lurch,
The greater the pile of swag, you've made,
The fewer the blanks, you'll draw,
From the lottery wheel, of the English bench,
In the name, of the English law.
It's merely a mode, of paying yourself,
In advance, a liberal wage,
For the government work, you'll have to do,
In the broad-arrow-branded stage.
Say thirty thousands of pounds, you filch,
Five years, is the time you'll do,
Six thousand a year, in advance, you see,
To enjoy, when you've pulled it thro'.
Or, seizing your pile, by a dextrous coup,
Before they have time, to look down,
From the castles, in the air,
You have built for them there,
You can take a foreign ticket from town.
"And tho' you are lagged, at the ends of the earth,
You'll still find a breach, or a flaw,
Whereby you can slip, thro' the quips, that confuse,
Extradition--international law.

"Now that is how I teach, the quickest way to cure,
Your impecuniosity complaint,
You must collar the swag, as a Devil yourself,
In the garb, of a modern saint.
There's another way to pinch, whereby you may keep,
Your character, apparently sound,
Go pray, and exhort, teach the vanity of wealth,
And pay, half-a-crown in the pound!

"Now bear it in mind, if you're wanting to make,
Let this, be your measureless plaint,
The misery of wealth, get a halo, and preach,
In the garb, of a modern Saint."

Again he lifted his silk top hat,
And bowing an adieu to me,
He vanished away, with a lordly crawl,
In the trunk, of the nearest tree,
And thus, were my mediæval hopes
Of wealth, by a caustic blow,
Dispersed, and a lesson of evil taught,
By the Devil, who touched me so.

I PICTURED out my passion,
In florid fretwork fashion,
Expostulating!
Waiting!
Stating,
Mating we must be,
And subtle thought, relating,
To scheme, of emigrating,
With bride, to land of Bashan,
Was exercising me;
When, peering like a picket,
Or a cricket,
From a thicket,
Thro' the wicket,
Came another, on the scene,
And we were three!
'Twas the spinster, in a hurried
Fit of minorhood, I married,
She succoured me
From bigamy,
Said she,
"Come home to tea!"
I went, and drank it boiling,--
A mug of strong Bohea!--
I drank it, without sugar,
A tannic dose, for me!

'TWAS an incident Matrimonial, the Probate Court the place,
And 'twas for the co-respondent, a most remarkable case,
For good was the leading counsel, and moral the words spake he,
And fashionable ladies listened, to Writ MacFee, Q.C.

He rose to his feet and setting his most magniloquent frown,
He fingered his brief for a moment, a moment, and laid it down,
Then out of his golden snuffbox, he powdered his pampered nose,
And then with a pull back rustle of silk, to its wonted pose,
He heliographed to the jury, a glitter of eyeful glee,
And as he surveyed the respondent, most rep-re-hen-siv-lee,
He mounted his golden pinc-nez, and on this wise spake he.
"Me Lud, and O gents of the Jury, it's a most remarkable case!
And I don't hesitate for a moment, my cause in your hands to place,
For O," said the counsellor, purring, with subtle seductive leer,
"I never beheld such a jury, in the length of my long career!
I assure you it makes it easy for an advocate like to me,
To open the most remarkable case _ver._ Tommins, L.R.C.P."

Then marking his condemnation, with voice like a double bass D.
"The co-respond' is a doctor, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.,
A leech of the muddiest water, a pill, that has given the sick,
An emetic of truth, a plaister of pitch, with a warrant to stick,
It's O when consumptive virtue, is treated by such, you see
The ruin, like that enacted by Tommins, L.R.C.P.

He was called to attend the Lady May Monica Pendigrew,
From a fit of the blues he roused her, and prettily pulled her
through,
But managed her like a pilot, who getting a treacherous grip,
Sails out into deeper water, to scuttle and sink the ship!
O gents, by æsthetical fraud, he played on the lady's mind,
With Shakespeare collar and fur, a sunflower, and such kind,
He called her too utterly too, and posed in a limpish style,
And droned in a minorly key, of love, like a fretwork file.
Me Lud, and O gentlemen, gents, the co-respond' may smile,
Your sympathy thus to win, by means of trover of guile,
But no! you will give him a check, whereby you will take your place,
As the most remarkable twelve, of the most remarkable case!"

'Twas thus, with vigour, and vim, and verve, and casuist glee,
The raftered roof re-echoed, the shouts of Writ MacFee,
While envious briefless Bees, admired his logic, and gist,
Accentuate note, and pause, well marked by his thumping fist,
He stood on the councillor's seat, with one of his feet--the left,
And the stuffy compression of air, with whirling silk he cleft,
And this, was his winding up, "O Father, Brother, and Son,
Oh this is a case, concerning each individual one,
And confident of your verdict, now into your hands I place,
O gentlemen, gents of the Jury, this most remarkable case!"

With quiver of deep emotion, one hypnothetical glance,
He photophoned to the jury, at Tommins he looked askance,
Then daintily mopped his forehead, some virtuous beads of heat,
He sopped in his red bandana, and then he resumed his seat.

Then "Oh!" said the ladies in court,
"Wasn't that lawyer a treat?"
Concussion of parasols, sticks, hands, and stamping feet,
Till the usher expostulated, aloud in a startling shout,
"Silence!!!"
And his Ludship sternly threatened, to bundle the audience out,

Poor Tommins had then to listen to evidence from the box,
And now, and again, it dealt him, a stagger of nasty knocks;
Acquaintances there subpoenad, identification swore,
And others, who sneaked the keyhole, of sitting apartment door.
What mattered the osculation, with which he smacked the book,
A fig for his indignation, a jot for his injured look,
The jury, and judge, decided the damage, and costs, to be
Three thousand pounds, to the client of Writ MacFee, Q.C.

* * * * *

THE tweezers of time, had sparsed his hair, when Tommins, L.R.C.P.
Was mooning around, to a neighbouring square, to join in an
evening tea,
When a tremulous maiden, checked his steps, and cried him,
"O Mister Man,
Me mother's afeered, that the two pair back, is goin' to kick
the can!
O Mister Medical Sir, he's sick, an' owin' a quarter's rent,
An' that's the most, of the cause for why, of the hurry, that
I was sent,
O Mister Medical Man, Sir please, O please Sir folly me quick,
You might be able to worry him thro' from the fit of the
stiffnin' sick!
Oh! come Sir, please Sir, do Sir come,
O hurry an' come with me quick!"
From sympathetic professional heart, for indigent sick alway,
He gave a positive kind response, to the girl, who thus did pray,
And on thro' court, and alley, and lane, he followed her devious
track,
Then mounting a rickety deal wood stair, he entered a two pair back,
And there, in the glim of a halfpenny dipt, he gazed on a ghastly man,
And he counted his pulse, said the girl "Do you think he's likely to
kick the can?"
The sick man rose to an elbow prop, at Tommins, to blink and stare!
He seemed an anatomy, made for show, of eyes, and nose, and hair,
He peered awhile thro' the starving glim, and then, with a
moan cried he,

"O God, have you come to haunt me here, John Tommins, L.R.C.P.?
O is it with pills, or senna and salts, your 'shake up the bottle'
and mess
Of slops, to avenge for the deed I've done? have mercy and
I'll confess!
O pester me not to swallow your stuff, I will not allow you to bleed!
O spare me Tommins, I'm guilty, guilt, is what I'm about to plead!"

The doctor shrank with a searching gaze, that clung to the
startled ghost,
In doubt awhile, for the rounded lines of his manhood's prime
were lost,
Till memory striking the evil past, the doctor's eye did trace,
With a shock to his heart, the Writ MacFee of the most remarkable case!
His memory jarred on the Probate Court, with all its sorrowful shame,
Disastrous check, to his early hopes, of honor, and medical fame,
And with a potion of pity, and hate, he knew the furrowy face
Of the grim, of the Writ MacFee, Q.C., of the most remarkable case.
The bloom of his pampered nose was gone, 'twas shrivelled,
and pinched, and shrunk!
His adipose peach of cheek, was fled, 'twas lean, and withered,
and sunk,
A derelict there; by the prosperous port of wealth, and power,
and place,
He lay the identical Writ MacFee, of the most remarkable case!

"O spare me doctor! for I'll confess,--I should have been in
your place.
As the treacherous co-respondent, of the most remarkable case,
T'was I, was the homestead wrecker, but never as Writ MacFee,
I played me, a knave's deception, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.!
I bought from a needy super, the beard, moustaches, and wig,
I managed to coach my tailor, to model me in your rig,
And thus I received a welcome, to lunch, and dinner, and tea,
As Tommins the medical doctor, but never as Writ MacFee.
O Doctor Tommins have mercy! I beg to legacy thee,
With thirty tickets of pawn to name, of Writ MacFee, Q.C.
In a brief bag under the bed, tied up in a worn-out wig,
You will find a memento there, of mock æsthetical rig,
The spats and the collar and vest, I wore when I went to see,
The Lady Monica Pendigrew, as Tommins, L.R.C.P.
O Doctor Tommins forgive! the cost and the foul disgrace,
Of debt, for the illsome guilt, of the most remarkable case,
O Doctor Tommins have grace!" he rose with a greedy stare,
And gripped with his reedy fists, the mat of his weedy hair!
Then moaning a hungry sigh, for life, with a choking breath,
He fell with accusing cry, "O Tommins you've brought me death!
But I won't have a pauper's coffin! so give me a decent show--
Whew!--eh--what's this? O thunder thun--un--der and lightning----Oh!
Ah!--mercy me Lud! O mercy! thun--un--der an' light--ning----Oh!!
It's a sine die, the morrow for me, Ah! mercy me Lud, Oh!----Oh!"

The girl ran out of the two pair back, and down the stairs she ran,
With shouts, as she took three steps at a time, "The lodger
has kicked the can!
Mother, O mother, we've lost the rent, the lodger has kicked
the can!
It's just what you said of the two pair back, he's gone an
he's kicked the can!"

SAID she, "The Parkinses have gone, and all the Doolys, too,
The Mcriartys, and the Dunns, and Mrs. old MacHugh;
The Dalys and Fitzpatricks, with all their kin, and kinds,
Have mounted crumpled papers, on all their window blinds.
Ah! stop that old piano, you ding it all the day,
It's only when your pupils are here, you make it pay;
And all your pupils' parents, and all their kin, and kinds,
Have all got crumpled papers, on all their cotton blinds."
He stopped the old piano, and "Vot of zat?" said he,
"Regarding which, we'll have to do exact the same," said she.
"For if we don't, we'll be the talk for many a day to come,
That when all others went abroad, the Zazels kept at home.
It's positively foolish, affects your daughter's hopes--"
"Vel, zhere," said he, "go pack ze thronk, I'll tie it vit ze ropes;
And you discharge ze servong, ze moment zat you find,
She's pinned ze crumpled papers, on all ze cotton blind:
And put ze gossip on her tongue, for Svitzerland ve sail,
Ze-morrow in ze Dover boat, vot brings ze voreign mail;
And say, its Oh, so secret, by shings, but she vill blow
Ze news, around ze town, until ze all ze people know."

* * * * *

The Dover boat had started, when, lo! prospecting round,
A man upon the windows, those crumpled papers found.

"Hello!" said he, "such houses are always left for me,"
And crept into the fanlight, and foraged round with glee.
He stole away the silver, he stole away the clocks,
He augured out the secret, of the children's savings' box;
He laughed, and he did chuckle, and cackling "Ha!" said he,
"The men who leave their houses thus, are men who toil for me."
Alas! that in my ballads, I have to tune my song,
To many flats, and minors, to show where sharps go wrong.

He donned a suit, next morning,
And sought an auctioneer--
"I'm ordered out to China, so harken, and look here;
Bring up your ivory hammer to the house, where you will see,
The blinds in crumpled papers, and cant the lot for me."
He auctioned off the carpets, the suites of every room,
He canted to a builder, the villa for its doom;
He made him sign a docket, to take down every brick,
Within the shortest notice, so he commenced it quick.
They first upset the chimneys, and then unstitched the slates,
They lifted off the rafters, and rooted out the grates;
The door, and window casings, they took in several hauls,
And carted off, the debris of bricks, that made the walls.

At length a workman picking with crowbar, in the rear,
Let fall his pipe in terror, his knees went loose with fear,
A chill of woe electric, begirt his heart, like lead,
He found a row of corpses, and every corpse was dead!

I've sketched him, with the crowbar, and falling pipe, to show
His awful fright, and sorrow, the fact is, such a blow
Might paralize his senses, unfit him for his trade--
I hope some kindly ladies, will have collections made.
But yet a glamoured beauty was on them all, so nice,
He felt like pins and needles, in glass of strawberry ice,
He shambled round a corner, "O Constable!" he said,
"I've found a row of corpses, and every corpse is dead!"
I like that honest fellow, tho' poor, with eye forlorn,
Said he, "O Mister Pleeceman, I wish I wasn't born"--
I've sought again to sketch him, above their ghastly rest,
He indicates a label, on every corpse's breast.

'Twas down an empty cellar, below the bottle shelves,
They looked as they were sleeping, in fact, they looked themselves,

The daughters of Herr Zazel, the wife of Zazel, and
The Pleeceman asked for Zazel, was he in Switzerland?
The oldest native, answered a deputating clutch
Of specials, that there never before did happen such,
And so they wrote sensations, and from the civic band,
A posse of detectives, went scoot for Switzerland.

The crowner's Morgue was opened, the jurymen were caught,
And every man protested, although he didn't ought,
They went to view the corpses.

"Mein gott, vots them?" said one,
"Votever has there happened, vots been, and gone, and done?
I could'nt spare ze money, avay mit me, so many,
And so tinks I, I'll mesmer zem all, I vont brings any,
I wraps 'em up mit labels, vots tied upon zem zare,
Ven I comes home, to vake 'em, and sorts 'em up mit care.
I vos in my purse, only ze cash enough to stand,
For vot you calls, von single man, avay in Svitzerland.
And so I mesmerised my vife, my daughters, von by von,
And now I'll vake 'em all, and zen, by shings, you zee me run!"

He party pumped his arms, he made a maze of passes,
With flashing eyes of flame, that lit his pinc nez glasses.
He clawed with his phalanges as he were going to seize
Some hidden ghost, when lo! at length, his wife began to sneeze,

His wife commenced the sneezing, the girls took up the que,
"Now zee me run, or you vill find, too moosh vor me to do,"
He cried, and off he started, and took the tram for home,
When peering thro' the twilight, of autumn's evening gloam,
He saw a shocking poster, that curdled up his blood,
"This ground to let for building," on which his house had stood,
He laughed a weird, and woful, idiotic laugh at fate,
He took a second tram-car, and sought a barber straight,
And sitting down, he uttered a low despairing groan,
"I'm vot you calls vor Bedlam, so shaves me to ze bone!!"

I MADE him quite at home,
In a villa just by Rome,--
An Italian, of the antient noble style,--
But I saw him 'neath a star,
And the tink of his guitar,
Was an irritating thing, that made me smile,
His object, was my spouse for to beguile,
But when he caught it hot,
With sporting gun, and shot,
He took a flying spring, across a stile!
His object, was my spouse for to beguile.

"I'M the Mate," quoth he, "Of the 'Mary Anne,'"
As she opened the door to him,
And I'm all the way from the state of New York,
With a present, I've got from Jim!"

"O dear!" said she, "It's a pleasure to see
A friend, who has known my son,
We've a party, enjoying the evening tea,
And you're just in time for fun."

"Ah! thank you," said he, "I would like to explain,
The chest, is a cumbersome weight,
I'd have brought it myself; but I hadn't the dimes,
To cover the cost of the freight.

"It's a matter of seventeen shillings and six,
But you see, I am one of the crew,
I'd have paid it myself, for sake of your son,
If I could have lifted my screw."

"Ah! Jim was the very best pal that I knew,"
She got out the cash for him,
"Now hang up your hat, and come in to the tea,
And tell us a lot about Jim."

He hung up his hat, and went in to the tea,
Said he to a girl, who was there,
"You're the livin' dead image of my chum Jim,
Regardin' yer figure, and hair."

Said he to another, "Yer like yer mother,
But still the expression of Jim,
Is a playin' around yer beautiful smile,
A perfeck sister of him.

"I guess you are soft, on the ring that I wear,"
And he 'splayed his horney fist,
"I'd like you to wear it, for honor of Jim,
'Twould almost bangle your wrist!

"For savin' his wife, from a shark, I got
The trinket, at Scooperaboo,
From a Monarch, who gave it me, out of his nose,
I'm proud to present it to you.