Ballads By William Makepeace Thackeray Part 34

Though you set in Vestminster surrounded by your crushers, Harrogint and habsolute like the Hortocrat of hall the Rushers, Yet there is a better vurld I'd have you for to know, Likewise a place vere the henimies of horgin-boys will go.

O you vickid HEROD without any pity!

London vithout horgin-boys vood be a dismal city.

Sweet SAINT CICILY who first taught horgin-pipes to blow, Soften the heart of this Magistrit that haggerywates us so!

Good Italian gentlemen, fatherly and kind, Brings us over to London here our horgins for to grind; Sends us out vith little vite mice and guinea-pigs also A popping of the Veasel and a Jumpin of JIM CROW.

And as us young horgin-boys is grateful in our turn We gives to these kind gentlemen hall the money we earn, Because that they vood vop up as wery wel we know Unless we brought our hurnings back to them as loves us so.

O MR. BRODERIP! wery much I'm surprise, Ven you take your valks abroad where can be your eyes?

If a Beak had a heart then you'd compryend Us pore little horgin-boys was the poor man's friend.

Don't you see the shildren in the droring-rooms Clapping of their little ands when they year our toons?

On their mothers' bussums don't you see the babbies crow And down to us dear horgin-boys lots of apence throw?

Don't you see the ousemaids (pooty POLLIES and MARIES), Ven ve bring our urdigurdis, smiling from the hairies?

Then they come out vith a slice o' cole puddn or a bit o' bacon or so And give it us young horgin-boys for lunch afore we go.

Have you ever seen the Hirish children sport When our velcome music-box brings sunshine in the Court?

To these little paupers who can never pay Surely all good horgin-boys, for G.o.d'S love, will play.

Has for those proud gentlemen, like a serting B--k (Vich I von't be pussonal and therefore vil not speak), That flings their parler-vinders hup von ve begin to play And cusses us and swears at us in such a wiolent way,

Instedd of their abewsing and calling hout Poleece Let em send out JOHN to us vith six-pence or a shillin apiece.

Then like good young horgin-boys avay from there we'll go, Blessing sweet SAINT CICILY that taught our pipes to blow.

LITTLE BILLEE.*

Air--"Il y avait un pet.i.t navire."

There were three sailors of Bristol city Who took a boat and went to sea.

But first with beef and captain's biscuits And pickled pork they loaded she.

There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, And the youngest he was little Billee.

Now when they got as far as the Equator They'd nothing left but one split pea.

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "I am extremely hungaree."

To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, "We've nothing left, us must eat we."

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "With one another we shouldn't agree!

There's little Bill, he's young and tender, We're old and tough, so let's eat he.

"Oh! Billy, we're going to kill and eat you, So undo the b.u.t.ton of your chemie."

When Bill received this information He used his pocket handkerchie.

"First let me say my catechism, Which my poor mamy taught to me."

"Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy, While Jack pulled out his snickersnee.

So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast, And down he fell on his bended knee.

He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment When up he jumps. "There's land I see:

"Jerusalem and Madagascar, And North and South Amerikee: There's the British flag a riding at anchor, With Admiral Napier, K.C.B."

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee; But as for little Bill he made him The Captain of a Seventy-three.

* As different versions of this popular song have been set to music and sung, no apology is needed for the insertion in these pages of what is considered to be the correct version.

THE END OF THE PLAY.

The play is done; the curtain drops, Slow falling to the prompter's bell: A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell.

It is an irksome word and task; And, when he's laughed and said his say, He shows, as he removes the mask, A face that's anything but gay.

One word, ere yet the evening ends, Let's close it with a parting rhyme, And pledge a hand to all young friends, As fits the merry Christmas time.*

On life's wide scene you, too, have parts, That Fate ere long shall bid you play; Good night! with honest gentle hearts A kindly greeting go alway!

Goodnight--I'd say, the griefs, the joys, Just hinted in this mimic page, The triumphs and defeats of boys, Are but repeated in our age.

I'd say, your woes were not less keen, Your hopes more vain than those of men; Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen At forty-five played o'er again.

I'd say, we suffer and we strive, Not less nor more as men, than boys; With grizzled beards at forty-five, As erst at twelve in corduroys.

And if, in time of sacred youth, We learned at home to love and pray, Pray Heaven that early Love and Truth May never wholly pa.s.s away.

And in the world, as in the school, I'd say, how fate may change and shift; The prize be sometimes with the fool, The race not always to the swift.

The strong may yield, the good may fall, The great man be a vulgar clown, The knave be lifted over all, The kind cast pitilessly down.

Who knows the inscrutable design?

Blessed be He who took and gave!

Why should your mother, Charles, not mine, Be weeping at her darling's grave?**

We bow to Heaven that will'd it so, That darkly rules the fate of all, That sends the respite or the blow, That's free to give, or to recall.

This crowns his feast with wine and wit: Who brought him to that mirth and state?

His betters, see, below him sit, Or hunger hopeless at the gate.

Who bade the mud from Dives' wheel To spurn the rags of Lazarus?

Come, brother, in that dust we'll kneel, Confessing Heaven that ruled it thus.

So each shall mourn, in life's advance, Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed; Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance, And longing pa.s.sion unfulfilled.

Amen! whatever fate be sent, Pray G.o.d the heart may kindly glow, Although the head with cares be bent, And whitened with the winter snow.

Come wealth or want, come good or ill, Let young and old accept their part, And bow before the Awful Will, And bear it with an honest heart, Who misses or who wins the prize.

Go, lose or conquer as you can; But if you fail, or if you rise, Be each, pray G.o.d, a gentleman.