More Bab Ballads Part 16

"The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms, Have all run away from the summons to arms; They haven't the pluck of a pigeon--I'll go And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!"

Old TIMOTHY tried it and found it succeed: That day he caused many French noses to bleed; Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay, And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.

He took care to abstain from employing his fist On the old and the crippled, for they might resist; A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast, But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.

Old TIM and Old PAUL, with the list of their foes, Prostrated themselves at their EMILY'S toes: "Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?"

And EMILY answered and EMILY said:

"Old TIM has thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores, Who ought to be guarding their cities and sh.o.r.es; Old PAUL has made little chaps' noses to bleed-- Old PAUL has accomplished the pluckier deed!"

Ballad: The Mystic Selvagee

Perhaps already you may know SIR BLENNERHa.s.sET PORTICO?

A Captain in the Navy, he-- A Baronet and K.C.B.

You do? I thought so!

It was that Captain's favourite whim (A notion not confined to him) That RODNEY was the greatest tar Who ever wielded capstan-bar.

He had been taught so.

"BENBOW! CORNWALLIS! HOOD!--Belay!

Compared with RODNEY"--he would say-- "No other tar is worth a rap!

The great LORD RODNEY was the chap The French to polish!

"Though, mind you, I respect LORD HOOD; CORNWALLIS, too, was rather good; BENBOW could enemies repel, LORD NELSON, too, was pretty well-- That is, tol-lol-ish!"

SIR BLENNERHa.s.sET spent his days In learning RODNEY'S little ways, And closely imitated, too, His mode of talking to his crew-- His port and paces.

An ancient tar he tried to catch Who'd served in RODNEY'S famous batch; But since his time long years have fled, And RODNEY'S tars are mostly dead: Eheu fugaces!

But after searching near and far, At last he found an ancient tar Who served with RODNEY and his crew Against the French in 'Eighty-two, (That gained the peerage).

He gave him fifty pounds a year, His rum, his baccy, and his beer; And had a comfortable den Rigged up in what, by merchantmen, Is called the steerage.

"Now, JASPER"--'t was that sailor's name-- "Don't fear that you'll incur my blame By saying, when it seems to you, That there is anything I do That RODNEY wouldn't."

The ancient sailor turned his quid, Prepared to do as he was bid: "Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin, You've done away with 'swifting in'-- Well, sir, you shouldn't!

"Upon your spars I see you've clapped Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped.

I would not christen that a crime, But 'twas not done in RODNEY'S time.

It looks half-witted!

Upon your maintop-stay, I see, You always clap a selvagee!

Your stays, I see, are equalized-- No vessel, such as RODNEY prized, Would thus be fitted!

"And RODNEY, honoured sir, would grin To see you turning deadeyes in, Not UP, as in the ancient way, But downwards, like a cutter's stay-- You didn't oughter; Besides, in seizing shrouds on board, Breast backstays you have quite ignored; Great RODNEY kept unto the last Breast backstays on topgallant mast-- They make it tauter."

SIR BLENNERHa.s.sET "swifted in,"

Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin To strip (as told by JASPER KNOX) The iron capping from his blocks, Where there was any.

SIR BLENNERHa.s.sET does away, With selvagees from maintop-stay; And though it makes his sailors stare, He rigs breast backstays everywhere-- In fact, too many.

One morning, when the saucy craft Lay calmed, old JASPER toddled aft.

"My mind misgives me, sir, that we Were wrong about that selvagee-- I should restore it."

"Good," said the Captain, and that day Restored it to the maintop-stay.

Well-practised sailors often make A much more serious mistake, And then ignore it.

Next day old JASPER came once more: "I think, sir, I was right before."

Well, up the mast the sailors skipped, The selvagee was soon unshipped, And all were merry.

Again a day, and JASPER came: "I p'r'aps deserve your honour's blame, I can't make up my mind," said he, "About that cursed selvagee-- It's foolish--very.

"On Monday night I could have sworn That maintop-stay it should adorn, On Tuesday morning I could swear That selvagee should not be there.

The knot's a rasper!"

"Oh, you be hanged," said CAPTAIN P., "Here, go ash.o.r.e at Caribbee.

Get out--good bye--shove off--all right!"

Old JASPER soon was out of sight-- Farewell, old JASPER!

Ballad: The Cunning Woman

On all Arcadia's sunny plain, On all Arcadia's hill, None were so blithe as BILL and JANE, So blithe as JANE and BILL.

No social earthquake e'er occurred To rack their common mind: To them a Panic was a word-- A Crisis, empty wind.

No Stock Exchange disturbed the lad With overwhelming shocks-- BILL ploughed with all the shares he had, JANE planted all her stocks.

And learn in what a simple way Their pleasures they enhanced-- JANE danced like any lamb all day, BILL piped as well as danced.

Surrounded by a twittling crew, Of linnet, lark, and thrush, BILL treated his young lady to This sentimental gush:

"Oh, JANE, how true I am to you!

How true you are to me!

And how we woo, and how we coo!

So fond a pair are we!

"To think, dear JANE, that anyways.

Your chiefest end and aim Is, one of these fine summer days, To bear my humble name!"

Quoth JANE, "Well, as you put the case, I'm true enough, no doubt, But then, you see, in this here place There's none to cut you out.

"But, oh! if anybody came-- A Lord or any such-- I do not think your humble name Would fascinate me much.

"For though your mates, you often boast.

You distance out-and-out; Still, in the abstract, you're a most Uncompromising lout!"

Poor BILL, he gave a heavy sigh, He tried in vain to speak-- A fat tear started to each eye And coursed adown each cheek.

For, oh! right well in truth he knew That very self-same day, The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO Was coming there to stay!