Part 13

“Just raise your hands over your pretty heads—so— Right down to the bottom you’re certain to go. Ta! ta! I’m afraid we shall not meet again”— For the truly courageous are truly humane.

Brave ALUM was picked up the very next day— A man-o’-war sighted him smoking away; With hunger and cold he was ready to drop, So they sent him below and they gave him a chop.

O reader, or readress, whichever you be, You weep for the crew who have sunk in the sea? O reader, or readress, read farther, and dry The bright sympathetic ka-bob in your eye.

That ship had a grapple with three iron spikes,— It’s lowered, and, ha! on a something it strikes! They haul it aboard with a British “heave-ho!” And what it has fished the drawing will show.

There was WILSON, and PARKER, and TOMLINSON, too— (The first was the captain, the others the crew)— As lively and spry as a Malabar ape, Quite pleased and surprised at their happy escape.

And ALUM, brave fellow, who stood in the fore, And never expected to look on them more, Was really delighted to see them again, For the truly courageous are truly humane.

SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO

THIS is SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, Last of a noble race, BARNABY BAMPTON, coming to woo, All at a deuce of a pace. BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, Here is a health to you: Here is wishing you luck, you elderly buck— BARNABY BAMPTON BOO!

The excellent women of Tuptonvee Knew SIR BARNABY BOO; One of them surely his bride would be, But dickens a soul knew who. Women of Tuptonvee, Here is a health to ye For a Baronet, dears, you would cut off your ears, Women of Tuptonvee!

Here are old MR. and MRS. DE PLOW (PETER his Christian name), They kept seven oxen, a pig, and a cow— Farming it was their game. Worthy old PETER DE PLOW, Here is a health to thou: Your race isn’t run, though you’re seventy-one, Worthy old PETER DE PLOW!

To excellent MR. and MRS. DE PLOW Came SIR BARNABY BOO, He asked for their daughter, and told ’em as how He was as rich as a Jew. BARNABY BAMPTON’S wealth, Here is your jolly good health: I’d never repine if you came to be mine, BARNABY BAMPTON’S wealth!

“O great SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO” (Said PLOW to that titled swell), “My missus has given me daughters two— AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL!” AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL, I hope you’re uncommonly well: You two pretty pearls—you extremely nice girls— AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL!

“AMELIA is passable only, in face, But, oh! she’s a worthy girl; Superior morals like hers would grace The home of a belted Earl.” Morality, heavenly link! To you I’ll eternally drink: I’m awfully fond of that heavenly bond, Morality, heavenly link!

“Now NELLY’S the prettier, p’raps, of my gals, But, oh! she’s a wayward chit; She dresses herself in her showy fal-lals, And doesn’t read TUPPER a bit!” O TUPPER, philosopher true, How do you happen to do? A publisher looks with respect on your books, For they do sell, philosopher true!

The Bart. (I’ll be hanged if I drink him again, Or care if he’s ill or well), He sneered at the goodness of MILLY THE PLAIN, And cottoned to VOLATILE NELL! O VOLATILE NELLY DE P.! Be hanged if I’ll empty to thee: I like worthy maids, not mere frivolous jades, VOLATILE NELLY DE P.!

They bolted, the Bart. and his frivolous dear, And MILLY was left to pout; For years they’ve got on very well, as I hear, But soon he will rue it, no doubt. O excellent MILLY DE PLOW, I really can’t drink to you now; My head isn’t strong, and the song has been long, Excellent MILLY DE PLOW!

THE MODEST COUPLE

WHEN man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye, I always droop my own—I am the shyest of the shy. I’m also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns, For modesty’s a quality that womankind adorns.

Whenever I am introduced to any pretty maid, My knees they knock together, just as if I were afraid; I flutter, and I stammer, and I turn a pleasing red, For to laugh, and flirt, and ogle I consider most ill-bred.

But still in all these matters, as in other things below, There is a proper medium, as I’m about to show. I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try To carry on as PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH.

Betrothed they were when very young—before they’d learnt to speak (For SARAH was but six days old, and PETER was a week); Though little more than babies at those early ages, yet They bashfully would faint when they occasionally met.

They blushed, and flushed, and fainted, till they reached the age of nine, When PETER’S good papa (he was a Baron of the Rhine) Determined to endeavour some sound argument to find To bring these shy young people to a proper frame of mind.

He told them that as SARAH was to be his PETER’S bride, They might at least consent to sit at table side by side; He begged that they would now and then shake hands, till he was hoarse, Which SARAH thought indelicate, and PETER very coarse.

And PETER in a tremble to the blushing maid would say, “You must excuse papa, MISS BLIGH,—it is his mountain way.” Says SARAH, “His behaviour I’ll endeavour to forget, But your papa’s the coarsest person that I ever met.

“He plighted us without our leave, when we were very young, Before we had begun articulating with the tongue. His underbred suggestions fill your SARAH with alarm; Why, gracious me! he’ll ask us next to walk out arm-in-arm!”

At length when SARAH reached the legal age of twenty-one, The Baron he determined to unite her to his son; And SARAH in a fainting-fit for weeks unconscious lay, And PETER blushed so hard you might have heard him miles away.

And when the time arrived for taking SARAH to his heart, They were married in two churches half-a-dozen miles apart (Intending to escape all public ridicule and chaff), And the service was conducted by electric telegraph.

And when it was concluded, and the priest had said his say, Until the time arrived when they were both to drive away, They never spoke or offered for to fondle or to fawn, For he waited in the attic, and she waited on the lawn.