« AnteriorContinuar »
All the people were astonish'd at the ginger-pop,
stop, The lady look'd at her silks--Bumps look'd for a
cloth; He was covered with confusion-she was covered with
froth. Bumps found that the crowd for a row was seeking, While the lady he was wiping he was threaten'd with
a licking ; So he hurried her away into the nearest shop, To clear her from the mob and the ginger-pop. Bumps saw that he had ruined quite a bran-new
dress, So he made some long apologies—he couldu't do less; He kept smoothing her down till she was almost dry, When the other cursed bottle in his pocket let fly. Poor Bumps stocd aghast with dismay and fear, At the mischief he was making by the working of the For he found he now had got into a cutler's shop, Where he play'd the very devil with the ginger-pop ! While the beer with a spurt kept fiz-fizzing out, Bumps to make the matters worse kept wiggle-wag.
gling about ; He kept firing away on all the blades in the shopE'en the daggers and the swords were subdued by his
pop. The scissors felt keenly the spluttering they bore, The knives had never met with such a w(h)etting
before : The tweezers and the snuffers—every razor in the
Bumps got the lady home in a cab, and then
her all his heart-and a new silk dress, For his love, like ginger-pop, soon began to effer
vesce; He at length “popp'd the question,” she his hopes
didn't stop, So he popp'd upon a wife with his ginger-pop.
LECTURED BY PA AND MA. CHARLES DIBDIN.]
[Music by DIBDIN. LECTURED by pa and ma o'er night,
Monday at ten quite vex'd and jealous ; Resolved in future to be right,
And never listen to the fellows: Stitch'd half a wristband, read the text,
Received a note from Mrs. Racket, I hate that woman, she sat next,
All church-time, to sweet Captain Clackit. Tuesday got scolded, did not care,
The toast was cold, 'twas past eleven ; I dreamt the Captain thro' the air
On Cupid's wings bore me to heaven : Pouted and dined, dress’d, look'd divine,
Made an excuse, got ma to back it; Went to the play, what joy was mine !
Talk'd loud, and laugh’d with Captain Clackit. Wednesday came down, no lark so gay :
“The girl's quite altered," said my mother. Cried Dad, “I recollect the day
When, dearee, thou wert such another." Danced, drew a landscape, skimm'd a play,
In the paper read that Widow Flackit To Gretna Green had run away,
The forward minx, with Captain Clackit.
Thursday fell sick, “ Pour soul, she'll dis!'
Five doctors came with lengthened faces : Each felt my pulse; “Ah me !" cried I,
“ Are these the promised Loves aud Graces Friday grew worse ; cried ma, in pain,
“Our day was fair; heaven do not black it! Where's your complaint, love ?"'_“In my brain.”
“What shall I give you !"_"Captain Clackit.'
Early next morn a nostrum came
Worth all their cordials, balms, and spices ; A letter, I had been to blame,
The Captain's truth brought on a crisis. Sunday, for fear of more delays,
Of a few clothes I made a packet, And Monday morn stept in a chaise,
And ran away with Captain Clackit.
A SUP OF GOOD WHISKY. ANONYMOU8.]
[Irish Air-"All Kings in our turn." A SUP of good whisky will make you glad ; Too much of the creatur' will make
you If you take it in reason, 'twill make you wise ; If you drink to excess, it will close up your eyes.
Yet father and mother,
And sister and brother,
Some preachers will tell you that whisky is bad ;
Both layman and brother,
In spite of this pother,
Some doctors will tell you 'twill hurt your health ;
Yet surgeon and doctor,
And lawyer and proctor,
If a soldier is drunk on his duty found,
For sergeant and drummer,
And likewise bis honour,
Will all take a sup in their turn. The Turks who arrived from the Porte sublime, All told us that drinking was held a great crime ! Yet, after their dinner, away they slunk, And tippled, so sly, till they got quite drunk.
For Sultan and Crommet,
And even Mahomet,
The Quakers will bid you from drink abstain,
For Stiff-back and Steady,
And Solomon's lady,
The Germans do say they can drink the most,
There each jovial fellow
Will drink till he's mellow,
KING RICHARD THE FIRST.
[EDWARD DRAPER ]
Ri tooral, looral, &c.
, or Blondell)—he
Ri tooral, looral, &c.
Meanwhile in lonely misery
[Air-“ Ole Joe.”]
He jumped for joy all round his cell!