REFORM IN THE HOME DEPARTMENT.
[Tune-"The New-Rigged Ship."
SIR JOHN had been leading a life of high feeding,
And by his excesses had brought on distresses;
And so much involved that he therefore resolv'd
On reform in the home department.
His mind made up and to it he goes,
But till he tries there's no man knows
What int'rests there are to oppose
Reform in the home department.
A lower establishment-thorough retrenchment,
Dismission-economy-dock every salary;
Make little do for us-nothing superfluous,
All in the home department.
Sir John's resolution put all in confusion.
His lady respected was speaker elected,
And said, "You, my lord, are now quite out of order,
Reforming the home department.
Your proposition I applaud,
But it must not be done by fraud
You ought, sir, first begin abroad,
And not in the home department."
A lower establishment, &c.
Sir John then explain'd, and permission he gain'd
To continue his motion and argue each notion;
So told them his will and each clause of a bill
For reforming the home department.
They were to have less dresses to wear,
And house expenditure every year
To be reduced-"Oh, hear, hear, hear!"
Resounded the home department.
A lower establishment, &c.
When the noble reformer, midst plaudit and murmur,
Had ended his motion, oh, then came an ocean
Of words full of war, some against and some for
A reform in the home department,
Some said, "The question's out of season,"
And some, "'Twas perfectly in reason."
While others thought it worse than treason,
Reforming the home department.
A lower establishment, &c.
With a shrug and grimace, and alarm'd for his place, Black Johnny, the footman, below, smoking hot, ran, Where massa's endeavour put all in a fever,
Who were in the kitchen department.
"Oh, cookey, cookey! what d'ye tink? To night I shall not sleep a wink,
For massa now is on the brink
Of reforming the home apartment."
A lower establishment, &c.
"What will," said the cook, after giving a look
As awful as thunder, "he do next, I wonder?
He ought to be basted-there is nothing wasted,
I'm sure, in the home department."
"I tell oo, cookey, what he say—
We must all live upon half-pay."
'Why then his dinner he'll have each day Half-cook'd in the home department."
A lower establishment, &c.
Then Thomas, the coachman, with look of reproach on
His three-corner'd castor, said, "I think that master
Shows bad horsemanship, and he should have the whip
From the whole of the home department.
Why, what the deuce is he driving at?
I will not ride with him, that's flat,
For I think it is a 'shocking bad hat,'
Reforming the home department."
A lower establishment, &c.
My lady, the speaker, the question the quicker
To bring to decision, now pressed a division;
But found in the sequel the votes were all equal
Both sides of the home department.
The speaker's casting vote must go
To the opposition side, and so
My lady said, "There shall be no
Reform in the home department.
No lower establishment, neither retrenchment,
Dismission-economy-docking of salary;
Make little do for us-it was quite superfluous
Reforming the home department."
I SING of a maid, who was, 'tis said,
As charming as charms could make her;
Much did she shine in the upholstery line,
And her name was Margery Baker.
She had always the art of dressing so smart,
For a duchess at least you'd take her;
And somehow or other she stole the heart
Of a gay young cabinet-maker.
Her auburn hair, when it flowed unfixed,
Like rich festoons each curl was,
Her cheeks were rosewood and ivory mixed,
Each tooth like mother-o'-pearl was;
Her polished arms and her well-turned neck
Might have moved the heart of a Quaker;
"What a piece of bed-furniture she would make !"
Says the gay young cabinet-maker.
The cabinet-maker she found was a beau
Who in wedlock soon would prove a joiner,
But she'd got an old sweetheart called "Dismal Joe,"
Who vowed he'd never resign her;
Now, you should know, this Dismal Joe
Was a grave-looking undertaker ;
It was quite in his line to part lovers-and so
He tried hard with the cabinet-maker.
Tho' this undertaker oft-times was mute,
Not mute was he to Miss Baker;
"Why," says he, "I've more love, and more money to boot,
Than your favourite cabinet-inaker.
When folks go to pot I'm called in with the bier,
And you know that an undertaker
Has got most to do in the dead time of year,
When you'd starve with your cabinet-maker."
Thus Joe went on with his tempting tales:
"Why," says he, "if my business increases,
The hatbands and gloves what I gets as vails
Would supply you with gowns and pelisses.”
But all his vails availed him not,
To love he couldn't make her;
'Cause why she'd a much greater fancy got
For the gay young cabinet-maker.
Now, the cabinet-maker oft called on the maid
Where she lodged, at the house of a baker,
And where, one night, he was watch'd and waylaid
By his rival--the poor undertaker.
Poor Joe, like a mute, kept the door with a frown,
When it chanced that a journeyman baker
Came out in the dark, and Joe knocked him down, For he thought 'twas the cabinet maker.
'Twas vain that poor Joe now acknowledged his fault,
For a "Peeler" was called by a neighbour,
He was had up next day at Bow-street for assault
And sent up for a month, with hard labour.
"Ah! now," says Joe, "I'm certain to lose
My beautiful Margery Baker :
She's got me in 'quod,' and now in a noose
She'll be getting the cabinet-maker."
Poor Joe was right for they soon did meet
To get wed-there was nothing to stay 'em,
For they both were employed in Oxford-street,
At the famed house of Jackson and Graham;
She proves most kind, and he loves most true,
And swears he will never forsake her;
And a neat piece of furniture's Margery too,
With her gay young cabinet-maker.
CHARLES DIBDIN.]
MRS. RUNNINGTON wore a wig
Contriv'd to peep at a man,
And every feature to twig,
As commode as the sticks of a fan;
For the book of her labour and cares
Now drew pretty near the last page;
And this twig had a few grizzly hairs
That escap'd from the ravage of age.
Mr. Doddington-ah! a nice man!
Rather old, and a little a prig,
Fell in ecstasy, stark staring mad,
With sweet Mistress Runnington's wig!
Mr. Doddington wore a wig,
To hide his poor head so crazy— 'Twas neither too little nor big,
Nor so much a wig as a jasey:
But he wheez'd pretty much with a cough,
And, being long since past his prime,
He look'd, when the jasey was off,
Exactly the figure of Time.
Mrs. Runnington fell in the snare,
Thus laid by this amorous sprig,
Believing 'twas natural hair,
As did he Mrs. Runnington's wig.
He kiss'd her, the bargain to strike
For they both had agreed on the match,
When the wirework of her vandyke
Caught the buckle that fastened his scratch.
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