That's the scamp that has done this scandalous I AM A FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. thing, I AM a friar of orders gray, And down in the valleys I take my way ; I pull not blackberry, haw, or hip, Good store of venison fills my scrip; My long bead-roll I merrily chant; And turned his bald head as much as to say, Where'er I walk no money I want ; “Pray be so good as to walk this way!” And why I'm so plump the reason I tell, – Slower and slower Who leads a good life is sure to live well. He limped on before, What baron or squire, Or knight of the shire, Lives half so well as a holy friar? But that is a pullet and clouted cream ; With a dainty bit of a warden-pie ; I'm clothed in sackcloth for my sin, With old sack wine I'm lined within ; A chirping cup is my matin song, And the vesper's bell is my bowl, ding dong. And, being thus coupled with full restitution, What baron or squire, Or knight of the shire, Lives half so well as a holy friar? JOHN O'KEEFE Was so changed in a moment, 't was really absurd: He grew sleek and fat; In addition to that, THE VICAR OF BRAY. [" The Vicar of Bray in Berkshire, England, was Simon Alleyn, of Allen, and held his place from 1540 to 1588. He was a Papist under But no longer it wagged with an impudent air, the reign of Henry the Eighth, and a Protestant under Edward the Sixth. He was a Papist again under Mary, and once more becane No longer he perched on the Cardinal's chair. a Protestant in the reign of Elizabeth. When this scandal to tbe He hopped now about gown was reproached for his versatility of religious creeds, and With a gait devout ; taxed for being a turn-coat and an inconstant changeling, as Fuller expresses it, he replied: "Not so, neither; for if I changed my At Matins, at Vespers, he never was out; religion, I am sure I kept true to my principle, which is to live and die the Vicar of Bray." - D'ISRAELI. And, so far from any more pilfering deeds, The idea seems to have been adapted to some changelings of a He always seemed telling the Confessor's beads. later date. In a note in Nichols's " Select Poems," 1733, VOL VIII. If any one lied, or if any one swore, p. 234, it is stated that "the song of the Vicar of Bray is said to have been written by an officer in Colonel Fuller', regiment, in Or slumbered in prayer-time and happened to the reign of King George the First. It is founded on an historical fact; and though it reflects no great honor on the hero of the poen, snore, is humorously expressive of the complexion of :he times, in the sucThat good Jackdaw cessive reigns from Charles the Second to George the First.") Would give a great “Caw!" In good King Charles's golden days, As much as to say, “Don't do so any more !" When loyalty no harın meant, While many remarked, as his manners they saw, A zealous high-churchman was I, That they “ never had known such a pious Jack And so I got preferment. To teach my flock I never missed : Kings were by God appointed, And lost are those that dare resist Or touch the Lord's anointed. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, The Conclave determined to make him a Saint. That whatsoever king shall reign, Andon newly made Saints and Popes, as you know, Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir. It's the custom at Rome new names to bestow, So they canonized him by the name of Jem Crow! RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. When royal James possessed the crown, (THOMAS INGOLDSBY, ESQ.) And popery grew in fashion, The penal laws I hooted down, And read the declaration ; Full well my constitution; And this is law that I'll maintain, etc. And he wore green “specs,” with a tortoise shell rim, And his hat was remarkably broad in the brim, And she was uncommonly fond of him, And they were a loving pair ! And the name and the fame Of the Knight and his Dame, Were everywhere hailed with the loudest acclaim. When William was our king declared, To ease the nation's grievance ; With this new wind about I steered, And swore to him allegiance ; Set conscience at a distance ; And this is law that I'll maintain, etc. When royal Anne became our queen, The Church of England's glory, Another face of things was seen, And I became a Tory ; I blamed their moderation ; And this is law that I'll maintain, etc. Now Sir Thomas the Good, Be it well understood, He would pore by the hour, O'er a weed or a flower, Or the slugs that come crawling out after a shower; Black-beetles and Bumble-bees, Blue-bottle flies And Moths, were of no small account in his eyes ; An“Industrious Flea" he'd by no means despise, While an “Old Daddy-long-legs," whose “long legs" and thighs Passed the common in shape or in color or size, He was wont to consider an absolute prize. Well, it happened one day, I really can't say The particular month ; but I think ’t was in May, 'T was, I know, in the Springtime, -- when “Nature looks gay,” As the Poet observes, and on tree-top and spray The dear little dickey-birds carol away ; When the grass is so green, and the sun is so bright, And all things are teeming with life and with light, — That the whole of the house was thrown into affright, For no soul could conceive what was gone with the Knight! When George in pudding-time came o'er, And moderate men looked big, sir, My principles I changed once more, And so became a Whig, sir ; And thus preferment I procured From our new faith's defender ; And almost every day abjured The pope and the pretender. And this is law that I'll maintain, etc. The illustrious house of Hanover, And Protestant succession, While they can keep possession : I nevermore will falter, And this is law that I'll maintain, etc. ANONYMOUS. THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY. It seems he had taken A light breakfast, – bacon, Anegg, — with a little broiled haddock, - at most A round and a half of some hot buttered toast, With a slice of cold sirloin from yesterday's roast. And then – let me see ! He had two, perhaps three, Cups (with sugar and cream) of strong gunpowder tea, With a spoonful in each of some choice eau de vie, Which with nine out of ten would perhaps dis agree. Mix “ black" with our “Hyson," Neither having the nerves of a bull or a bison, And both hating brandy like what some call “pison.” A DOMESTIC LEGEND OF THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE. "Hail, wedded love! mysterious tie!" Thomson - or Somebody. The Lady Jane was tall and slim, The Lady Jane was fair, And Sir Thomas, her lord, was stout of limb, And his cough was short, and his eyes were dim, 99 No matter for that, But, when she comes to," He had called for his hat, O, 't is shocking to view With the brim that I 've said was so broad and The sight which the corpse reveals ! so slat, Sir Thomas's body, And his “ specs " with the tortoise-shell rim, It looked so odd, — he and his cane Was half eaten up by the eels ! With the crutch-handled top, which he used to His waistcoat and huse, and the rest of his sustain clothes, His steps in his walks, and to poke in the shrubs Were all gnawled through and through! And the grass, when unearthing his worms and And out of each shoe his grubs. An eel they drew; Thus armed, he set out on a ramble, - alack ! And from each of his pockets they pulled out He set out, poor dear soul ! — but he never came two ! back ! And the gardener himself had secreted a few, As well we may suppose ; The morning dawned, – and the next, — and For when he came running to give the alarm the next, He had six in the basket that hung on his And all in the mansion were still perplexed ; arm. same, once more name. His own ; Up came running a man, at a deuce of a pace, Good Father John With that very peculiar expression of face Was summoned anon; Which always betokens dismay or disaster, Holy water was sprinkled, Crying out, - 'twas the gardener, — “O Ma'am! And little bells tinkled, we've found Master!" And tapers were lighted, “Where? where ?" screamed the lady ; and And incense ignited, And all night no one thought about going to bed. And Lady Jane was fair, specs " and his hat And, ere morning came, that winsome dame He'd gone poking his nose into this and to that, Had made up her mind, or what's much the When, close to the side Had thought about changing her An uncommon fine" tadpole, remarkably fat ! He stooped ; -- and he thought her And she said, with a pensive air, he had caught her! To Thompson the valet, while taking away, Got hold of her tail, —and to land almost brought When supper was over, the cloth and the her, tray, When — he plumped head and heels into, fifteen feet water ! I've ate ; but any So good ne'er tasted before !- They 're a fish, too, of which I'm remarkably fond. Poor dear ! HE'LL CATCH “Eels a many US SOME MORE !” RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. She sobbed and she sighed, she lamented and cried, SIR MARMADUKE. SIR MARMADUKE was a hearty knight, With the gardener ; they both their assistance Good man ! old man ! supplied, He's painted standing bolt upright, And managed to hold her up. With his hose rolled over his knee; (THUMAS INGOLDSBY. } His periwig 's as white as chalk, And on his fist he holds a hawk ; And he looks like the head Of an ancient family. Hell-to-split over the prairie ! I was almost froze with skeer; But we rousted up some torches, And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and wagon, Snowed under a soft white mound, Upsot, dead beat, - but of little Gabe No hide nor hair was found. His dining-room was long and wide, Good man ! old man ! And in other parts, d' ye see, And he looked like the head Of an ancient family. He never turned the poor from the gate, Good man ! old man ! Of his country's enemy. And so may every head GEORGE COLMAN. By this, the torches was played out, And me and Isrul Parr Went off for some wood to a sheepfold That he said was somewhar thar. We found it at last, and a little shed Where they shut up the lambs at night. We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, So warm and sleepy and white; And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, As peart as 'ever you see, “I want a chaw of terbacker, And that's what 's the matter of me." LITTLE BREECHES. A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCL. I don't go much on religion, I never ain't had no show; But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets And free-will, and that sort of thing, But I b'lieve in God and the angels, Ever sence one night last spring. How did he git thar ? Angels. He could never have walked in that storm. They jest scooped down and toted him To whar it was safe and warm. And bringing him to his own, JOHN HAY. THE COMET. I come into town with some turnips, And my little Gabe come along, No four-year-old in the county Could beat him for pretty and strong, Peart and chipper and sassy, Always ready to swear and fight, And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker, Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. The comet ! he is on his way, And singing as he flies ; The whizzing planets shrink before The spectre of the skies. And satellites turn pale, Ten billion leagues of tail ! The snow come down like a blanket As I passed by Taggart's store ; I went in for a jug of molasses And left the team at the door. I hearil one little squall, Went tean, Little Breeches and all. On, on by whistling spheres of light, He flashes and he flames ; He asks them not their names. I saw a poet dip a scroll Each moment in a tub; “ The Dream of Beelzebub." He could not see his verses burn, Although his brain was fried, And ever and anon he bent To wet them as they dried. I saw the scalding pitch roll down The crackling, sweating pines, And streams of smoke, like water-spouts, Burst through the rumbling mines. Such noise about the town ; The brakes went up and down. Whereas, on certain boughs and sprays Now divers birds are heard to sing, And sundry flowers their heads upraise, Hail to the coming on of Spring! The songs of those said birds arouse The memory of our youthful hours, As green as those said sprays and boughs, As fresh and sweet as those said flowers. The birds aforesaid — happy pairs - Love, 'mid the aforesaid boughs, inshrines In freehold nests; themselves their heirs, Administrators, and assigns. Where tender plaintiffs actions bring, – Season of frolic and of sport, Hail, as aforesaid, coming Spring! I saw a roasting pullet sit Upon a baking egg ; I saw a cripple scorch his hand Extinguishing his leg. I saw nine geese upon the wing Towards the frozen pole, And every mother's gosling fell Crisped to a crackling coal. I saw the ox that browsed the grass Writhe in the blistering rays, Was all a fiery blaze ; Bob through the bubbling brine ; I had been rash at mine. O, HAPPY, happy, thrice happy state, Of a pair of united lovers ! As mortality ever recovers ! |
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