SIR MACKLIN was a priest severe In conduct and in conversation, It did a sinner good to hear Him deal in ratiocination.
He could in every action show Some sin, and nobody could doubt him.He argued high, he argued low, He also argued round about him.
He wept to think each thoughtless youth Contained of wickedness a skinful, And burnt to teach the awful truth, That walking out on Sunday's sinful.
"Oh, youths," said he, "I grieve to find The course of life you've been and hit on - Sit down," said he, "and never mind The pennies for the chairs you sit on.
"My opening head is 'Kensington,' How walking there the sinner hardens, Which when I have enlarged upon, I go to 'Secondly' - its 'Gardens.'
"My 'Thirdly' comprehendeth 'Hyde,' Of Secresy the guilts and shameses; My 'Fourthly' - 'Park' - its verdure wide - My 'Fifthly' comprehends 'St.James's.'
"That matter settled, I shall reach The 'Sixthly' in my solemn tether, And show that what is true of each, Is also true of all, together.
"Then I shall demonstrate to you, According to the rules of WHATELY, That what is true of all, is true Of each, considered separately."In lavish stream his accents flow, TOM, BOB, and BILLY dare not flout him; He argued high, he argued low, He also argued round about him.
"Ha, ha!" he said, "you loathe your ways, You writhe at these my words of warning, In agony your hands you raise." (And so they did, forthey were yawning.)
To "Twenty-firstly" on they go, The lads do not attempt to scout him; He argued high, he argued low, He also argued round about him.
"Ho, ho!" he cries, "you bow your crests - My eloquence has set you weeping; In shame you bend upon your breasts!" (And so they did, for they were sleeping.)He proved them this - he proved them that - This good but wearisome ascetic; He jumped and thumped upon his hat, He was so very energetic.
His Bishop at this moment chanced To pass, and found the road encumbered; He noticed how the Churchman danced, And how his congregation slumbered.
The hundred and eleventh head The priest completed of his stricture; "Oh, bosh!" the worthy Bishop said, And walked him off as in the picture.
The Yarn Of The "Nancy Bell"
'Twas on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone on a piece of stone An elderly naval man.
His hair was weedy, his beard was long, And weedy and long was he, And I heard this wight on the shore recite, In a singular minor key:
"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig."And he shook his fists and he tore his hair, Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said:
"Oh, elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand However you can be"At once a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig."Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which Is a trick all seamen larn, And having got rid of a thumping quid, He spun this painful yarn:
"'Twas in the good ship NANCY BELL That we sailed to the Indian Sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me.
"And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul), And only ten of the NANCY'S men Said 'Here!' to the muster- roll.
"There was me and the cook and the captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig.
"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot The captain for our meal.
"The next lot fell to the NANCY'S mate, And a delicate dish he made; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed.
"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain'sgig.
"Then only the cook and me was left, And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, And we argued it out as sich.
"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshipped me; But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see.
"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says TOM; 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be,- 'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.
"Says he, 'Dear JAMES, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook ME, While I can - and will - cook YOU!'
"So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot.And some sage and parsley too.
"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, Which his smiling features tell, ''T will soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.'
"And he stirred it round and round and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth.
"And I eat that cook in a week or less, And - as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see!
* * * *
"And I never larf, and I never smile, And I never lark nor play, But sit and croak, and a single joke I have - which is to say:
"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!'"
The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo
From east and south the holy clan Of Bishops gathered to a man; To Synod, called Pan-Anglican, In flocking crowds they came.Among them was a Bishop, who Had lately been appointed to The balmy isle of Rum-ti- Foo, And PETER was his name.
His people - twenty-three in sum - They played the eloquent tum-tum, And lived on scalps served up, in rum - The only sauce they knew.When first good BISHOP PETER came (For PETER was that Bishop's name), To humour them, he did the same As they of Rum-ti-Foo.
