His flock, I've often heard him tell, (His name was PETER) loved him well, And, summoned by the sound of bell, In crowds together came."Oh, massa, why you go away? Oh, MASSA PETER, please to stay." (They called him PETER, people say, Because it was his name.)He told them all good boys to be, And sailed away across the sea, At London Bridge that Bishop he Arrived one Tuesday night; And as that night he homeward strode To his Pan-Anglican abode, He passed along the Borough Road, And saw a gruesome sight.
He saw a crowd assembled round A person dancing on the ground, Who straight began to leap and bound With all his might and main.To see that dancing man he stopped, Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped, Then down incontinently dropped, And then sprang up again.
The Bishop chuckled at the sight."This style of dancing would delight A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite.I'll learn it if I can, To please the tribe when I get back." He begged the man to teach his knack."Right Reverend Sir, in half a crack! Replied that dancing man.
The dancing man he worked away, And taught the Bishop every day - The dancer skipped like any fay - Good PETER did the same.The Bishop buckled to his task, With BATTEMENTS, and PAS DE BASQUE.(I'll tell you, if you care to ask, That PETER was his name.)"Come, walk like this," the dancer said, "Stick out your toes - stick in your head, Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread - Your fingers thus extend; The attitude's considered quaint." The weary Bishop, feeling faint, Replied,"I do not say it ain't, But 'Time!' my Christian friend!""We now proceed to something new - Dance as the PAYNES and LAURIS do, Like this - one, two - one, two - one, two." The Bishop, never proud, But in an overwhelming heat (His name was PETER, I repeat) Performed the PAYNE and LAURI feat, And puffed his thanks aloud.
Another game the dancer planned - "Just take your ankle in your hand, And try, my lord, if you can stand - Your body stiff and stark.If, when revisiting your see, You learnt to hop on shore - like me - The novelty would striking be, And must attract remark.""No," said the worthy Bishop, "no; That is a length to which, I trow, Colonial Bishops cannot go.You may express surprise At finding Bishops deal in pride - But if that trick I ever tried, I should appear undignified In Rum-ti-Foozle's eyes.
"The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo Are well-conducted persons, who Approve a joke as much as you, And laugh at it as such; But if they saw their Bishop land, His leg supported in his hand, The joke they wouldn't understand - 'T would pain them very much!"
The Precocious Baby.A Very True Tale (TO BE SUNG TOTHE AIR OF THE "WHISTLING OYSTER.")
An elderly person - a prophet by trade - With his quips and tips On withered old lips, He married a young and a beautiful maid; The cunning old blade! Though rather decayed, He married a beautiful, beautiful maid.
She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be, With her tempting smiles And maidenly wiles, And he was a trifle past seventy-three: Now what she could see Is a puzzle to me, In a prophet of seventy - seventy- three!
Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad) With their loud high jinks And underbred winks, None thought they'd a family have - but they had; A dear little lad Who drove 'em half mad, For he turned out a horribly fast little cad.
For when he was born he astonished all by, With their "Law, dear me!" "Did ever you see?" He'd a pipe in his mouth and a glass in his eye, A hat all awry - An octagon tie - And a miniature - miniature glass in his eye.
He grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap, With his "Oh, dear, oh!" And his "Hang it! 'oo know!" And he turned up his nose at his excellent pap - "My friends, it's a tap Dat is not worf a rap." (Now this was remarkably excellent pap.)He'd chuck his nurse under the chin, and he'd say, With his "Fal, lal, lal" - "'Oo doosed fine gal!" This shocking precocity drove 'em away: "A month from to-day Is as long as I'll stay - Then I'd wish, if you please, for to toddle away."His father, a simple old gentleman, he With nursery rhyme And "Once on a time," Would tell him the story of "Little Bo-P," "So pretty was she, So pretty and wee, As pretty, as pretty, as pretty could be."But the babe, with a dig that would startle an ox, With his "C'ck! Oh, my! - Go along wiz 'oo, fie!" Would exclaim, "I'm afraid 'oo a socking ole fox." Now a father it shocks, And it whitens his locks, When his little babe calls him a shocking old fox.
The name of his father he'd couple and pair (With his ill-bred laugh, And insolent chaff) With those of the nursery heroines rare - Virginia the Fair, Or Good Goldenhair, Till the nuisance was more than a prophet could bear.
"There's Jill and White Cat" (said the bold little brat, With his loud, "Ha, ha!") "'Oo sly ickle Pa! Wiz 'oo Beauty, Bo-Peep, and 'oo Mrs.Jack Sprat! I've noticed 'oo pat MY pretty White Cat - I sink dear mamma ought to know about dat!"He early determined to marry and wive, For better or worse With his elderly nurse - Which the poor little boy didn't live to contrive: His hearth didn't thrive - No longer alive, He died an enfeebled old dotard at five!
MORAL.
Now, elderly men of the bachelor crew, With wrinkled hose And spectacled nose, Don't marry at all - you may take it as true If ever you do The step you will rue, For your babes will be elderly - elderly too.
To Phoebe
"Gentle, modest little flower, Sweet epitome of May, Love me but for half an hour, Love me, love me, little fay." Sentences so fiercely flaming In your tiny shell-like ear, I should always be exclaiming If I loved you, PHOEBE dear.
"Smiles that thrill from any distance Shed upon me while I sing! Please ecstaticize existence, Love me, oh, thou fairy thing!" Words like these, outpouring sadly You'd perpetually hear, If I loved you fondly, madly; - But I do not, PHOEBE dear.
Baines Carew, Gentleman
Of all the good attorneys who Have placed their names upon the roll, But few could equal BAINES CAREW For tender-heartedness and soul.
