Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

"A horse!" the elder man of physic cried,
As if he meant his pupil to deride—
"How came so wild a notion in your head!"
"How! think not in my duty I was idle,
"Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed,

[ocr errors]

And there I saw a saddle and a bridle."

ANON.

THE FARMER AND THE COUNSELLOR.

(From "Gaieties and Gravities.")

A COUNSEL in the "Common Pleas,”
Who was esteemed a mighty wit,
Upon the strength of a chance hit,
Amid a thousand flippancies,
And his occasional bad jokes,

In bullying, bantering, browbeating,
Ridiculing, and maltreating
Women, or other timid folks;
In a late cause, resolved to hoax
A clownish, Yorkshire farmer-one
Who, by his uncouth look and gait,
Appeared expressly meant by fate
For being quizzed and played upon.

So having tipped the wink to those
In the back rows,

Who kept their laughter bottled down,
Until our wag should draw the cork-
He smiled jocosely on the clown,
And went to work.

"Well, Farmer Numskull, how go calves at York?"

[ocr errors]

Why-not, sir, as they do wi' you;

"But on four legs instead of two:"

"Officer!" cried the legal elf,

Piqued at the laugh against himself,

"Do pray keep silence down below there!
"Now look at me, clown, and attend,
"Have I not seen you somewhere, friend ?”
“Yees, very like, I often go there.”

"Our rustic waggish is, and quite laconic,"
(The counsel cried with grin sardonic,)
"I wish I had known this prodigy,
"This genius of the clods, when I
"On circuit was at York residing.
"Now, farmer, do for once speak true,
"Mind, you're on oath, so tell me, you
"Who doubtless think yourself so clever,
"Are there as many fools as ever
"In the West Riding?"

“Why no, sir, no! we've got our share,
"But not so many as when you were there."

HORACE SMITH.

THE FARMER'S WIFE, AND THE GASCON.
(From " Gaieties and Gravities.”)

At Neuchâtel, in France, where they prepare
Cheeses that set us longing to be mites,
There dwelt a farmer's wife, famed for her rare
Skill in these small quadrangular delights.

Where they were made they sold for the immense
Price of three sous a piece;

But as salt water made their charms increase,
In England the fixed rate was eighteen pence.

This damsel had to help her in the farm,
To milk her cows and feed her hogs,
A Gascon peasant, with a sturdy arm
For digging or for carrying logs,
But in his noddle, weak as any baby,
In fact a gaby;

And such a glutton when you came to feed him, That Wantley's dragon, who ate barns and churches As if they were geese and turkeys,

(Vide the ballad), scarcely could exceed him.

One morn she had prepared a monstrous bowl
Of cream, like nectar,

And would'nt go to church (good careful soul!)
Till she had left it safe with a protector;

So she gave strict injunctions to the Gascon
To watch it while his mistress was to mass gone.
Watch it he did he never took his eyes off,
But lick'd his upper then his under lip,
And doubled up his fist to drive the flies off;
Begrudging them the smallest sip,
Which, if they got,

Like my Lord Salisbury, he heaved a sigh,
And cried, O happy, happy fly,

[ocr errors]

How I do envy you your lot!"

Each moment did his appetite grow stronger;
His bowels yearned;

At length he could not bear it any longer,
But on all sides his looks he turned,

And finding that the coast was clear, he quaff'd
The whole up at a draught.

Scudding from church, the farmer's wife
Flew to the dairy;

But stood aghast, and could not for her life,
One sentence mutter,

Until she summoned breath enough to utter
"Holy St. Mary!"

And shortly, with a face of scarlet,

The vixen (for she was a vixen), flew

Upon the varlet,

Asking the when, and where, and how, and who,

Had gulped her cream, nor left an atom;
To which he gave not separate replies,
But with a look of excellent digestion
One answer made to every question;
"The flies!"

[ocr errors]

"The flies, you rogue! the flies, you guttling dog!
Behold, your whiskers still all covered thickly :
"Thief-liar-villain-gormandiser-hog!

"I'll make you tell another story quickly.'

"

So out she bounced, and brought with loud alarms,
Two stout Gens d'Armes,

Who bore him to the judge-a little prig
With angry bottle nose,

Like a red cabbage rose,

While lots of white ones flourished on his wig.

Looking both stern and wise,

He turned to the delinquent,

And 'gan to question him and catechise

As to which way the drink went;

Still the same dogged answers rise;

[ocr errors]

The flies, my lord, the flies, the flies!"

"Psha!" quoth the judge, half peevish and half pompous,

[ocr errors]

Why you're non compos.

"You should have watched the bowl as she desired,

[ocr errors]

"And killed the flies, you stupid clown."

What, is it lawful then," the dolt inquired,

"To kill the flies in this here town?"

"The man 's an ass-a pretty question this!
"Lawful? You booby! to be sure it is.

"You 've my authority where'er you meet 'em,
"To kill the rogues, and if you like it, eat 'em."
"Zooks!" cried the rustic, I'm right glad to hear it.
Constable, catch that thief! may I go hang

66

If yonder blue-bottle (I know his face),
Is'nt the very leader of the gang

"That stole the cream; let me come near it!"
This said, he started from his place,

And aiming one of his sledge-hammer blows
At a large fly upon the judge's nose,
The luckless blue-bottle he smashed,

And gratified a double grudge;

For the same catapult completely smashed
The bottle-nose belonging to the judge!

HORACE SMITH.

THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY.

A MEMBER of the Esculapian line,

Lived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne:

No man could better gild a pill,
Or make a bill,

Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister;
Or draw a tooth out of your head;
Or chatter scandal by your bed;
Or give a clyster.

His fame full six miles round the country ran ;
In short, in reputation he was solus:
All the old women called him a fine man!'
His name was Bolus.

6

Benjamin Bolus, though in trade,

(Which oftentimes will genius fetter),

Read works of fancy, it is said,

And cultivated the "belles lettres."

And why should this be thought so odd?
Can't men have taste who cure a phthisic?
Of poetry, though patron God,

Apollo patronizes physic.

Bolus loved verse ;-and took so much delight in 't, All his prescriptions he resolved to write in 't.

No opportunity he e'er let pass

Of writing the directions on his labels
In dapper couplets, like Gay's Fables,
Or rather, like the lines in Hudibras.

He had a patient lying at death's door,

Some three miles from the town, it might be four,
To whom, one evening, Bolus sent an article-
In pharmacy that's called cathartical :

And on the label of the stuff

He wrote this verse,

Which one would think was clear enough,

And terse,

"When taken,

"To be well shaken."

« ZurückWeiter »