There were to be woodcocks, and not Charlotte Russe!
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.
Your Chablis is acid, away with the hock,
Give me the pure juice of the purple Médoc;
St. Peray is exquisite; but, if you please,
Some Burgundy just before tasting the cheese.
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.
As for that, pass the bottle, and hang the expense—
I've seen it observed by a writer of sense,
That the labouring classes could scarce live a day,
If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.
One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend,
Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend,
And so suppose now, while the things go away,
By way of a grace we all stand up and say
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.
I cannot but ask, in the park and the streets,
When I look at the number of persons one meets,
Whate'er in the world the poor devils can do
Whose fathers and mothers can't give them a sous.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
I ride, and I drive, and I care not a d -n,
The people look up and they ask who I am;
And if I should chance to run over a cad,
I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.
It was but this winter I came up to town,
And already I'm gaining a sort of renown;
Find my way to good houses without much ado,
Am beginning to see the nobility too.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.
O dear what a pity they ever should lose it,
Since they are the people who know how to use it;
So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners;
And yet, after all, it is we are the winners.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
It is all very well to be handsome and tall,
Which certainly makes you look well at a ball,
It's all very well to be clever and witty.
But if you are poor, why it's only a pity.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
There's something undoubtedly in a fine air,
To know how to smile and be able to stare,
High breeding is something, but well bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got?
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
And the angels in pink and the angels in blue,
In muslins and moirés so lovely and new,
What is it they want, and so wish you to guess,
But if you have money, the answer is yes.
So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
LXXI. "HIC VIR, HIC EST."
The subtle mingling of pathos and satire in this poem evoked the warm admiration of Mr. J. Russell Lowell. This is published by special permission of Messrs. G. Bell & Sons, to whom thanks are tendered.
OFTEN, when o'er tree and turret,
Eve a dying radiance flings,
By that ancient pile I linger,
Known familiarly as "King's".
And the ghosts of days departed
Rise, and in my burning breast
All the undergraduate wakens,
And my spirit is at rest.
What, but a revolting fiction,
Seems the actual result
Of the Census's inquiries,
Made upon the 15th ult.?
Still my soul is in its boyhood;
Nor of year or changes recks,
Though my scalp is almost hairless,
And my figure grows convex.
Backward moves the kindly dial;
And I'm numbered once again
With those noblest of their species
Called emphatically "Men";
Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime,
Through the streets, with tranquil mind,
And a long-backed fancy-mongrel
Trailing casually behind.
Past the Senate-house I saunter,
Whistling with an easy grace;
Past the cabbage stalks that carpet
Still the beefy market-place;
Poising evermore the eye-glass
In the light sarcastic eye,
Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid
Pass, without a tribute, by.
Once, an unassuming Freshman,
Thro' these wilds I wandered on,
Seeing in each house a College,
Under every cap a Don;
Each perambulating infant
Had a magic in its squall,
For my eager eye detected
Senior Wranglers in them all.
By degrees my education
Grew, and I became as others;
Learned to blunt my moral feelings
By the aid of Bacon Brothers;
Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock,
And colossal prints of Roe;
And ignored the proposition,
That both time and money go.
Learned to work the wary dogcart,
Artfully thro' King's Parade; Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with Amaryllis in the shade:
Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard;
Or (more curious sport than that) Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier Down upon the prisoned rat.
I have stood serene on Fenner's
Ground, indifferent to blisters, While the Buttress of the period Bowled me his peculiar twisters: Sung, "We won't go home till morning"; Striven to part my backhair straight; Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's
Old dry wines at 78/:—
When within my veins the blood ran,
And the curls were on my brow,
I did, oh ye undergraduates,
Much as ye are doing now.
Wherefore bless ye, O beloved ones:-
Now into mine inn must I,
Your "poor moralist", betake me,
In my "solitary fly".
|