Part 5

O, this was my first love, and thus I was cross’d, Ah, scorned by Paulina, how hard is my doom, I grow moloncolly, this vorld I am lost in, No more I’ll go valtzing in Dusty Tom’s room. But think of her scorning, crying sveep of a morning-- And veep as I vorks vith my shovel and broom. My shovel and broom, my shovel and broom, I’ll veep as I vorks with my shovel and broom.

THIS ballad was, during its run, as popular as any street song I remember. It had been forgotten, when Robson, that prince of genuine comic actors, introduced it into the farce of “The Wandering Minstrel,” and it fairly took the town by storm.

_VILIKINS AND HIS DINAH._

OH! ’tis of a rich merchant, In London did dwell, He had but one daughter, An uncommon nice young gal! Her name it was Dinah, Scarce sixteen years old, She had a large fortune In silver and gold. Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.

As Dinah was valking In the garden vun day,

Spoken--(_It was the front garden, not the back garden._)

Her papa came up to her, And thus he did say, Go, dress yourself, Dinah, In gor-ge-ous array And I’ll get you a husband, Both val-ly-ant and gay. Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.

Spoken--_This is what the infant progeny said to the author of her being_.

Oh, papa! oh, papa! I’ve not made up my mind, To marry just yet I do not feel inclined, And all my large fortune, I’ll freely give o’er, If you’ll let me stay single A year or two more. Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.

_This is what the indignant parient replied--I represent the father._

Then go, boldest daughter, The parient replied, If you don’t consent to be This here young man’s bride, I’ll leave your large fortune To the nearest of kin, And you shan’t have the benefit Of one single pin. Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.

_Now comes the epiflabbergastrinum of the lovier._

As Vilikins vas valking The garden around--

(_The aforesaid front garden_,)

He spied his dear Dinah Lying dead on the ground, A cup of cold pison It laid by her side, And a billy dux stating By pison she died.

_Taken inwardly_, Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.

* * * * *

_This is what the lovier did._

Then he kissed her cold corpus A thousand times o’er, He called her his Dinah-- Though she was no more! He swallowed the pison Like a true lovier brave, And Vilikins and his Dinah Lie a-buried in one grave.

_Both on ’em_ Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.

MORAL.

Now all you young vimmen, Take a warning by her, And never by any means Disobey the guv’ner: And all you young fellers, Mind who you clap eyes on, Think on Vilikins and Dinah And the cup of cold pison.

_Else you’ll be singing_ Too-ral-loo, etc.

_THE EXCISEMAN OUTWITTED._

TO a village that skirted the sea, An Exciseman, one midsummer, came, But prudence, between you and me, Forbids me to mention his name. Soon Michael he chanced to espy, A cask on his shoulder he wore, With six gallons of brandy, or nigh, And where is the man can bear more?

Says th’ Exciseman, let’s see your Permit, Says Mike, ’Tain’t convenient to show it, T’other cried, Sir, I’m not to be bit, For you’ve smuggled that stuff, and you know it. Your hogs to a fine market you’ve brought, For seeing you’ve paid no excise, As Custom has settled you ought, I seize on your tub, as my prize.

Now, do not be hard, said poor Mike, The Exciseman was deaf to complaint, Why then, take it, said Mike, if you like, For I’ve borne it till ready to faint. For miles in hot sunshine they trudg’d, Till on them, they scarce had a dry rag, Th’ Exciseman his labour ne’er grudged, But carefully carried his cag.

To the Custom House, in the next town, ’Twas yet some three furlongs or more, Then says Michael, pray set your load down, For this here, Sir, is my Cottage door. ’Tother answered, I thank you, friend, No, My burden, just yet, I shan’t quit, Then, says Michael, before you do go I’ll get you to read my permit.

Your Permit! Why not show it before? Because it came into my nob, By your watching for me on the shore, That your worship was wanting a job. Now, I’d need of a porter, d’ye see, For that load made my bones for to crack, And so, Sir, I thank you for me, And wish you a pleasant walk back.

_GILES SCROGGINS GHOST._

GILES SCROGGIN courted Molly Brown, Fol de riddle lol, de riddle lido, The fairest wench in all the town, Fol de riddle, etc. He bought her a ring with a posy true, If you loves I, as I loves you, No knife can cut our loves in two. Fol de riddle, etc.

But Scissars cut, as well as knives, Fol de riddle, etc. And quite unsartain’s all our lives, Fol de riddle, etc. The day they were to have been wed, Fate’s scissars cut poor Giles’s thread, So they could not be mar-ri-ed. Fol de riddle, etc.

Poor Molly laid her down to weep, Fol de riddle, etc. And cried herself quite fast asleep, Fol de riddle, etc. When standing fast by her bed-post, A figure tall, her sight engross’d, And it cried, I be Giles Scroggin’s ghost. Fol de riddle, etc.

The ghost it said all solemnly, Fol de riddle, etc. Oh! Molly, you must go with me, Fol de riddle, etc. All to the grave your love to cool, Says she, I am not dead, you fool, Says the ghost, says he, vy, that’s no rule. Fol de riddle, etc.

The ghost then seiz’d her all so grim, Fol de riddle, etc. All for to go along with him, Fol de riddle, etc. Come, come, said he, e’er morning beam, I von’t, said she, and scream’d a scream, Then she woke, and found she’d dream’d a dream. Fol de riddle, etc.

_THE STRANGE MAN._

THERE was a man, tho’ it’s not very common, And as people say he was born of a woman; And, if it be true, as I have been told, He was once a mere infant, but age made him old. _Derry down._

His face was the oddest that ever was seen, His mouth stood across ’twixt his nose and his chin; Whenever he spoke it was then with his voice, And in talking he always made some sort of noise. _Derry down._

He’d an arm on each side to work when he pleased, But he never worked hard when he lived at his ease, Two legs he had got to make him complete, And what is more odd, at each end were his feet. _Derry down._

His legs, as folks say, he could move at his will, And when he was walking he never stood still, If you were to see him, you’d laugh till you burst, For one leg or the other would always be first. _Derry down._

And, as people say, if you gave him some meat, Why, if he was hungry, he surely would eat, And when he is dry, if you give him the pot, The liquor most commonly runs down his throat. _Derry down._

If this whimsical fellow had a river to cross, If he could not get over, he staid where he was, He seldom or ever got off the dry ground, So great was his luck, that he never was drowned. _Derry down._

Another misfortune befel this poor yeoman, For when he was married his wife was a woman, And if you’ll believe me tho’ he was revil’d, You may truly aver he was never with child. _Derry down._

And if it be true, as I have heard tell, When he was sick, he was not very well, He gave a large gasp, open’d his mouth so wide, And, by some means or other, this poor fellow died. _Derry down._

But the reason he died, and the cause of his death, Was owing, poor soul, to the want of more breath, And now he is left in the grave for to moulder, Had he lived a day longer, he’d have been a day older. _Derry down._

_A SIGHT FOR A FATHER._

WHAT a pleasure it is to have a good wife, One that is steady and willing, To help and to comfort a man through his life, One who knows how to eke out a shilling. With my own little wife I can’t grumble at all, But my family’s a rummy lot, rather, Thirteen boys and girls I can count, great and small Now there’s a fine sight for a father!

There’s Anna Maria, a young woman grown, How often I wish she would marry! She goes out every night (I can’t keep her at home) With a young chap who calls himself Harry. Out of doors, once, I bolted her tight, And on the door I put a bar there, But she said “Let me in, or I’ll stop out all night.” Now there was a sight for a father!

Our Tom was so proud, he vowed he would be Either a Squire or a Knight, Sir, So to better his fortune he bolted from me, And for many years kept out of sight, sir. I stept in a shop to get shaved t’other day, And my face was covered with lather, When I found it was Tom who was scraping away, Now here was a sight for a father!

On going home once, there was the devil to pay, My wife she was calling for water, From the neighbours I learnt some man ran away With Amelia, my good-looking daughter. My youngest girl Nance, on the very same day, Wrote a letter, which made me mad rather, To say she was in a particular way. Now here was a sight for a father!

I’ve three great hulking boys, who in service won’t stop, They’re too lazy to earn their own victuals, They only seem happy when in the gin-shop, And I’m told they’re all sharpers at skittles. I get up every night to let in the dears, But as soon as they spy their mamma there, They jump into my bed, and I sleep on the chairs. Now there’s a fine sight for a father!

There’s my last daughter Bet, the worst of them yet, Her heart must be hard as the path stones, For she’s run away with a queer-looking chap, Who goes about selling of hearth stones. With a bag on her back I met her once plump, (I couldn’t help wishing her farther) Crying out, “Hearth stones, a penny a lump.” Now here was a sight for a father!

Now all married men, pray take my advice, And if you would keep your honest right, Sirs, Don’t let your daughters dress up over nice, Nor ramble out late of a night, Sirs. Keep your girls at their needles, your boys at their pens, I’ve bought my experience dear, rather, But be sure keep your girls away from the men, Or, there’ll be a fine sight for a father!

_HUMOURS OF BARTLEMY FAIR._

COME bustle, neighbour Sprig, clap on your hat and wig, In our Sunday clothes so gaily, let us strut up the Old Bailey, O the devil take the rain, we may never go again, See the shows have begun, O rare O! Remember, Mr. Snip, to take care of Mrs. Snip, There’s a little boy from Flanders, and that ’ere’s Master Glanders, Stand aside, and we’ll have a stare, O! How full’s the fair, Lord Mayor, All is flurry, hurry, skurry, Girls squalling, showmen bawling, Cats throwing, trumpets blowing, Rattles springing, monkeys grinning, Rope dancing, horses prancing, Sausage frying, children crying, Dogs of knowledge, come from College, Slack wire, eating fire, Learned pigs of pigmy size, Funny clowns, ups and downs, Round about, all out, What a throng, all along, Politi’s show, all the go, Just in time, that is prime, To enjoy all the fun of the fair, O!

(Spoken) Vaulk up, ladies and gentlemen, here’s the vonderful birds and beastesses, just arrived from Bengal in the Vest Indies. Vhy, look marm, at this here beautiful hanimal; no less than two hundred spots on his belly, but no two alike and every vone different; it’s out of the power of any body to describe him. Well, positively, I never saw such a beautiful creature in my life. Did you, Sir? A very fine looking animal, ’pon my soul, mem. Master Showman, how long do you suppose he measures? Vhy! fifteen feet from the snout to the tail, and only twelve feet from the tail to the snout. He lives to the advanced age of one hundred years, grows a inch and a ’arf every hannual year, and never comes to his full growth. Stir him up with the long pole, keeper--only hear how he growls.

Here--here--the only booth in the fair for the greatest curiosity in all the known world,--the wonderful and surprising Hottentot Venus is here, who measures three yards and three quarters round her.

When the fair is at the full, in gallops a mad bull, Puts the rabble to the rout; lets all the lions out; Down falls Mrs. Snip, with a monkey on her hip, We shall all be swallowed up, I declare, O! Roaring boys, gilded toys, Lolloypps shilling hops, Tumble in, just begin, Cups and balls, wooden walls, Gin and bitters, apple fritters. Pudding nice, penny a slice; Shins of beef, stop thief! A bang up swing, just the thing, A dead dog, amongst the mob, Lost hats, squalling brats, Lost shoes, kangaroos, O, Polly, where’s Molly? Bow-wow, what a row Is kicked up in Bartlemy fair, O!

(Spoken) Here, here, show ’em up here, show ’em up here. Now’s your time, Ladies and Gentlemen--only twopence each, to see that surprising Conjuror, the emperor of all conjurors, who will forfeit the enormous sum of one hundred pounds to any one who shall perform the said wonders. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am no common sleight of hand man. The common sleight of hand man, they turn the things up their sleeves, and make you believe their fingers deceive your eyes. Now, Sir, you shall draw one card, two cards, three cards, four cards, half a dozen cards: you look on the card this side, you look on the card that side, and I say blow, by the abominable-ba-be-bo-fe-jacko-crack-oh-feltho-swiftly begone-quick-presto-passo-largo-mento-hi-coccolorum, the card is flown. Where is it gone to? that is the question. Be so kind, Sir, as to stop that there young woman from getting out of the crowd; I suppose she has got it under her garter. Come, come, young woman, bring it forward, bring it forward, and let me hold it up, that all the company may have a squint at it.

Now the beasts with angry tooth all attack the booth, Away affrighted run, birds and eagles of the sun, Down tumbled trot legg’d Molly, who tips him the hue hollow, Poor Card is in the mud, O, rare, O.

(Spoken) Here, here, vaulk up, ladies and gentlemen, here’s the wonderful Kangaroo, just arrived from Bottomless Bay. Here is the wonderful large baboon, that danced a padolo, and played at leap-frog with the celebrated Master Barintar. Here is the wonderful leopard-spotted tom cat, of the male species, which can as well see in the dark as without light. Here is the wonderful little marmoza monkey, just arrived from the Isle of Liliput: hold him up to the company, master keeper. O dear me, what a little beauty, to be sure, do let me stroke the dear little creature--la! la! how prodigious tame he is. Yes, marm, he’s always very tame to the ladies.

Ye up, guvnor, what’s the name of that large bird there, stuck up in the corner? Vat! that there vone? Oh! that’s the wonderful Sun eagle, the hotter the sun is, the higher he flies. There’s the wonderful Cow, that can’t live on dry land, and dies in the water. Billy, Billy, my boy, go and stuff a blanket in that ere hole, or the little ones vill peep for nothing. Here, here, now’s your time, ladies and gentlemen, jest a going to begin, jest a going to begin. Stand off the steps there, you boys, and make way for that gentleman with the smock frock and carbuncled nose to come down. How did you like it, Sir? Oh, it’s all dam stuff. There, there, only hear what a good character the gentleman gives it. Vaulk up, ladies and gemmen, now’s your time to see that wonderful wooden Roscius, Mr. Punch, for the small charge of vone penny. Show your tricks Mr. Punch.

_GEORGY BARNWELL._

IN Cheapside there liv’d a merchant A man he vas of wery great fame, And he had a handsome prentice, Georgy Barnwell vas his name.

This youth he vas both good and pious, Dutiful beyond all doubt, And he always staid vithin doors ’Cause his master vouldn’t let him out.

And much his master’s darter lov’d him, She slept in next room to him, ’tis said, And she bored a hole right through the wainscoat, To look at Georgy going to bed.

A vicked voman of the town, sirs, Hon him cast a vishful eye; And she came to the shop, one morning, A flannel petticoat to buy.

When she paid him down the money, She gave his hand a wery hard squeeze, Which so frightened Georgy Barnwell, That together, he knocked his knees.

Then she left her card, vereon vas written Mary Millwood does entreat, That Mister Barnwell vould call and see her, At Cummins’s in Dyot Street.

Now as soon as he’d shut the shop up, He vent to this naughty dicky bird, And ven he vent home the next morning, Blow me if he could speak a vord.

Now soon this woman did persuade him, Vith her fascinating pipes, To go down into the country, And let loose his uncle’s tripes.

There he found his uncle in the grove, Studying hard at his good books, And Georgy Barnwell vent and struck him, All among the crows and rooks.

Ven Milwood found he’d got no money, Not so much as to buy a jewel, She vent that wery day and peached him, Now vas not that ’ere werry cruel?

The Judge put his three cornered cap on, And said--vich Barnwell much surprized, You must hang until you dead are, Then you must be a-nat-o-mized.

Now Georgy was hung upon a gibbet, Molly Milwood died in prison, At her fate no one lamented, But every body pitied his’n.

The merchant’s darter died soon arter, Tears she shed, but spoke no vords, So all young men, I pray take varning, Don’t go vith naughty dicky birds.

_JONATHAN BROWN._

’TWAS down in a snug little country town, A barber once lived, named Jonathan Brown, A man very tidily settled in life, For he wanted for nothing excepting a wife.

A staring large bill in his window, displayed The various branches he had in his trade, Such as “shaving and dressing,” and then underneath, Was “Cupping and bleeding,” and drawing of teeth.[26]

But he wasn’t like one of your dentists in town, Who for drawing a grinder would charge you a crown, For, if you were only to give him the job, Oh! he’d draw you all over his shop for a bob.

But he found the advantage of working so cheap, For customers flock’d to his shop in a heap; He cut hair for twopence and rubb’d ’em with greas And he tortured their chins at a penny a piece.

Thus single he lived, yet thriving his trade, Yet still to get married, he constantly prayed, Till a damsel, one day, came to give his mind ease, And says she, Sir, I want my front dressed, if you please.

From that moment his heart was in Cupid’s net caught, She encouraged his visits, but just as he thought To make her his own, as she’d given her word, A rival he found in a tailor,--Good Lord!

One night, unexpected, he popped in to see How she was, when the tailor was sitting at tea, Now, Sally, says he, turn him out if you can, Don’t you know that he’s but the ninth part of a man?

The Tailor’s blood now, beginning to rise, He swelled himself up to near double his size, And he told him he wished that he never might squint, But he’d pummel him well for his _barbarous_ hint.

Now, Sally, she said she was sorely perplexed, To know, which of the two she could fancy the best, And to see them go quarrel for her she was loth, For she thought she could very well manage them both.

They told her, that certainly wouldn’t be right, But to see which would have her, they’d willingly fight, Then to settle the job, they went in the next room, And Sal, with a cobbler, jumped over a broom.[27]

_WERY PEKOOLIAR, OR THE LISPING LOVERS._

HAVE you e’er been in love,--If you havn’t, I have, To the little God Koopid I’ve been a great thlave, He thot in my bothom, a quiver of arrowth, Like thmall naughty boyth, thoot Cock Robinth and Thparrowth, My heart wath pure ath the white alabathter, Till Koopid, my bothom, he did over mathter, Then tell me, ye Godth! how I love one Mith Thulia, There wath thomething about her tho vewy pekooliar.

We firtht met at a ball, where our handth did entwine, Where I did thweedge her fingerth, and the did thweedge mine; When for my necth partner, I ventured to preth her, When I found that the lithped, when the anthered me “Yeth, thir.” Now in lithping, I think, there ith thomething uncommon, And I loveth in partickler, the lithph of a woman, And I’m thure you’d have liked the lithph of Mith Thulia, There wath thomething about it tho vewy pekooliar.

Like a beautiful peach, wath the cheek of Mith Thulia, And then, in her eye, there wath thomething pekooliar, Thpeaking volumeth, it darted, each glanthe to one’th marrow, Ath keen and ath thwift, ath the wicked boy’th arrow. A thlight catht in her eye,--to her lookth added vigour, A catht in the eye, often tendth to dithfigure: But not though the catht in the eye of Mith Thulia, There wath thomething about it tho vewy pekooliar.

Good friendth, we oft met, midth thmileth and midth tearth, I courted her nearly for three or four yearth, I took her to playth, and to ba11th--O! ye Powerth. How thweetly and thwiftly did then path my hourth; But oneth--oh, e’en now--I my feelingth can’t thmother, The danthed, all the evening, along with another, I didn’t thay nothing that night to Mith Thulia, Though I couldn’t help thinking ’twath vewy pekooliar.

I went necth day to thcold her, when the, to my heartth core, Cut me up by requethting I’d come there no more; That I thould be affronted, if longer I tarried, For, necth week, to another, the wath to be married. “Godth! Thulia,” thaid I, “why you cannot thay tho?” “Oh yeth, but I do Thir,--tho you’d better go.” “Well, I thall go,” thaid I, “but you’ll own it, Mith Thulia, Your behaviour to me hath been vewy pekooliar.”

(Spoken) Vewy pekooliar, vewy pekooliar indeed; and from that day to thith, I have never theen Thulia. Her behaviour to me wath thertainly vewy pekooliar!

_THE BABES IN THE WOOD._

IT’S a woeful bad tale I’m about to relate, It happened years back, but I don’t know the date; It’s a heart rending tale of two babbies so good, Vot vos starved to death in a blackberry wood. Ven they vos quite infants, they lost their mamma, They vos both left alone in the vorld vith their pa, To attend to his babbies vos alvays his plan,

(_Chorus._)

But their nunky he vos such a vicked old man, Their nunky he vos such a hard hearted man.