10
hady,
You'll never find him "SHY"--for, once or twice
Already, he's been driven by a lady,
Who parts with him--perhaps a poor excuse for him -
Because she hasn't any further use for him.
Oh! bride of mine--tall, dumpy, dark, or fair!
Oh! widow--wife, maybe, or blushing maiden,
I've told YOUR fortune; solved the gravest care
With which your mind has hitherto been laden.
I've prophesied correctly, never doubt it;
Now tell me mine--and please be quick about it!
You--only you--can tell me, an' you will,
To whom I'm destined shortly to be mated,
Will she run up a heavy modiste's bill?
If so, I want to hear her income stated
(This is a point which interests me greatly).
To quote the bard, "Oh! have I seen her lately?"
Say, must I wait till husband number one
Is comfortably stowed away at Woking?
How is her hair most usually done?
And tell me, please, will she object to smoking?
The colour of her eyes, too, you may mention:
Come, Sibyl, prophesy--I'm all attention.
Ballad: SIR MACKLIN.
Of all the youths I ever saw
None were so wicked, vain, or silly,
So lost to shame and Sabbath law,
As worldly TOM, and BOB, and BILLY.
For every Sabbath day they walked
(Such was their gay and thoughtless natur)
In parks or gardens, where they talked
From three to six, or even later.
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
