50 Bab Ballads, vol 1 | Page 7

excruciating pain.
He made out costs, distrained for rent,
Foreclosed and sued, with
moistened eye -
No bill of costs could represent
The value of such
sympathy.
No charges can approximate
The worth of sympathy with woe; -

Although I think I ought to state
He did his best to make them so.
Of all the many clients who
Had mustered round his legal flag,
No

single client of the crew
Was half so dear as CAPTAIN BAGG.
Now, CAPTAIN BAGG had bowed him to
A heavy matrimonial
yoke -
His wifey had of faults a few -
She never could resist a joke.
Her chaff at first he meekly bore,
Till unendurable it grew.
"To stop
this persecution sore
I will consult my friend CAREW.
"And when CAREW'S advice I've got,
Divorce a mensa I shall try."

(A legal separation--not
A vinculo conjugii.)
"Oh, BAINES CAREW, my woe I've kept
A secret hitherto, you
know;" -
(And BAINES CAREW, ESQUIRE, he wept
To hear that
BAGG HAD any woe.)
"My case, indeed, is passing sad.
My wife--whom I considered true -

With brutal conduct drives me mad."
"I am appalled," said
BAINES CAREW.
"What! sound the matrimonial knell
Of worthy people such as these!

Why was I an attorney? Well -
Go on to the saevitia, please."
"Domestic bliss has proved my bane, -
A harder case you never heard,

My wife (in other matters sane)
Pretends that I'm a Dicky bird!
"She makes me sing, 'Too-whit, too-wee!'
And stand upon a rounded
stick,
And always introduces me
To every one as 'Pretty Dick'!"
"Oh, dear," said weeping BAINES CAREW,
"This is the direst case I
know."
"I'm grieved," said BAGG, "at paining you -
"To COBB
and POLTHERTHWAITE I'll go -
"To COBB'S cold, calculating ear,
My gruesome sorrows I'll impart"
-
"No; stop," said BAINES, "I'll dry my tear,
And steel my
sympathetic heart."

"She makes me perch upon a tree,
Rewarding me with 'Sweety--nice!'

And threatens to exhibit me
With four or five performing mice."
"Restrain my tears I wish I could"
(Said BAINES), "I don't know
what to do."
Said CAPTAIN BAGG, "You're very good."
"Oh, not
at all," said BAINES CAREW.
"She makes me fire a gun," said BAGG;
"And, at a preconcerted
word,
Climb up a ladder with a flag,
Like any street performing
bird.
"She places sugar in my way -
In public places calls me 'Sweet!'

She gives me groundsel every day,
And hard canary-seed to eat."
"Oh, woe! oh, sad! oh, dire to tell!"
(Said BAINES). "Be good
enough to stop."
And senseless on the floor he fell,
With
unpremeditated flop!
Said CAPTAIN BAGG, "Well, really I
Am grieved to think it pains
you so.
I thank you for your sympathy;
But, hang it!--come--I say,
you know!"
But BAINES lay flat upon the floor,
Convulsed with sympathetic sob;
-
The Captain toddled off next door,
And gave the case to MR.
COBB.
Ballad: THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM HANCE.
In all the towns and cities fair
On Merry England's broad expanse,

No swordsman ever could compare
With THOMAS
WINTERBOTTOM HANCE.
The dauntless lad could fairly hew
A silken handkerchief in twain,

Divide a leg of mutton too -
And this without unwholesome strain.
On whole half-sheep, with cunning trick,
His sabre sometimes he'd

employ -
No bar of lead, however thick,
Had terrors for the stalwart
boy.
At Dover daily he'd prepare
To hew and slash, behind, before -

Which aggravated MONSIEUR PIERRE,
Who watched him from the
Calais shore.
It caused good PIERRE to swear and dance,
The sight annoyed and
vexed him so;
He was the bravest man in France -
He said so, and
he ought to know.
"Regardez donc, ce cochon gros -
Ce polisson! Oh, sacre bleu!
Son
sabre, son plomb, et ses gigots
Comme cela m'ennuye, enfin, mon
Dieu!
"Il sait que les foulards de soie
Give no retaliating whack -
Les
gigots morts n'ont pas de quoi -
Le plomb don't ever hit you back."
But every day the headstrong lad
Cut lead and mutton more and more;

And every day poor PIERRE, half mad,
Shrieked loud defiance
from his shore.
HANCE had a mother, poor and old,
A simple, harmless village
dame,
Who crowed and clapped as people told
Of
WINTERBOTTOM'S rising fame.
She said, "I'll be upon the spot
To see my TOMMY'S sabre-play;"

And so she left her leafy cot,
And walked to Dover in a day.
PIERRE had a doating mother, who
Had heard of his defiant rage;

HIS Ma was nearly ninety-two,
And rather dressy for her age.
At HANCE'S doings every morn,
With sheer delight HIS mother
cried;
And MONSIEUR PIERRE'S contemptuous scorn
Filled HIS
mamma with proper pride.

But HANCE'S powers began to fail -
His constitution was not strong
-
And PIERRE, who once was stout and hale,
Grew thin from
shouting all day long.
Their mothers saw them pale and wan,
Maternal anguish tore each
breast,
And so they met to find a plan
To set their offsprings' minds
at rest.
Said MRS. HANCE, "Of course I shrinks
From bloodshed, ma'am, as
you're aware,
But still they'd better meet, I thinks."
"Assurement!"
said MADAME PIERRE.
A sunny spot in sunny France
Was hit upon for this affair;
The
ground was picked by MRS. HANCE,
The stakes were pitched by
MADAME PIERRE.
Said MRS. H., "Your work you see -
Go in, my noble boy, and win."

"En garde, mon fils!" said