The Bab Ballads, vol 3 | Page 5

mark),
His name was MATTHEW WYCOMBE COO,
A man of
nearly forty-two.

His Accomplishments
No person that I ever knew
Could "yodel" half as well as COO,

And Highlanders exclaimed, "Eh, weel!"
When COO began to dance
a reel.
His Kindness to the Pasha's Wives
He used to dance and sing and play
In such an unaffected way,
He
cheered the unexciting lives
Of PASHA BAILEY'S lovely wives.
The Author to his Reader
But why should I encumber you
With histories of MATTHEW COO?

Let MATTHEW COO at once take wing,--
'Tis not of COO I'm
going to sing.
The Author's Muse
Let me recall my wandering Muse;
She SHALL be steady if I
choose--
She roves, instead of helping me
To tell the deeds of
BAILEY B.
The Pasha's Visitor
One morning knocked, at half-past eight,
A tall Red Indian at his gate.

In Turkey, as you're p'raps aware,
Red Indians are extremely rare.
The Visitor's Outfit
Mocassins decked his graceful legs,
His eyes were black, and round
as eggs,
And on his neck, instead of beads,
Hung several
Catawampous seeds.
What the Visitor said
"Ho, ho!" he said, "thou pale-faced one,
Poor offspring of an Eastern

sun,
You've NEVER seen the Red Man skip
Upon the banks of
Mississip!"
The Author's Moderation
To say that BAILEY oped his eyes
Would feebly paint his great
surprise--
To say it almost made him die
Would be to paint it much
too high.
The Author to his Reader
But why should I ransack my head
To tell you all that Indian said;

We'll let the Indian man take wing,--
'Tis not of him I'm going to
sing.
The Reader to the Author
Come, come, I say, that's quite enough
Of this absurd disjointed stuff;

Now let's get on to that affair
About LIEUTENANT-COLONEL
FLARE.
Ballad: Lieutenant-Colonel Flare
The earth has armies plenty,
And semi-warlike bands,
I dare say
there are twenty
In European lands;
But, oh! in no direction
You'd
find one to compare
In brotherly affection
With that of COLONEL
FLARE.
His soldiers might be rated
As military Pearls.
As unsophisticated

As pretty little girls!
They never smoked or ratted,
Or talked of
Sues or Polls;
The Sergeant-Major tatted,
The others nursed their
dolls.
He spent his days in teaching
These truly solemn facts;
There's little
use in preaching,
Or circulating tracts.
(The vainest plan invented

For stifling other creeds,
Unless it's supplemented
With charitable

DEEDS.)
He taught his soldiers kindly
To give at Hunger's call:
"Oh, better
far give blindly,
Than never give at all!
Though sympathy be
kindled
By Imposition's game,
Oh, better far be swindled
Than
smother up its flame!"
His means were far from ample
For pleasure or for dress,
Yet note
this bright example
Of single-heartedness:
Though ranking as a
Colonel,
His pay was but a groat,
While their reward diurnal

Was--each a five-pound note.
Moreover,--this evinces
His kindness, you'll allow,--
He fed them
all like princes,
And lived himself on cow.
He set them all regaling

On curious wines, and dear,
While he would sit pale-ale-ing,
Or
quaffing ginger-beer.
Then at his instigation
(A pretty fancy this)
Their daily pay and
ration
He'd take in change for his;
They brought it to him weekly,

And he without a groan,
Would take it from them meekly
And give
them all his own!
Though not exactly knighted
As knights, of course, should be,
Yet
no one so delighted
In harmless chivalry.
If peasant girl or ladye

Beneath misfortunes sank,
Whate'er distinctions made he,
They
were not those of rank.
No maiden young and comely
Who wanted good advice
(However
poor or homely)
Need ask him for it twice.
He'd wipe away the
blindness
That comes of teary dew;

His sympathetic kindness
No
sort of limit knew.
He always hated dealing
With men who schemed or planned;
A
person harsh--unfeeling--
The Colonel could not stand.
He hated
cold, suspecting,
Official men in blue,
Who pass their lives

detecting
The crimes that others do.
For men who'd shoot a sparrow,
Or immolate a worm
Beneath a
farmer's harrow,
He could not find a term.
Humanely, ay, and
knightly
He dealt with such an one;
He took and tied him tightly,

And blew him from a gun.
The earth has armies plenty,
And semi-warlike bands,
I'm certain
there are twenty
In European lands;
But, oh! in no direction
You'd
find one to compare
In brotherly affection
With that of COLONEL
FLARE.
Ballad: Lost Mr. Blake
MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner,
Who was
quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak, He was in the habit of
smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of grog on a Sunday after
dinner,
And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or--if
Good Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it--three times a
week.
He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses That the
clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray, And whatever
he did in the way of relieving a chap's distresses, He always did in a
nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner sort of way.
I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly emphatics, When
the Protestant Church has been divided on the subject of the proper
width of a chasuble's hem;
I have even known him to sneer at
albs--and as for dalmatics, Words can't convey an idea of the contempt
he expressed for THEM.
He didn't believe in persons who, not being well off themselves, are
obliged