Absurd Ditties. Farrow George Edward

Absurd Ditties - Farrow George Edward


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years have passed since her demise

      But Bishop Peter – bless his eyes —

      That saintly prelate, kind, and wise,

      Is excellently well.

      And, not so very long ago,

      He sought to wed – this gallant beau

      (His faithful flock desired it so) —

      Another Island belle.

      There was one difficulty, this:

      Our Peter wooed a dusky Miss

      Who (tho' inclined to married bliss)

      Declared him rather old;

      Who giggled at his bald, bald head,

      And even went so far, 'tis said,

      As to decline His Grace to wed,

      Did Lollipoppee bold.

      But, one day, on that far-off reef,

      A merchant vessel came to grief,

      And all the cargo – to be brief —

      Was washed upon the shore.

      Most of the crew, I grieve to state,

      Except the Bos'un and the Mate,

      Were lost. Theirs was a woesome fate,

      And one we all deplore.

      Amongst the wreckage on the strand,

      A box of "Tatcho" came to land,

      Which, there half buried in the sand,

      The Bishop – singing hymns

      Amongst his flock down by the shore —

      Discovered, and they open tore

      The case. Behold! The contents bore

      The magic name of Sims.

      "What! G. R. Sims?" quoth Bishop P.

      (Visions of "Billy's Rose" had he),

      "Good gracious now! It Sims to me

      I've heard that name before."

      (Oh, well bred flock! there was not one

      Who did not laugh at this poor pun;

      They revelled in their Bishop's fun.

      They even cried "Encore!")

      Then spake the Mate (whose name was Ted):

      "Now this 'ere stuff, so I've 'eard said,

      Will make the 'air grow on yer 'ead

      As thick as any mat."

      "Indeed?" quoth worthy Bishop P.;

      "Then 'tis the very thing for me,

      For I am bald, as you may see."

      His Grace removed his hat.

      The Bo'sun quickly broke the neck

      Of one large bottle from the wreck,

      Proceeding then His Grace to deck

      With towels (careful man,

      This was to save his coat of black,

      For "Tatcho" running down one's back

      Is clearly off its proper tack).

      And then the fun began.

      For Ted he rubbed the liquid through,

      As hard as ever he could do.

      And worthy Jack rubbed some in too

      (The Bo'sun's name was Jack).

      And day by day they did the same.

      Now "Tatcho" ne'er belies its fame,

      And soon a little hair there came

      (His Lordship's hair is black).

      Miss Lollipoppee views with glee

      The change in worthy Bishop P.

      Now quite agreed to wed is she

      (The banns were called to-day).

      No "just cause or impediment"

      Can interfere with their content;

      The natives' loyal sentiment

      Is summed up in "Hooray!"

      IV

      THAT OF CAPTAIN ARCHIBALD McKAN

      There never lived a worthier man

      Than Captain Archibald McKan.

      I knew him well some time ago

      (I speak of twenty years or so);

      Sans peur et sans reproche was he;

      He was the soul of chivalry,

      Was Captain Archibald McKan.

      True greatness showed in all his mien,

      No haughty pride in him was seen,

      Though, captain of a steamer, he,

      From Greenwich unto far Chelsea,

      That, spite of weather, wind, and tide,

      From early Spring to Autumn plied,

      Brave, modest Captain A. McKan.

      However sternly might his roar

      Reverberate from shore to shore

      Of "Ease her! Back her! Hard astern!"

      His duty done, with smile he'd turn

      And be most affable and mild

      To every woman, man, or child

      Aboard, would Captain A. McKan.

      He reassured the anxious fears

      Of nervous ladies – pretty dears! —

      He in his pocket carried toys

      And sweets for little girls and boys;

      He talked in quite familiar way

      With men who voyaged day by day,

      Did Captain Archibald McKan.

      In fact, as I've already said,

      No man alive – or even dead —

      Was freer from reproach than he;

      And yet of Fortune's irony

      (Though such a very decent sort)

      This worthy man was e'en the sport.

      Alas! was Captain A. McKan!

      "Cherchez la femme." The phrase is trite,

      Yet here, as usual, 'twas right.

      Our Captain noted every day

      A certain girl rode all the way

      From Greenwich Pier to Wapping Stair.

      "It cannot be to take the air,"

      Thought Captain Archibald McKan.

      She calmly sat, with downcast eye;

      And looking both demure and shy;

      Yet, once, he caught a roving glance,

      Which made his pulses wildly dance;

      And, – though as modest as could be —

      "I do believe she's gone on me,"

      Considered Captain A. McKan.

      "Why else should she persistently

      Select my boat alone?" thought he;

      "I wonder why she comes? I'll ask,

      Though 'tis a very ticklish task."

      So, walking forward with a smile,

      Beside the lass he


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