The Spook Ballads. William Theodore Parkes
My ghost derided, with contempt of scoffing stock from thee!
But of thy clacking caustic tongue, I prithee give no more,
I'll take my passage by a breeze, to-night for Singapore,
Or anywhere the wind may blow, Japan! or Timbuctoo!
To rid me of thy clapper jaw, a flout on thee! Adieu!"
He then evaporated, and with some pride embued,
I turned, for an expression of the butler's gratitude,
But he was gone! and from his place, with india rubber shoe,
A lamp was flashed upon my face, by number 90, Q,
They're never where they're wanted, and that blue, belted elf,
Did hail me up for trespass, and for shouting to myself!
YE FILIAL SACRAFICE
H
E was ye wrothful widowere,
Unto his child spak he,
"Thou art not wise in this my son,
To court with Susan Lee,
A Mayde, ye least that's prattled of,
Ye safer for her fame,
Bethink thee, thou art Jabez Gray,
Respect thy Sire, his name!
"Ye reputation of ye Mayde,
Is dewdrop to ye root
Of wedded life, that canks ye blight,
Or ripes ye wholesome fruit,
Then part thee boy, from Susan Lee,
Her ways and lightsome game,
As Jabez Gray, behave thee well,
Respect thy Sire, his name!"
Ah! well a day, for Jabez Gray,
O wallow was his woe,
It stung his heart with pain and rue,
That Mayden Lee should go,
Alack! Ah! me, that such should be,
But compensation came,
For he was true, as Jabez Gray,
Unto his Sire, his name.
He gave unto ye Mayde, ye sore,
And sorry last farewell,
Ye pang unto his crinkled heart,
Was gall of woe to tell!
But from his conscience, filial faith,
With healing balsam came
His heart unto, for he was true,
Unto his Sire, his name.
O then 'twas his, 'twas Jabez Gray's
Reward and recompense,
To hear his Sire bespeake ye Mayde,
In fond and future tense,
He pry'd it in ye dark of night,
Beyond ye garden gate,
"I'll wed thee Sue, myself, to save
Thy name from evil prate."
He heard ye Sire bespeak ye Mayde,
In tender guise, ye same,
As he did plead, before ye split,
To save ye Sire, his name.
He heard ye Parent, tell to Sue,
Ye lack of manly sense,
Of him, ye son, and with ye kiss,
He spake in future tense.
Ye little month did pass, and then,
Ye Parent wed ye Mayde,
And this, ye counsel to ye son,
In confidence he say'd,
"Ye Spinster Sue is now ye Wife,
Of fair and goodly fame,
Be duteous to her, as ye son
Respect thy Sire, his name!"
MADAM STIFFIN'S GHOST
IN BURTON Crescent, on the semi-circle apex there,
I lodged some little period up a six flight four foot stair,
It came about by freak of chance, 'twas in a cul-de-sac,
I found myself one morning, and compelled to tramp it back,
Whilst blessing gates of London town that bar the traffic yet,
I saw a window label, lettered, "lodgings to be let,"
A gloomy habitation 'twas, to give the nerves the creep!
But possibly a comfortable roosting place to sleep,
Of knockers on its oaken door, it bore a double stock,
I took those knockers, and I struck duet of double knock,
And just as I was rounding off my rallantando din,
The door was gently opened and a lady cried "Come in!"
I must confess, I fluttered with a flick of some surprise,
To see a lady so petite, and with such piercing eyes,
An artificial bloom was on her cheek, and nose, and neck,
Her gown was of a quaint brocade in antique floral check.
By transmutating hand of time, and his assistant care,
The golden sheen to silver light was paling thro' her hair,
And from the dentistry of art, that crowned her rippled chin,
She greeted me with pearly smile, the moment I stepped in.
I noted on her fingers small, some antique diamond rings,
And in her slippers russet brown, she tripped as 'twere on springs,