Ballads By William Makepeace Thackeray Part 33

Them sanguinary Prodestants, which I abore and hate, a.s.sembled in the preaching-shop by the Flaminian gate; And they took counsel with their selves to deal a deadly blow Against our gentle Father, the Holy POPE PIO.

Exhibiting a wickedness which I never heard or read of; What do you think them Prodestants wished? to cut the good Pope's head off!

And to the kind POPE'S Air-dresser the Prodestant Clark did go, And proposed him to decapitate the innocent PIO.

"What hever can be easier," said this Clerk--this Man of Sin, "When you are called to hoperate on His Holiness's chin, Than just to give the razier a little slip--just so?-- And there's an end, dear barber, of innocent PIO!"

The wicked conversation it chanced was overerd By an Italian lady; she heard it every word: Which by birth she was a Marchioness, in service forced to go With the parson of the preaching-shop at the gate of Popolo.

When the lady heard the news, as duty did obleege, As fast as her legs could carry her she ran to the Poleege.

"O Polegia," says she (for they p.r.o.nounts it so), "They're going for to ma.s.syker our Holy POPE PIO.

"The ebomminable Englishmen, the Parsing and his Clark, His Holiness's Air-dresser devised it in the dark!

And I would recommend you in prison for to throw These villians would esa.s.sinate the Holy POPE PIO?

"And for saving of His Holiness and his trebble crownd I humbly hope your Wors.h.i.+ps will give me a few pound; Because I was a Marchioness many years ago, Before I came to service at the gate of Popolo."

That sackreligious Air-dresser, the Parson and his man Wouldn't, though ask'd continyally, own their wicked plan-- And so the kind Authoraties let those villians go That was plotting of the murder of the good PIO NONO.

Now isn't this safishnt proof, ye gentlemen at home, How wicked is them Prodestants, and how good our Pope at Rome?

So let us drink confusion to LORD JOHN and LORD MINTO, And a health unto His Eminence, and good PIO NONO.

THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUNDLING OF Sh.o.r.eDITCH.

Come all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail, It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail, By the Heastern Counties' Railway (vich the shares I don't desire), From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire.

A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd, And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchest- er, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed.

She entered into the Carriage all with a tottering step, And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep; The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty, Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty.

She had a fust-cla.s.s ticket, this lovely lady said, Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead.

Better to travel by secknd cla.s.s, than sit alone in the fust, And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust.

A seein of her cryin, and s.h.i.+verin and pail, To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail; Saysee you look unwell, Ma'am, I'll elp you if I can, And you may tell your ease to me, for I'm a meddicle man.

"Thank you, Sir," the lady said, "I only look so pale, Because I ain't accustom'd to travelling on the Rale; I shall be better presnly, when I've ad some rest:"

And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast.

So in the conwersation the journey they beguiled, Capting Loyd and the meddicle man, and the lady and the child, Till the warious stations along the line was pa.s.sed, For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last.

When at Sh.o.r.editch tumminus at lenth stopped the train, This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again.

"Thank you, Sir," the lady said, "for your kyindness dear; My carridge and my osses is probibbly come here.

"Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see?"

The Doctor was a famly man: "That I will," says he.

Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently, Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently.

With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it, Then she gave the Doctor the child--wery kind he nust it: Hup then the lady jumped hoff the bench she sat from, Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform.

Vile hall the other pa.s.sengers vent upon their vays, The Capting and the Doctor sat there in a maze; Some vent in a Homminibus, some vent in a Cabby, The Capting and the Doctor vaited vith the babby.

There they sat looking queer, for an hour or more, But their feller pa.s.singer neather on 'em sore: Never, never back again did that lady come To that pooty sleeping Hinfnt a suckin of his Thum!

What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus, When the darling Baby woke, cryin for its nuss?

Off he drove to a female friend, vich she was both kind and mild, And igsplained to her the circ.u.mstance of this year little child.

That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap, And made it very comfortable by giving it some pap; And when she took its close off, what d'you think she found?

A couple of ten pun notes sewn up, in its little gownd!

Also in its little close, was a note which did conwey That this little baby's parents lived in a handsome way And for his Headucation they reglarly would pay, And sirtingly like gentlefolks would claim the child one day, If the Christian people who'd charge of it would say, Per adwertis.e.m.e.nt in The Times where the baby lay.

Pity of this bayy many people took, It had such pooty ways and such a pooty look; And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see Any kind lady as would do as much for me);

And I wish with all my art, some night in MY night gownd, I could find a note st.i.tched for ten or twenty pound-- There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say, She'd adopt this little baby, which her parents cast away.

While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair, Comes a letter from Devons.h.i.+re, from a party there, Hordering the Doctor, at its Mar's desire, To send the little Infant back to Devons.h.i.+re.

Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddicle man, Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran; Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honorable beak, That takes his seat in Wors.h.i.+p Street, four times a week.

"O Justice!" says the Doctor, "instrugt me what to do.

I've come up from the country, to throw myself on you; My patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills, (There they are in Suffolk without their drafts and pills!)

"I've come up from the country, to know how I'll dispose Of this pore little baby, and the twenty pun note, and the close, And I want to go back to Suffolk, dear Justice, if you please, And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his feez."

Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at his desk, "This year application does me much perplesk; What I do adwise you, is to leave this babby In the Parish where it was left, by its mother shabby."

The Doctor from his wors.h.i.+p sadly did depart-- He might have left the baby, but he hadn't got the heart To go for to leave that Hinnocent, has the law allows, To the tender mussies of the Union House.

Mother, who left this little one on a stranger's knee, Think how cruel you have been, and how good was he!

Think, if you've been guilty, innocent was she; And do not take unkindly this little word of me: Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be!

THE ORGAN-BOY'S APPEAL.

"WESTMINSTER POLICE COURT.--Policeman X brought a paper of doggerel verses to the MAGISTRATE, which had been thrust into his hands, X said, by an Italian boy, who ran away immediately afterwards.

"The MAGISTRATE, after perusing the lines, looked hard at X, and said he did not think they were written by an Italian.

"X, blus.h.i.+ng, said he thought the paper read in Court last week, and which frightened so the old gentleman to whom it was addressed, was also not of Italian origin."

O SIGNOR BRODERIP, you are a wickid ole man, You wexis us little horgin-boys whenever you can: How dare you talk of Justice, and go for to seek To p.u.s.s.icute us horgin-boys, you senguinary Beek?