The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 203

"I," said the Bank, "tho' he played me a prank, "While I have a rag, poor _Rob_ shall be rolled in't, "With many a pound I'll paper him round, "Like a plump rouleau--_without_ the gold in it."

[1] "Another objection to a metallic currency was, that it produced a greater number of highway robberies."--_Debate in the Lords_.

[2] Mr. Abercromby's statement of the enormous tavern bills of the Commissioners of Bankrupts.

ALL IN THE FAMILY WAY.

A NEW PASTORAL BALLAD.

(SUNG IN THE CHARACTER OF BRITANNIA.)

"The Public Debt is due from ourselves to ourselves, and resolves itself into a Family Account."--_Sir Robert Peel's Letter_.

Tune--_My banks are all furnisht with bees_.

My banks are all furnisht with rags, So thick, even Freddy can't thin 'em; I've torn up my old money-bags, Having little or nought to put in 'em.

My tradesmen are smas.h.i.+ng by dozens, But this is all nothing, they say; For bankrupts since Adam are cousins,-- So, it's all in the family way.

My Debt not a penny takes from me.

As sages the matter explain;-- Bob owes it to Tom, and then Tommy Just owes it to Bob back again.

Since all have thus taken to _owing_, There's n.o.body left that can _pay_; And this is the way to keep going,-- All quite in the family way.

My senators vote away millions, To put in Prosperity's budget; And tho' it were billions or trillions, The generous rogues wouldn?t grudge it.

'Tis all but a family _hop_, 'Twas Pitt began dancing the hay; Hands round!--why the deuce should we stop?

'Tis all in the family way.

My laborers used to eat mutton, As any great man of the State does; And now the poor devils are put on Small rations of tea and potatoes.

But cheer up, John, Sawney, and Paddy, The King is your father, they say; So even if you starve for your Daddy, 'Tis all in the family way.

My rich manufacturers tumble, My poor ones have nothing to chew; And even if themselves do not grumble Their stomachs undoubtedly do.

But coolly to fast _en famille_, Is as good for the soul as to pray; And famine itself is genteel, When one starves in a family way.

I have found out a secret for Freddy, A secret for next Budget day; Tho' perhaps he may know it already, As he too's a sage in his way.

When next for the Treasury scene he Announces "the Devil to pay,"

Let him write on the bills, "_nota bene_, "'Tis all in the family way."

BALLAD FOR THE CAMBRIDGE ELECTION.

"I authorized my Committee to take the step which they did, of proposing a fair comparison of strength, upon the understanding that _whichever of the two should prove to be the weakest_, should give way to the other."

--_Extract from Mr. W. J. Bankes's Letter to Mr. Goulbourn_.

Bankes is weak, and Goulbourn too, No one e'er the fact denied;-- Which is "weakest" of the two, Cambridge can alone decide.

Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say.

Goulbourn of the Pope afraid is, Bankes, as much afraid as he; Never yet did two old ladies On this point so well agree.

Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest. Cambridge, say.

Each a different mode pursues, Each the same conclusion reaches; Bankes is foolish in Reviews, Goulbourn foolish in his speeches.

Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say.

Each a different foe doth d.a.m.n, When his own affairs have gone ill; Bankes he d.a.m.neth Buckingham, Goulbourn d.a.m.neth Dan O'Connell.

Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say.

Once we know a horse's neigh Fixt the election to a throne, So whichever first shall _bray_ Choose him, Cambridge, for thy own.

Choose him, choose him by his bray, Thus elect him, Cambridge, pray.

_June_, 1826.

MR. ROGER DODSWORTH.

1826.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.

Sir--Having just heard of the wonderful resurrection of Mr. Roger Dodsworth from under an _avalanche_, where he had remained, _bien frappe_, it seems, for the last 166 years, I hasten to impart to you a few reflections on the subject.--Yours, etc.

_Laudator Temporis Acti_.

What a lucky turn-up!--just as Eldon's withdrawing, To find thus a gentleman, frozen in the year Sixteen hundred and sixty, who only wants thawing To serve for _our_ times quite as well as the Peer;--

To bring thus to light, not the Wisdom alone Of our Ancestors, such as 'tis found on our shelves, But in perfect condition, full-wigged and full-grown, To shovel up one of those wise bucks themselves!

Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth and send him safe home-- Let him learn nothing useful or new on the way; With his wisdom kept snug from the light let him come, And our Tories will hail him with "Hear!" and "Hurrah!"

What a G.o.d-send to _them_!--a good, obsolete man, Who has never of Locke or Voltaire been a reader;-- Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth as fast as you can, And the Lonsdales and Hertfords shall choose him for leader.