The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 68

TWICKENHAM FERRY

"Ahoy! and O-ho! and it's who's for the ferry?"

(The briar's in bud and the sun going down) "And I'll row ye so quick and I'll row ye so steady, And 'tis but a penny to Twickenham Town."

The ferryman's slim and the ferryman's young, With just a soft tang in the turn of his tongue; And he's fresh as a pippin and brown as a berry, And 'tis but a penny to Twickenham Town.

"Ahoy! and O-ho! and it's I'm for the ferry,"

(The briar's in bud and the sun going down) "And it's late as it is and I haven't a penny-- Oh! how can I get me to Twickenham Town?"

She'd a rose in her bonnet, and oh! she looked sweet As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat, With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry-- It's sure but you're welcome to Twickenham Town.

"Ahoy! and O-ho!"--You're too late for the ferry, (The briar's in bud and the sun has gone down) And he's not rowing quick and he's not rowing steady; It seems quite a journey to Twickenham Town.

"Ahoy! and O-ho!" you may call as you will; The young moon is rising o'er Petersham Hill; And, with Love like a rose in the stern of the wherry, There's danger in crossing to Twickenham Town.

Theophile Marzials [1850-

THE HUMOR OF LOVE

SONG

I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine: For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine?

Yet now I think on't, let it lie, To find it were in vain, For thou hast a thief in either eye Would steal it back again.

Why should two hearts in one breast lie, And yet not lodge together?

O love, where is thy sympathy, If thus our b.r.e.a.s.t.s thou sever?

But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out: For when I think I'm best resolved, I then am most in doubt.

Then farewell care, and farewell woe!

I will no longer pine; For I'll believe I have her heart, As much as she hath mine.

John Suckling [1609-1642]

A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING

I tell thee, d.i.c.k, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen; Oh, things without compare!

Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, There is a house with stairs; And there did I see coming down Such folk as are not in our town, Forty at least, in pairs.

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine (His beard no bigger, though, than thine) Walked on before the rest; Our landlord looks like nothing to him; The king (G.o.d bless him!) 'twould undo him Should he go still so drest.

At Course-a-park, without all doubt, He should have first been taken out By all the maids i' th' town: Though l.u.s.ty Roger there had been, Or little George upon the green, Or Vincent of the Crown.

But wot you what? The youth was going To make an end of all his wooing; The parson for him staid: Yet by his leave (for all his haste), He did not so much wish all past, (Perchance) as did the maid.

The maid (and thereby hangs a tale) For such a maid no Whitsun-ale Could ever yet produce: No grape that's kindly ripe, could be So round, so plump, so soft, as she, Nor half so full of juice.

Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring; It was too wide a peck: And to say truth (for out it must) It looked like the great collar (just) About our young colt's neck.

Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: But oh, she dances such a way!

No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight.

Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison; Who sees them is undone; For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Cath'rine pear, The side that's next the sun.

Her lips were red; and one was thin Compared to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly); But, d.i.c.k, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze, Than on the sun in July.

Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might pa.s.sage get; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.

Pa.s.sion o' me! how I run on!

There's that that would be thought upon, I trow, besides the bride: The business of the kitchen's great, For it is fit that men should eat; Nor was it there denied.

Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice, And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey; Each serving-man, with dish in hand, Marched boldly up, like our trained-band, Presented and away.

When all the meat was on the table, What man of knife, or teeth, was able To stay to be intreated?

And this the very reason was, Before the parson could say grace, The company was seated.

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse; Healths first go round, and then the house, The bride's come thick and thick; And when 'twas named another's health, Perhaps he made it hers by stealth, (And who could help it, d.i.c.k?)

O' th' sudden up they rise and dance; Then sit again, and sigh, and glance; Then dance again, and kiss.

Thus sev'ral ways the time did pa.s.s, Till ev'ry woman wished her place, And ev'ry man wished his.

By this time all were stol'n aside To counsel and undress the bride; But that he must not know: But yet 'twas thought he guessed her mind, And did not mean to stay behind Above an hour or so.

John Suckling [1609-1642]