More Bab Ballads Part 3

No person that I ever knew Could "yodel" half as well as COO, And Highlanders exclaimed, "Eh, weel!"

When COO began to dance a reel.

His Kindness to the Pasha's Wives

He used to dance and sing and play In such an unaffected way, He cheered the unexciting lives Of PASHA BAILEY'S lovely wives.

The Author to his Reader

But why should I enc.u.mber you With histories of MATTHEW COO?

Let MATTHEW COO at once take wing,-- 'Tis not of COO I'm going to sing.

The Author's Muse

Let me recall my wandering Muse; She SHALL be steady if I choose-- She roves, instead of helping me To tell the deeds of BAILEY B.

The Pasha's Visitor

One morning knocked, at half-past eight, A tall Red Indian at his gate.

In Turkey, as you're p'raps aware, Red Indians are extremely rare.

The Visitor's Outfit

Moca.s.sins decked his graceful legs, His eyes were black, and round as eggs, And on his neck, instead of beads, Hung several Catawampous seeds.

What the Visitor said

"Ho, ho!" he said, "thou pale-faced one, Poor offspring of an Eastern sun, You've NEVER seen the Red Man skip Upon the banks of Mississip!"

The Author's Moderation

To say that BAILEY oped his eyes Would feebly paint his great surprise-- To say it almost made him die Would be to paint it much too high.

The Author to his Reader

But why should I ransack my head To tell you all that Indian said; We'll let the Indian man take wing,-- 'Tis not of him I'm going to sing.

The Reader to the Author

Come, come, I say, that's quite enough Of this absurd disjointed stuff; Now let's get on to that affair About LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE.

Ballad: Lieutenant-Colonel Flare

The earth has armies plenty, And semi-warlike bands, I dare say there are twenty In European lands; But, oh! in no direction You'd find one to compare In brotherly affection With that of COLONEL FLARE.

His soldiers might be rated As military Pearls.

As unsophisticated As pretty little girls!

They never smoked or ratted, Or talked of Sues or Polls; The Sergeant-Major tatted, The others nursed their dolls.

He spent his days in teaching These truly solemn facts; There's little use in preaching, Or circulating tracts.

(The vainest plan invented For stifling other creeds, Unless it's supplemented With charitable DEEDS.)

He taught his soldiers kindly To give at Hunger's call: "Oh, better far give blindly, Than never give at all!

Though sympathy be kindled By Imposition's game, Oh, better far be swindled Than smother up its flame!"

His means were far from ample For pleasure or for dress, Yet note this bright example Of single-heartedness: Though ranking as a Colonel, His pay was but a groat, While their reward diurnal Was--each a five-pound note.

Moreover,--this evinces His kindness, you'll allow,-- He fed them all like princes, And lived himself on cow.

He set them all regaling On curious wines, and dear, While he would sit pale-ale-ing, Or quaffing ginger-beer.

Then at his instigation (A pretty fancy this) Their daily pay and ration He'd take in change for his; They brought it to him weekly, And he without a groan, Would take it from them meekly And give them all his own!

Though not exactly knighted As knights, of course, should be, Yet no one so delighted In harmless chivalry.

If peasant girl or ladye Beneath misfortunes sank, Whate'er distinctions made he, They were not those of rank.

No maiden young and comely Who wanted good advice (However poor or homely) Need ask him for it twice.

He'd wipe away the blindness That comes of teary dew; His sympathetic kindness No sort of limit knew.

He always hated dealing With men who schemed or planned; A person harsh--unfeeling-- The Colonel could not stand.

He hated cold, suspecting, Official men in blue, Who pa.s.s their lives detecting The crimes that others do.

For men who'd shoot a sparrow, Or immolate a worm Beneath a farmer's harrow, He could not find a term.

Humanely, ay, and knightly He dealt with such an one; He took and tied him tightly, And blew him from a gun.

The earth has armies plenty, And semi-warlike bands, I'm certain there are twenty In European lands; But, oh! in no direction You'd find one to compare In brotherly affection With that of COLONEL FLARE.

Ballad: Lost Mr. Blake

MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner, Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak, He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a gla.s.s of grog on a Sunday after dinner, And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or--if Good Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it--three times a week.

He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray, And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap's distresses, He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner sort of way.

I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly emphatics, When the Protestant Church has been divided on the subject of the proper width of a chasuble's hem; I have even known him to sneer at albs--and as for dalmatics, Words can't convey an idea of the contempt he expressed for THEM.

He didn't believe in persons who, not being well off themselves, are obliged to confine their charitable exertions to collecting money from wealthier people, And looked upon individuals of the former cla.s.s as ecclesiastical hawks; He used to say that he would no more think of interfering with his priest's robes than with his church or his steeple, And that he did not consider his soul imperilled because somebody over whom he had no influence whatever, chose to dress himself up like an exaggerated GUY FAWKES.

This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably shameless That he actually went a-courting a very respectable and pious middle- aged sister, by the name of BIGGS.

She was a rather attractive widow, whose life as such had always been particularly blameless; Her first husband had left her a secure but moderate competence, owing to some fortunate speculations in the matter of figs.

She was an excellent person in every way--and won the respect even of MRS. GRUNDY, She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn't have wasted a penny if she had owned the Koh-i-noor.

She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance of Sunday, And being a good economist, and charitable besides, she took all the bones and cold potatoes and broken pie-crusts and candle-ends (when she had quite done with them), and made them into an excellent soup for the deserving poor.