CARTED AWAY.
A Farewell Ode to the Brompton Boilers.
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,
There's a work I wouldn't miss for worlds, a sight my heart does cheer:
Well, I know you'll not believe, mother, a word of what I say;
But they're carting the boilers away, mother, they're carting the boilers away.
There's many a black eye, of course, a moral one I mean,
Has been exchanged about them, for many a fight they've seen;
But no more need of cavil now, the fact's as plain as day,
They're carting the boilers away, mother, they're carting the boilers away.
Good taste had slept so sound, mother, I thought t'would never wake.
But the Press, at last, has given it a most decided shake;
Yes, at length it's up and doing, oh! and isn't Brompton gay
While they re carting its boilers away, mother, they're carting its boilers away!
As I came up from Knightsbridge whom think ye I should see,
But, Mr. Cole, my ancient friend, best known as our C.B.!
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday—
And he carted the boilers away, mother, he carted the boilers away.
You know it is his boast, mother, that in bricks all red and white,
He means to raise, on what appears an eligible ground site,
A palace for which Parliament will very gladly pay—
When the boilers are carted away, mother, the boilers are carted away.
The turnstile and refreshment rooms, umbrella man, and charts,
The chimney pots, paints, plaster casts, and analysed jam tarts,
Yes, all are gone! No longer art her triumphs can display,
For they've carted her boilers away, mother, they've carted her boilers away.
The cabs they come and go, mother, the omnibuses pass,
The public scarce believe their eyes; they think the thing a farce,
They'd got resigned to Brompton, thought its boilers meant to stay!
Yet they're carting those boilers away, mother, they're carting those boilers away.
South Kensington no more, mother, need fear to be despised,
The three most ugly things on earth, man ever yet devised,
No longer shall scare fashion off, and keep the world at bay;
Yes, the boilers are carted away, mother, the boilers are carted away.
So please call me very early—Oh! I mean it—mother dear,
For I wouldn't miss the sight for worlds, it's such a bright idea;
They're nearly done—a pole or two will go and then—hooray!
The boilers are carted away, mother, are carted for ever away!
The following appeared in The Referee, in 1882:—
"Chief Justice May has scandalously prejudged the Land League case, and in common decency he should not be allowed to try it. A fair trial is impossible after the partisanship which in the vilest possible taste this person has displayed. It is not the practice even now in Ireland to hang people first and try them afterwards, and May may congratulate himself upon having done the very worst thing in his power for the Government brief, which, sitting in judgment, he had the effrontery to flaunt in the face of the accused."