CHARGE OF THE FAIR BRIGADE.
With the Junior Partner's Apologies to Mr, Tennyson.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All on the underground line
Rode the six hundred.
Right! cried the guard of the train;
Right! for the Sale, he said,
Into the Terminus then
Glide the six hundred.
Forward the bright brigade!
Was there a heart dismayed,
Not tho' it seemed too true
Someone had fainted.
Their's not to call a fly,
Aldgate, the station nigh;
Their's but to try and buy,
Into the premises
Came the six hundred.
Counters to right of them,
Counters to left of them,
Counters in front of them,
Dighted and lumbered;
Greeted with chair and grace
Boldly they entered apace,
Into the matter fain,
Into the "Sale" amain
Went the six hundred.
Flash'd all their note-books fair,
Flash'd all the pencils there,
Noting with all due care.
Purchases rich and rare,
All the world wondered;
Plunged in the "Hibernum Sale,"
Pleased with each neat detail;
Silken and Linen
Metre and yard-stick fail
Almost to measure.
Then they hark back, but not—
Not unencumbered.
Counters to right of them,
Counters to left of them,
Counters behind them
Piled up with wonders;
Offered some bargains rare,
Mute with a great despair
They that had bought so well
Came from the "Tempus" Sale
Tired and deadly pale,
Weary six hundred.
When can their gladness fade?
O! the good time they had!
All the world wondered.
Honour the "parcels made;"
Honour the Drapers' Trade,
Noble six hundred.