"THE HALF HUNDRED" (OF COALS).
A good way after A. Tennyson's "Six Hundred."
Up the stairs, up the stairs,
Up the stairs, onward!
Joe took, all out of breath,
Coals, half a hundred!
Up he went, still as death,
Lest they had wonder'd
That I, with a cellar large,
Bought by the "Hundred!"
"Forward! the light evade;
Let 'em not know," I said;
"Glide up as still as death,
With the 'Half-hundred!'
Let them be gently laid!
No sound as by earthquake made
When the ground's sunder'd!
You here, if one should spy,
Wondering the reason why?
I with the shame should die!
So crawl up still as death,
With the 'Half-hundred!'"
A cat on the right of him!
Cat on the left of him!
Cat at the front of him!
What if he blunder'd?
Slipt his foot! clean he fell!
Came then a horrid yell!
Joe look'd as pale as death,
As down they came pell mell,
All the "Half-hundred!"
Out popt the "party" there!
Wondering what meant that ere
Noise on the landing stair!
All stood and wonder'd!
Dust-clouds of coal and coke!
Made them all nearly choke!
Oh! such a dreadful smoke!
As from the second floor
Rolled the "Half-hundred!"
Voices at right of him!
Voices at left of him!
Voices behind him!
Question'd and thunder'd!
Shrunk I into my shell;
Ah! how my grandeur fell!
Knowing that (thought a "swell")
I was thus found to buy
Coals by the "Hundred!"
How does one's glory fade,
When there an end is made
At what the world wonder'd?
Ne'er from my mind will fade
That awkward mess we made,
Of the "Half-hundred!"
JAMES BRUTON.
(From the Stratford-on-Avon Herald.)
The following clever parody was given to me, about ten years ago, by a young Scotch friend, who has since gone to New Zealand. I have no clue to the year in which it was written (the day of the month, however, was carefully preserved), nor do I know by whom it was written, nor where it made its first appearance in public. Will any kind correspondent furnish me with information on these points?