TO THE ROLLER-SKATING FIEND.
O Boy!—O injudicious boy!—
Who, swayed by dark and secret reasons,
Dost love thine elders to annoy
At sundry times and frequent seasons,
Why hast thou left thy tempting top—
Thy penny-dreadful's gory garble—
Thy blue-and-crimson lollipop—
Thy aimlessly meandering marble?
Thy catapult, so sure of aim,
In cold neglect, alas! reposes,
And even "tip-cat's" cherished game
No longer threatens eyes and noses;
Thy tube of tin (projecting peas)
At length has ceased from irritating;
But how much worse than all of these
Thy latest craze—for roller-skating!
For, mounted on twin engines dread,
Thou rushest (with adventures graphic)
Where even angels fear to tread,
Because there's such a lot of traffic.
At lightning-speed we see thee glide,
(With malice every narrow shave meant),
And charge thine elders far and wide,
Or stretch them prone upon the pavement.
Round corners sharp thou lov'st to dart,
(Thou skating imp! Thou rolling joker!)
And hit in some projecting part
The lawyer staid, or solemn broker.
Does pity never mar thy glee,
When upright men with torture double?
Oh, let our one petition be
That thou may'st come to grievous trouble!
