SONG,
From the French of Béranger.
LE ROI D'YVETOT.
(For the Mirror.)
There once was a King, as they say,
Though history says naught about it,
Who slept sound by night and by day,
And for glory—who just did without it;
A night cap his diadem was,
Which his maid used to air at the fire,
And then put it on him, (that's poz:)
Such was his Coronation attire.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
In a cottage his banquets were given,
He lived upon four meals a-day, sir,
On which diet he seems to have thriven:
And an ass was his charger they say, sir,
A dog was his life-guard, we're told,
And many a peregrination
Thus attended, he must have been bold,
He made step and step through the nation.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
His taste, for a monarch, was queer,
But his motto was "live and let live, sir,"
He was thirsty, and fond of good beer,
Which his subjects were happy to give, sir;
He levied his taxes himself,
A quart or a pint for his dinner,
No exciseman went snacks in the pelf,
No clerks had this jolly old sinner.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
Except just by way of a lark,
His militia he never would call out,
He then made them shoot at a mark
Till they had shot all their powder and ball out.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
To his neighbours he always was kind,
He never extended his boundaries,
For disputes and contentions, I find,
He never saw any just ground arise:
Pleasure's code being his statute law
He ne'er caused a tear to be shed, sir,
Though I swear not a dry eye I saw,
When his subjects first heard he was dead, sir.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" well might they sing,
When they mourned the sad loss of their good little King.
His portrait you must have observed,
In remarkably good preservation,
For his eminent virtues deserved
You'll allow, a conspicuous station:
"The King's Head" still continues his name,
Where full often the people on holidays
As they tipple, still talk of his name,
In lamenting the end of his jolly days.
CHORUS.
"Lack a-day, well-a-day!" thus do they sing.
And mourn for the loss of their good little King.
H.