“Cruising in the Channel with the wind North-east,
Our ship she sails nine knots at least;
Our thundering guns we will let fly,
We will let fly over the twinkling sky—
Huzza! we are homeward bound,
Huzza! we are homeward bound.And when we arrive at the Plymouth Dock,
The girls they will around us flock,
Saying, ‘Welcome, Jack, with your three years’ pay,
For we see you are homeward bound to-day’—
Huzza! we are homeward bound,
Huzza! we are homeward bound.And when we come to the --- [42] Bar,
Or any other port in so far,
Old Okey meets us with a smile,
Saying, ‘Drink, my lads, ’tis worth your while’—
Huzza! we are homeward bound,
Huzza! we are homeward bound.Ah! but when our money’s all gone and spent,
And none to be borrowed, nor none to be lent,
Old Okey meets us with a frown,
Saying, ‘Get up, Jack, let John sit down,
For I see you are outward bound,’
For, see, we are outward bound.”
III.
ONE OF JOHN DUTFEN’S “QUEERIES.”
I am werry much obligated to yeou, Mr Editer, for printin’ my lines. I hain’t got no more at spresent, so I’ll send yeou a queery instead. I axed our skule-master, “What’s a queery?” and he säa, “Suffen [43a] queer,” so I think I can sute yeou here.
When I was a good big chap, I lived along with Mr Cooper, of Thräanson. [43b] He was a big man; but, lawk! he was wonnerful päad over with rheumatics, that he was. I lived in the house, and arter I had done up my hosses, and looked arter my stock, I alluz went to bed arly. One night I h’ard [43c] my missus halloin’ at the bottom of the stairs. “John,” sez she, “yeou must git up di-rectly, and go for the doctor; yar master’s took werry bad.” So I hulled [43d] on my clothes, put the saddle on owd Boxer, and warn’t long gittin to the doctor’s, for the owd hoss stromed along stammingly, [43e] he did. When the doctor come, he säa to master, “Yeou ha’ got the lump-ague in yar lines; [43f] yeou must hiv a hot baath.” “What’s that?” sez master. “Oh!” sez the doctor, “yeou must hiv yar biggest tub full o’ hot water, and läa in it ten
minnits.” Sune as he was gone, missus säa, “Dew yeou go and call Sam Driver, and I’ll hit [44a] the copper.” When we cum back, she säa, “Dew yeou tew [44b] take the mashin’-tub up-stairs, and when the water biles yeou cum for it.” So, byne by we filled the tub, and missus säa, “John, dew yeou take yar master’s hid; [44c] and Sam, yeou take his feet, and drop ’im in.” We had a rare job to lift him, I warrant; but we dropt him in, and, O lawk! how he did screech!—yeou might ha’ h’ard ’im a mile off. He splounced out o’ the tub flop upon the floor, and dew all we could we coon’t ’tice him in agin. “Yeou willans,” sez he, “yeou’ve kilt me.” But arter a bit we got him to bed, and he läa kind o’ easy, till the doctor cum next mornin’. Then he towd the doctor how bad he was. The doctor axed me what we’d done. So I towd him, and he säa, “Was the water warm?” “Warm!” sez I, “’twould ommost ha’ scalt a hog.” Oh, how he did lâff! “Why, John bor,” sez he, “yeou must ha’ meant to bile yar master alive.” Howsomdiver, master lost the lump-ague and nivver sed nothin’ about the tub, ’cept when he säa to me sometimes kind o’ joky, “John bor, dew yeou alluz kip [44d] out o’ hot water.”
John Dutfen. [44e]
This story has a sequel. My father told it once at the dinner-table of one of the canons in Norwich. Every one laughed more or less, all but one, the Rev. “Hervey Du Bois,” a rural dean from the Fens. He alone made no sign. But he was staying in the house; and that night the Canoness was aroused from her sleep by a strange gurgling sound proceeding from his room. She listened and listened, till, convinced that their guest must be in a fit, she at last arose, and listened outside his door. A fit he was in—sure enough—of laughter. He was sitting up in bed, rocking backwards and forwards, and ever and again ejaculating, “Why, John bor, yeou must ha’ meant to bile yar master alive.” And then he went off into another roar.
IV. CAPTAIN WARD.
“That piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.”—‘Twelfth Night,’ II. iv.
This old song was lately taken down from the lips of an old Suffolk (Monk Soham) labourer, who has known it and sung it since he was a boy. The song is of much