HE waves were high in Conway Bay,
The wind it blew a gale;
Five visitors that very day
Had ventured on a sail.
The tide ran high, the little boat
Unmanageable grew,
And scarce could it be kept afloat
By its unskilful crew.
Some fisher folk upon the beach,
All in the hurricane,
Put off, that little boat to reach
And bring it back again.
And when the gale was at its height,
Those Conway boatmen brave
Went off—it was a glorious sight—
The drowning ones to save.
They risked their lives, but Fate was kind—
They reached the boat at last;
Its occupants, to death resigned,
Thought every hope was past.
Their thanks to Heaven they freely gave,
And when they reached the beach,
They to those Conway boatmen brave
Presented sixpence each!
The Pirate ’Bus.
T was a pirate omnibus, that plied its evil trade
Along the London thoroughfares, and O, the games it played!
It ran a stout old lady down, who wanted Temple Bar,
And when they reached the Marble Arch, the cad cried, “Here you are;
But ere you step ashore, old gal, your ransom you must pay.”
He charged a shilling, slammed the door, and then he sailed away,
While driver and conductor yelled, “No use to make a fuss;
We snap our fingers at the law—we are a pirate ’bus!”
The Grand Old Man one autumn day was walking, axe in hand,
Along that busy thoroughfare the gay and crowded Strand;
He hailed a passing ’bus, and said, “Are you a Hampstead, please?”
At once they seized and flung him in right on a lady’s knees.
They bore away the G.O.M. and set him down at Bow,
And when he said, “The Vale of Health—that’s where I want to go!”
The ’bus conductor said, “Get out, you are a queer old cuss;
I’ll trouble you for four-and-six—this here’s a pirate ’bus!”