I
The faking boy to the crap is gone, [1]
At the nubbing-cheat you'll find him; [2]
The hempen cord they have girded on,
And his elbows pinned behind him.
"Smash my glim," cries the reg'lar card, [3]
"Though the girl you love betrays you,
Don't split, but die both game and hard,
And grateful pals shall praise you."
II
The bolt it fell,—a jerk, a strain!
The sheriff's fled asunder;
The faking-boy ne'er spoke again,
For they pulled his legs from under.
And there he dangles on the tree,
That sort of love and bravery!
Oh, that such men should victims be
Of law, and law's vile knavery.
[1: pickpocket; gallows] [2: gallows] [3: blast my eyes!]
THE NUTTY BLOWEN [Notes] [1841]
[By BON GAULTIER in Taits Edinburgh Magazine].
I
She wore a rouge like roses, the night when first we met,
Her lovely mug was smiling o'er mugs of heavy wet; [1]
Her red lips had the fullness, her voice the husky tone,
That told her drink was of a kind where water is unknown.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the bloom of borrowed flowers upon her cheek and brow.