A pair of iron darbies, when next we met, she wore, [2]
The expression of her features was more thoughtful than before;
And, standing by her side, was he who strove with might and main
To soothe her leaving that dear land she ne'er might see again.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
As she dropped the judge a curtsey, and he made her a bow.
III
And once again I see that brow no idle rouge is there,
The dubsman's ruthless hand has cropped her once luxurious hair; [3]
She teases hemp in solitude, and there is no one near,
To press her hand within his own, and call for ginger-beer.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the card and heckle in her hand, a-teasing of that tow.
[1: face; porter] [2: handcuffs] [3: gaoler's]
THE FAKER'S NEW TOAST [Notes] [1841]
[By BON GAULTIER ("Nimming Ned") in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine]
I
Come, all ye jolly covies, vot faking do admire, [1]
And pledge them British authors who to our line aspire;
Who, if they were not gemmen born, like us had kicked at trade,
And every one had turned him out a genuine fancy blade, [2]
And a trump.
II
'Tis them's the boys as knows the vorld, 'tis them as knows mankind,
And vould have picked his pocket too, if Fortune (vot is blind)
Had not to spite their genius, stuck them in a false position,
Vere they can only write about, not execute their mission,
Like a trump.