The worthy Rector, with uncommon zeal,
Soon put his spoke in for the common weal—
A grave old gentlemanly kind of Urban,—
The piteous tale of Jeremiah moulded,
And then unfolded,
By way of climax, Mrs. Davy’s turban;
He told how auctioneering Mr. Pidding
Knock’d down a lot without a bidding,—
How Mr. Miles, in fright, had giv’n his mare
The whip she wouldn’t bear,—
At Prospect House, how Doctor Oates, not Titus,
Danc’d like Saint Vitus,—
And Mr. Beak, thro’ Powder’s misbehaving,
Cut off his nose whilst shaving;—
When suddenly, with words that seem’d like swearing,
Beyond a Licenser’s belief or bearing—
Broke in the stuttering, sputtering Mr. Gammage—
“Who is to pay us, Sir,”—he argued thus,
“For loss of cus-cus-cus-cus-cus-cus-cus—
Cus-custom, and the dam-dam-dam-damage?
Now many a person had been fairly puzzled
By such assailants, and completely muzzled;
Baker, however, was not dash’d with ease—
But proved he practised after their own system,
And with small ceremony soon dismiss’d ’em,
Putting these words into their ears like fleas;
“If I do have a blow, well, where’s the oddity?
I merely do as other tradesmen do,
You, Sir,—and you—and you!
I’m only puffing off my own commodity!”
THE SCHOOLMASTER’S MOTTO.
“The Admiral compelled them all to strike.”—Life of Nelson.
USH! silence in School—not a noise!
You shall soon see there’s nothing to jeer at,
Master Marsh, most audacious of boys!
Come!—“Palmam qui meruit ferat!”
So this morn in the midst of the Psalm,
The Miss Siffkin’s school you must leer at,
You’re complained of—Sir! hold out your palm,—
There!—“Palmam qui meruit ferat!”
You wilful young rebel, and dunce!
This offence all your sins shall appear at,
You shall have a good caning at once—
There!—“Palmam qui meruit ferat!”
You are backward, you know, in each verb,
And your pronouns you are not more clear at,
But you’re forward enough to disturb,—
There!—“Palmam qui meruit ferat!”