She says that I shall much enjoy,—
I don’t know what she means,—
To take the air and buy some toy,
In my own palankeens,—
I like to drive my pony-chair,
Or ride our dapple gray—
But elephants are horses there—
I’m going to Bombay!
VIII.
Farewell, farewell, my parents dear,
My friends, farewell to them!
And oh, what costs a sadder tear,
Good-bye to Mr. M.!—
If I should find an Indian vault,
Or fall a tiger’s prey,
Or steep in salt, it’s all his fault,
I’m going to Bombay!
IX.
That fine new teak-built ship, the Fox
A. 1—Commander Bird,
Now lying in the London Docks,
Will sail on May the Third;
Apply for passage or for freight,
To Nichol, Scott, and Gray—
Pa has applied and seal’d my fate—
I’m going to Bombay!
X.
My heart is full—my trunks as well;
My mind and caps made up,
My corsets shap’d by Mrs. Bell,
Are promised ere I sup;
With boots and shoes, Rivarta’s best,
And dresses by Ducé,
And a special license in my chest—
I’m going to Bombay!
JOHN JONES.
A PATHETIC BALLAD.
“I saw the iron enter into his soul.”—Sterne.