But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little noise, She said she "did not like to wait on little vulgar Boys." She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubb'd the delf, Said I might "go to Jericho, and fetch my beer myself!"
I did not go to Jericho—I went to Mr. Cobb—[40] I changed a shilling—(which in town the people call "a Bob")— It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar child— And I said, "A pint of double X, and please to draw it mild!"
When I came back I gazed about—I gazed on stool and chair— I could not see my little friend—because he was not there! I peep'd beneath the table-cloth—beneath the sofa too— I said, "You little vulgar Boy! why, what's become of you?"
I could not see my table-spoons—I look'd, but could not see The little fiddle-pattern'd ones I use when I'm at tea; —I could not see my sugar-tongs—my silver watch—oh, dear! I know 'twas on the mantel-piece when I went out for beer.
I could not see my Macintosh—it was not to be seen!— Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brimm'd and lined with green; My carpet-bag—my cruet-stand, that holds my sauce and soy,— My roast potatoes!—all are gone!—and so's that vulgar Boy!
I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below, "—Oh, Mrs. Jones! what do you think?—ain't this a pretty go?— —That horrid little vulgar Boy whom I brought here to-night, —He's stolen my things and run away!!"—Says she, "And sarve you right!!"
Next morning I was up betimes—I sent the Crier round, All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say I'd give a pound To find that little vulgar Boy, who'd gone and used me so; But when the Crier cried, "O Yes!" the people cried, "O No!"
I went to "Jarvis' Landing-place," the glory of the town, There was a Common-sailor-man a-walking up and down, I told my tale—he seem'd to think I'd not been treated well, And call'd me "Poor old Buffer!"—what that means I cannot tell.
That Sailor-man, he said he'd seen that morning on the shore, A son of—something—'twas a name I'd never heard before, A little "gallows-looking chap"—dear me! what could he mean? With a "carpet-swab" and "muckingtogs," and a hat turned up with green.