"I'll be back in a couple of shakes; So don't, dears, be quivering and quaking: I'm going to get you some cakes, And a nice butter'd roll that's a-baking!" He rode off with a tear in his eye, Which ran down his rough cheek, and wet it, As he said to himself with a sigh, "Pretty souls!—don't they wish they may get it!!"
From that moment the Babes ne'er caught sight Of the wretch who thus wrought their undoing, But passed all that day and that night In wandering about and "boo-hoo"-ing. The night proved cold, dreary, and dark, So that, worn out with sighings and sobbings, Next morn they were found stiff and stark, And stone-dead, by two little Cock-Robins.
These two little birds it sore grieves To see what so cruel a dodge I call,— They cover the bodies with leaves, An interment quite ornithological; It might more expensive have been, But I doubt, though I've not been to see 'em, If among those in all Kensal Green You could find a more neat Mausoleum.
Now, whatever your rogues may suppose, Conscience always makes restless their pillows, And Justice, though blind, has a nose That sniffs out all conceal'd peccadilloes. The wicked old Uncle, they say, In spite of his riot and revel, Was hippish and qualmish all day, And dreamt all night long of the d—l.
He grew gouty, dyspeptic, and sour, And his brow, once so smooth and so placid, Fresh wrinkles acquired every hour, And whatever he swallow'd turn'd acid. The neighbours thought all was not right, Scarcely one with him ventured to parley, And Captain Swing came in the night, And burnt all his beans and his barley.
There was hardly a day but some fox Ran away with his geese and his ganders; His wheat had the mildew, his flocks Took the rot, and his horses the glanders; His daughters drank rum in their tea, His son, who had gone for a sailor, Went down in a steamer at sea, And his wife ran away with a tailor!
It was clear he lay under a curse, None would hold with him any communion; Every day matters grew worse and worse, Till they ended at length in The Union; While his man being caught in some fact, (The particular crime I've forgotten,) When he came to be hanged for the act, Split, and told the whole story to Cotton.
Understanding the matter was blown, His employer became apprehensive Of what, when 'twas more fully known, Might ensue—he grew thoughtful and pensive; He purchased some sugar-of-lead, Took it home, popp'd it into his porridge, Ate it up, and then took to his bed, And so died in the workhouse at Norwich.
Moral.
Ponder well now, dear Parents, each word That I've wrote, and when Sirius rages In the dog-days, don't be so absurd As to blow yourself out with Green-gages! Of stone-fruits in general be shy, And reflect it's a fact beyond question That Grapes, when they're spelt with an i, Promote anything else but digestion.—