So, after all This terrible squall, Fiddle-de-dee 's at the top of the tree, And Dol-drum and Fal-de-ral-tit sing small! Now Fiddle-de-dee sings loud and clear At I can't tell you how many thousands a year, And Fal-de-ral-tit is considered "Small Beer;" And Ma'am'selle Cherrytoes Sports her merry toes. Dancing away to the fiddles and flutes, In what the folks call a "Lithuanian" in boots.
So here's an end to my one, two, and three; And bless the Queen—and long live She! And grant that there never again may be Such a halliballoo as we've happened to see About nothing on earth but "Fiddle-de-dee!"
We come now to the rummaging of Father John's stores. The extracts which I shall submit from them are of the same character as those formerly derived from the same source, and may be considered as theologico-historical, or Tracts for his times.
With respect to the first legend on this list, I have to remark that, though the good Father is silent on the subject, there is every reason to believe that the "little curly-wigged" gentleman, who plays, though passively, so prominent a part in it, had Ingoldsby blood in his veins. This conjecture is supported by the fact of the arms of Scroope, impaling Ingoldsby, being found, as in the Bray case, in one of the windows, and by a very old marriage-settlement, nearly, or quite, illegible, a fac-simile of the seal affixed to which is appended to this true history.
[THE LAY OF ST. CUTHBERT;]
OR,
THE DEVIL'S DINNER-PARTY.
A LEGEND OF THE NORTH COUNTREE.