The groom, who's been over To Folkestone and Dover, Can't get any tidings at all of the rover! —Here's a fortnight and more has gone by, and we've tried Every plan we could hit on—the whole country-side, Upon all its dead walls, with placards we've supplied,— And we've sent out the Crier, and had him well cried— 'Missing!! Stolen, or stray'd, Lost, or mislaid, A Gentleman;—middle-aged, sober, and staid;— Stoops slightly;—and when he left home was array'd In a sad-coloured suit, somewhat dingy and fray'd;— Had spectacles on with a tortoiseshell rim, And a hat rather low-crowned, and broad in the brim.— Whoe'er Shall bear, Or shall send him with care, (Right side uppermost) home;—or shall give notice where The said middle-aged Gentleman is; or shall state Any fact, that may tend to throw light on his fate, To the man at the turnpike, called Tappington Gate, Shall receive a Reward of Five Pounds for his trouble,— (
N.B.—If defunct the Reward will be double!!
)'
"Had he been above ground He must have been found. No; doubtless he's shot,—or he's hang'd,—or he's drown'd!— Then his Widow—ay! ay!— But, what will folk say!— To address her at once—at so early a day! Well—what then?—who cares?—let 'em say what they may— A fig for their nonsense and chatter!—suffice it, her Charms will excuse one for casting sheep's eyes at her!"
When a man has decided As Captain MacBride did, And once fully made up his mind on the matter, he Can't be too prompt in unmasking his battery. He began on the instant, and vow'd that "her eyes Far exceeded in brilliance the stars in the skies,— That her lips were like roses—her cheeks were like lilies— Her breath had the odour of daffy-down-dillies!"— With a thousand more compliments equally true, And expressed in similitudes equally new! —Then his left arm he placed Round her jimp, taper waist— —Ere she'd fix'd to repulse, or return, his embrace, Up came running a man, at a deuce of a pace, With that very peculiar expression of face Which always betokens dismay or disaster, Crying out,—'twas the Gardener,—"Oh, Ma'am! we've found Master!"— —"Where? where?" scream'd the lady; and Echo scream'd— "Where?"— —The man couldn't say "There!" He had no breath to spare, But, gasping for air, he could only respond, By pointing—he pointed, alas!—to the pond!!
—'Twas e'en so—poor dear Knight!—with his "specs" and his hat He'd gone poking his nose into this and to that; When, close to the side Of the bank, he espied An "uncommon fine" Tadpole, remarkably fat! He stooped;—and he thought her His own;—he had caught her! Got hold of her tail,—and to land almost brought her, When—he plump'd head and heels into fifteen feet water!
The Lady Jane was tall and slim, The Lady Jane was fair, Alas, for Sir Thomas!—she grieved for him, As she saw two serving-men, sturdy of limb, His body between them bear. She sobb'd, and she sigh'd; she lamented, and cried, For of sorrow brimful was her cup; She swoon'd, and I think she'd have fall'n down and died, If Captain MacBride Had not been by her side, With the Gardener; they both their assistance supplied, And managed to hold her up.— But, when she "comes to," Oh! 'tis shocking to view The sight which the corpse reveals! Sir Thomas's body, It look'd so odd—he Was half eaten up by the eels! His waistcoat and hose, and the rest of his clothes Were all gnawed through and through; And out of each shoe An eel they drew; And from each of his pockets they pull'd out two! And the Gardener himself had secreted a few, As well we may suppose; For, when he came running to give the alarm, He had six in the basket that hung on his arm.
Good Father John[78] Was summon'd anon; Holy water was sprinkled, And little bells tinkled, And tapers were lighted, And incense ignited, And masses were sung, and masses were said, All day, for the quiet repose of the dead, And all night no one thought about going to bed.