Monsieur Modeau was crazy and old, And Monsieur Modeau caught a terrible cold, His nose was stuffed, and his throat was sore, He had physic by the quart and Doctors by the score. They sent squills And pills, And very long bills And all they could do did not make him get well, He sounded his M's and his N's like an L. A shocking bad cough At last took him off, And Mister Lagardie her former young beau, Came a courting again to the Widow Modeau.
Mister Lagardie, to gain him éclat, Had cut the Cook's shop and followed the law; And when Monsieur Modeau set out on his journey, Was an Articled Clerk to a Special Attorney. He gave her a call On the day of a ball, To which she'd invited the court, camp and all; But "poor dear Lagardie" Again was too tardy, For a Marshal of France Had just asked her to dance; In a twinkling, the ci-devant Madame Modeau Was wife of the Marshal Lord Marquis Dinot. Mister Lagardie was shocked at the news, And went and enlisted at once in the Blues. The Marquis Dinot Felt a little so so— Took physic, grew worse, and had notice to go— He died, and was shelved, and his Lady so gay Smiled again on Lagardie now placed on full pay, A Swedish Field-Marshal with a guinea a day; When an old ex-King Just showed her the ring: To be Queen, she conceived was a very fine thing; But the King turned a Monk, And Lagardie got drunk, And said to the Lady with a deal of ill-breeding, "You may go to the d—l and I'll go to Sweden." Thus between the two stools, Like some other fools, Her Ladyship found Herself plump on the ground; So she cried, and she stamped, and she sent for a hack, And she drove to a convent and never came back.
Moral.
Wives, Maidens, and Widows, attend to my lay If a fine moral lesson you'd draw from a play, To the Haymarket go And see Marie Mignot, Miss Kelly plays Marie, and Williams Modeau; Mrs. Glover and Vining Are really quite shining, And though Thompson for a Marquis Has almost too much carcass, Yet it's not fair to pass him or John Cooper's Cassimir, And the piece would be barren Without Mr. Farren; No matter, go there, and they'll teach you the guilt Of coquetting and ogling, and playing the jilt. Such folks gallop awhile, but at last they get spilt; Had Molly Mignot Behaved comme il faut, Nor married the Lawyer nor Marquis Dinot, She had ne'er been a nun, whose fare very hard is, But the mother of half-a-score little Lagardies.
[THE TRUANTS.]
Three little Demons have broken loose From the National School below! They are resolved to play truant to-day, Their primer and slate they have cast away, And away, away they go! "Hey boys! hey boys! up go we! Who so merry as we three?"
The reek of that most infernal pit, Where sinful souls are stewing, Rises so black, that in viewing it, A thousand to one but you'd ask with surprise As its murky columns meet your eyes, "Pray is Old Nick a-brewing?" Thither these three little Devils repair, And mount by steam to the uppermost air.
They have got hold of a wandering star, That happened to come within hail. O swiftly they glide! As they merrily ride All a cock-stride Of that Comet's tail. Oh the pranks! Oh the pranks, The merry pranks, the mad pranks, These wicked urchins play! They kissed the Virgin and filled her with dread, They popped the Scorpion into her bed; They broke the pitcher of poor Aquarius, They stole the arrows of Sagittarius, And they skimmed the Milky Way. They filled the Scales with sulphur full, They halloed the Dog-star on at the Bull, And pleased themselves with the noise. They set the Lion On poor Orion; They shaved all the hair Off the Lesser Bear! They kicked the shins Of the Gemini Twins— Those heavenly Siamese Boys!— Never was such confusion and wrack, As they produced in the Zodiac!—
"Huzza! Huzza! Away! Away! Let us go down to the earth and play! Now we go up, up, up, Now we go down, down, down, Now we go backwards, and forwards, Now we go round, round, round!" Thus they gambol, and scramble, and tear, Till at last they arrive at the nethermost air.
And pray now what were these Devilets called? These three little Fiends so gay? One was Cob! Another was Mob! The last and the least was young Chittabob! Queer little Devils were they! Cob was the strongest, Mob was the wrongest, Chittabob's tail was the finest and longest! Three more frolicsome Imps, I ween, Beelzebub's self hath seldom seen.