And my pooty little Prince
That's come our arts to cheer,
Let me my loyal powers ewince
A welcomin of you ere.
And the Poit-Laureat's crownd,
I think, in some respex,
Egstremely shootable might be found
For honest Pleaseman X.
THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUNDLING OF SHOREDITCH. W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
Come, all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail,
It is all about a Doctor was traveling by the rail,
By the Heastern Counties Railway (vich the shares don't desire),
From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire.
A traveling from Bury this Doctor was employed
With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd;
And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchester,
a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed.
She entered into the carriage all with a tottering step,
And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep;
The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty,
Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty.
She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said,
Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead.
Better to travel by secknd class than sit alone in the fust,
And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust.
A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail,
To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail;
Saysee you look unwell, ma'am, I'll elp you if I can,
And you may tell your case to me, for I'm a meddicle man.
"Thank you, sir," the lady said, "I only look so pale,
Because I ain't accustom'd to traveling on the rale;
I shall be better presnly, when I've ad some rest:"
And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast.
So in conwersation the journey they beguiled,
Capting Loyd and the medical man, and the lady and the child,
Till the warious stations along the line was passed,
For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last.