Command, resolve, determine,—
Beneath a tent of gold,
In swan’s-down and in ermine,
If Christmas should be cold!
I am not very rich,
But would give a golden guinea
To see that little witch,
That happy pick-a-ninny!
He bowed to my own daughter,
And Polly is her name;
She wore a shirt of slaughter,
Of Garibaldi flame,—
Of course I mean of scarlet;
But the girl he kissed—who knows?—
May be named Selina Charlotte,
And dressed in yellow clothes!
I look for her in church,
I seek her in the crowd;
Some bellman on a perch
Ought to ask for her out loud!
I would offer a reward,
But I might get cheated then,
And I cannot well afford
To make that guinea ten.
She may live up in Lancashire,
All in her yellow gown,
Or down in Hankypankyshire,
Or here in London town.
She may be on board a steamer
Upon the briny sea—
O stewardess! esteem her,
For a glorious girl is she!
Perhaps at some academy
Her Télémaque is read—
They would think it very bad of me
To turn her little head!
She may be doing fancy-work,
She may be taking tea;
But I wish some necromancy-work
Would bring that girl to me!