The fame of his piping spread over the land:
Respectable widows proposed for his hand,
And maidens came flocking to sit on the green—
Especially Ellen M‘Jones Aberdeen.
One morning the fidgety Sassenach swore
He’d stand it no longer—he drew his claymore,
And (this was, I think, in extremely bad taste)
Divided Clonglocketty close to the waist.
Oh! loud were the wailings for Angus M‘Clan,
Oh! deep was the grief for that excellent man;
The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene—
Especially Ellen M‘Jones Aberdeen.
It sorrowed poor Pattison Corby Torbay
To find them “take on” in this serious way;
He pitied the poor little fluttering birds,
And solaced their souls with the following words:
“Oh, maidens,” said Pattison, touching his hat,
“Don’t blubber, my dears, for a fellow like that;
Observe, I’m a very superior man,
A much better fellow than Angus M‘Clan.”
They smiled when he winked and addressed them as “dears,”
And they all of them vowed, as they dried up their tears,
A pleasanter gentleman never was seen—
Especially Ellen M‘Jones Aberdeen.
PETER THE WAG
Policeman Peter forth I drag
From his obscure retreat:
He was a merry genial wag,
Who loved a mad conceit.
If he were asked the time of day,
By country bumpkins green,
He not unfrequently would say,
“A quarter past thirteen.”
If ever you by word of mouth
Inquired of Mister Forth
The way to somewhere in the South,
He always sent you North.
With little boys his beat along
He loved to stop and play;
He loved to send old ladies wrong,
And teach their feet to stray.
He would in frolic moments, when
Such mischief bent upon,
Take Bishops up as betting men—
Bid Ministers move on.
Then all the worthy boys he knew
He regularly licked,
And always collared people who
Had had their pockets picked.