Fifty "Bab" Ballads: Much Sound and Little Sense by Gilbert, W. S. (William Schwenck), Sir, 1836-1911

"My daughter, that enchanting gurl, Has just been promised to an Earl, And all my other familee To peers of various degree.

"But what are dukes and viscounts to The happiness of all my crew? The word I gave you I'll fulfil; It is my duty, and I will.

"As you desire it shall befall, I'll settle thousands on you all, And I shall be, despite my hoard, The only bachelor on board."

The boatswain of The Mantelpiece, He blushed and spoke to CAPTAIN REECE: "I beg your honour's leave," he said; "If you would wish to go and wed,

"I have a widowed mother who Would be the very thing for you - She long has loved you from afar: She washes for you, CAPTAIN R."

The Captain saw the dame that day - Addressed her in his playful way - "And did it want a wedding ring? It was a tempting ickle sing!

"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek, We'll all be married this day week At yonder church upon the hill; It is my duty, and I will!"

The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece, And widowed Ma of CAPTAIN REECE, Attended there as they were bid; It was their duty, and they did.

Ballad: THE RIVAL CURATES.

List while the poet trolls Of MR. CLAYTON HOOPER, Who had a cure of souls At Spiffton-extra-Sooper.

He lived on curds and whey, And daily sang their praises, And then he'd go and play With buttercups and daisies.

Wild croquet HOOPER banned, And all the sports of Mammon, He warred with cribbage, and He exorcised backgammon.

His helmet was a glance That spoke of holy gladness; A saintly smile his lance; His shield a tear of sadness.

His Vicar smiled to see This armour on him buckled: With pardonable glee He blessed himself and chuckled.

"In mildness to abound My curate's sole design is; In all the country round There's none so mild as mine is!"

And HOOPER, disinclined His trumpet to be blowing, Yet didn't think you'd find A milder curate going.

A friend arrived one day At Spiffton-extra-Sooper, And in this shameful way He spoke to Mr. HOOPER:

"You think your famous name For mildness can't be shaken, That none can blot your fame - But, HOOPER, you're mistaken!

"Your mind is not as blank As that of HOPLEY PORTER, Who holds a curate's rank At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

"HE plays the airy flute, And looks depressed and blighted, Doves round about him 'toot,' And lambkins dance delighted.

"HE labours more than you At worsted work, and frames it; In old maids' albums, too, Sticks seaweed--yes, and names it!"

The tempter said his say, Which pierced him like a needle - He summoned straight away His sexton and his beadle.

(These men were men who could Hold liberal opinions: On Sundays they were good - On week-days they were minions.)

"To HOPLEY PORTER go, Your fare I will afford you - Deal him a deadly blow, And blessings shall reward you.

"But stay--I do not like Undue assassination, And so before you strike, Make this communication:

"I'll give him this one chance - If he'll more gaily bear him, Play croquet, smoke, and dance, I willingly will spare him."

They went, those minions true, To Assesmilk-cum-Worter, And told their errand to The REVEREND HOPLEY PORTER.