Thomas Chandler Haliburton - Nothing to Eat

But fighting just now is not our intention,
But dining with Merdle, the banker, in state,
And only these items like side dishes mention,
While waiting the coming the main dinner plate.

While waiting debating I stated before,
Jack Merdle drove up in his carriage and bays,
“Halloo,” said the banker, “I see you’re ashore—
No wonder—this weather is all in a haze—
But come in my carriage, and truly confess
You’re a victim of hunger and dinner down town;
A case of most common distressing distress;
When dining in public with Jones, Smith or Brown,
Or some other practical men of the nation,
Is worse on the whole than a little starvation.

But come home with me for the sake of Lang Syne,
And see Mrs. Merdle and see how we dine.

I must not expect,” he advised in advance,
“To meet with a dinner got up in perfection,
But must run the risk of the luck and the chance,
As candidates do on the day of election.”

Now Merdle, en passant , I had known for a score
Of years, when a dinner with Jones, Brown or Smith
As good as one gets for a quarter or more,
Was a thing unthought of, or else but a myth
In Merde’s day-dreaming of things yet in store,
When hope painted visions of a painted abode,
And hope never hoped for anything more—
I’m sure never dreamed he would dine a la mode .

In dreams wildest fancy I doubt if he dreamed,
That time in its changes that wears rocky shores,
Should change what so changeless certainly seemed,
Till Merdle, Jack Merdle, would own twenty stores,
Much more own a bank, e’en the horse that he rode,
Or pay half the debts of the wild oats he sowed.

I knew when he worked at his old father’s trade,
And thought he would stick to his wax and the last,
But Fortune, the fickle, incontinent jade,
A turn to his fortune has given a cast;
“A wife with a fortune,” which men hunt in packs,
To Jack was the fortune that fell to his share;
A fortune that often is such a hard tax,
That men hurry through it with “nothing to spare,”
With “nothing to eat,” or a house “fit to live in,”
With “nothing half decent” to put on their backs,
With nothing “exclusive” to have or believe in,
“Except what is common to common street hacks.”

So fortune and comfort, that should be like brothers,
Though fought for and bled for where fortunes are made,
Though sought for and failed of by ten thousand others,
Are not worth the fighting and fuss that is made.

But fortune for Merdle by Cupid was cast,
And bade him look higher than wax and the last,
That Merdle his father, with good honest trade,
Had used with the stitches his waxed end had made.

I knew when old Merdle lived down by the mill,
I often went fishing and Jack dug the bait;
But Jack Merdle then never thought he should fill
With fish and roast meat such a full dinner plate:
Nor I, when my line which I threw for a trout
While Jack watched the bob of the light floating cork,