George Farrow - Absurd Ditties

"Oi'm commin', sor, to thot," sez Oi.
"Lie quiet, sor, an' still,
While Oi go an' make yer Madjisty
Me cilebratid pill."
In the pocket ov me jacket
Oi had found an old ship's biscuit
("An' Oi think," sez Oi, "'twill do," sez Oi,
"At any rate Oi'll risk it").

The biscuit it wuz soft an' black
By raisin ov the wet,
An' it made the foinist pill, sor,
Thot Oi've iver seen as yet;
It wuz flavoured rayther sthrongly
Wid salt wather an' tobaccy,
But, be jabers, sor, it did the thrick,
An' cured the blissid blackie!

The King wuz as deloighted,
An' as grateful as could be,
An' he got devorced from all his woives,
An' giv the lot to me;
But a steamer, passin' handy,
Wuz more plazin' to "yours trooly,"
An' among the passingers aboard
Wuz the "Docthor", – Pat O'Dooley.

You may have met, when walking out
or thereabout,
A lady (angular and plain)
Escorted by an ancient swain,
Or, possibly, by two,
Each leading by a piece of string
A lazy, fat, and pampered thing
Supposed to be a dog. You may,
Perhaps, have noticed them, I say,
And, if so, thought, "They do
Present unto the public gaze
A singular appearance – very."
That lady, doubtless, was my aunt,
Miss Betsy Jane Priscilla Perry.

The gentleman – or gentle men —
Attending her were Captain Venne
And Major Alec Stubbs. These two
For many years had sought to woo
My maiden aunt, Miss P.,
Who never could make up her mind
Which one to marry, so was kind
To one or other – each in turn —
Thus causing jealous pangs to burn.
I incidentally
Should mention here the quadrupeds —
Respectively called "Popsey Petsey," —
A mongrel pug; – and "Baby Heart," —
A poodle – both belonged to Betsy.

You'd notice Captain Venne was tall,
And Major Stubbs compact and small;
These two on nought could e'er agree,
Except in this – they hated me,
Sole nephew to Aunt Bess.
My aunt was very wealthy, and
I think you'll quickly understand
The situation, when I say
That Captain Venne was on half-pay,
And Major Stubbs on less .
To me it was so very plain
And evident, I thought it funny
My aunt should never, never see
They wanted, not her, but her money.

And Stubbs and Venne they did arrange
A plan, intended to estrange
My aunt and me. They told her lies;
And one day, to my great surprise,
A letter came for me.
Requesting me to "call at six,"
For aunt had "heard of all the tricks
I had been up to," and "was sad
At hearing an account so bad."
I went – in time for tea.
My aunt was looking so severe
I felt confused, a perfect noodle
While Major Stubbs caressed the pug,
And Captain Venne he nursed the poodle.

"Dear Major Stubbs," my aunt began,
"Has told me all – quite all he can —
Of your sad goings on. Oh, fie!
Where will you go to when you die,
You naughty wicked boy?"
And Captain Venne has told me too
What very dreadful things you do.
Of course I cannot but believe
My two dear friends. They'd not deceive,
Nor characters destroy,
Without a cause. Go, leave me now,
You'll see my purpose shall not falter
I'll send at once for Lawyer Slymm,
My latest will to bring and alter."

I fear I lost my temper – quite;
I know I said what wasn't right;
You see, I felt it hard to bear
(And really, I contend, unfair),
To be misjudged like this.
I tried to argue, but 'twas vain,
"My mind is fixed – my way is plain,"
My aunt declared. "Then hear me now!"
I hotly cried, "There's naught, I vow,
To cause you to dismiss
Your nephew thus, but, as you please.
And if, perchance, you wish to do it,
Your money leave to your two friends;
They want it, and – they're welcome to it."

I hurried out. I slammed the door.
I vowed I'd never call there more.
And neither did I, in my pride,
Till six weeks since, when poor aunt died,
And then, from Lawyer Slymm
I got a little note, which said:
"The will on Tuesday will be read."
I went, and found that "Baby Heart"
From Captain Venne must ne'er depart —
She had been left to him;
While "Popsey Petsey" Major Stubbs
Received as his sole legacy
And that was all. The money – oh!
The money – that was left to me .

Of all the schools throughout the land
St. Vedast's is the oldest, and
All men are proud
(And justly proud)
Who claim St. Vedast's as their Al-
Ma mater . There I went a cal-
Low youth. Don't think I'm going to paint
The glories of this school – I ain't.

The Rev. Cecil Rowe, M.A.,
Was classics Master in my day,
A learned man
(A worthy man)
In fact you'd very rarely see
A much more clever man than he.
But if you think you'll hear a lot
About this person, – you will not.

The porter was a man named Clarke;
We boys considered it a lark
To play him tricks
(The usual tricks
Boys play at public schools like this),
And Clarke would sometimes take amiss
These tricks. But don't think I would go
And only sing of him. Oh, no!

This ditty, I would beg to state,
Professes likewise to relate
The latter words
(The solemn words)
Of her who kept the tuck-shop at
St. Vedast's. I'd inform you that
The porter was her only son
(The reason was – she had but one).

For many years the worthy soul
Had kept the shop – the well-loved goal
Of little boys
(And larger boys)
Who bought the tarts, and ginger pop
And other things sold at her shop —
But, feebler growing year by year,
She felt her end was drawing near.

She therefore bade her son attend,
That she might whisper, ere her end,
A startling tale
(A secret tale)
That on her happiness had preyed,
And heavy on her conscience weighed
For many a year. "Alas! my son,"
She sighed, "injustice has been done.

"Let not your bitter anger rise,
Nor gaze with sad reproachful eyes
On one who's been
(You know I've been)
For many years your mother, dear;
And though you think my story queer,
Believe – or I shall feel distressed —
I thought I acted for the best.

"When you were but a tiny boy
(Your mother's and your father's joy),
Good Mr. Rowe
(The Revd. Rowe)
Was but a little baby too,
Who very much resembled you,
And, being poorly off in purse,
I took this baby out to nurse.

"Alike in features and in size —
So like, indeed, the keenest eyes
Would find it hard
(Extremely hard)
To tell the t'other from the one – "
"Hold! though your tale is but begun,"
The porter cried, "a man may guess
The secret of your keen distress.

"You changed the babes at nurse, and I
(No wonder that you weep and sigh),
Tho' callèd Clarke
(School Porter Clarke),
Am really Mr. Rowe. I see.
And he, of course, poor man, is me ,
While all the fortune he has known
Through these long years should be my own.