Joseph Ashby-Sterry - The Lazy Minstrel

What surquayne or partlet could look better than
My saint's curly jacket of black Astracan?
What coif than her bonnet – a triumph of skill —
Or alb than her petticoat, edged with a frill.
Would she love, would she honour, and would she obey ?
I wonder while gazing across at Saint May!

The sermon is finished, the blessing is o'er,
The sparse congregation drift out at the door;
I pause as I pass down the gloomy old aisle,
To see my saint pass and perchance get a smile:
I would daily change faith like the Vicar of Bray,
Could I pass all my life in adoring Saint May!

Through the weary dull week, as it rolls on apace,
I'm haunted by thoughts of that tender young face;
And oft, O how oft, does the vision arise —
The pureness and truth of those eloquent eyes!
And I long for the hour, and I count on the day,
When I sit at a distance and worship Saint May!

No doubt you'll be vastly surprised when you're told
Her name, in the Calendar, ne'er was enrolled —
They prattled of "May," the sweet sisterly pair,
I added the "Saint," – she was canonized there!
Ah! if saints might wed sinners, I'd yield to her sway,
And I straightway would fall on my knees to Saint May!

IN your canoe, love, when you are going,
With white sail flowing, and merry song;
In your canoe, love, with ripples gleaming
And sunshine beaming, you drift along!
While you are dreaming, or idly singing,
Your sweet voice ringing, when skies are blue:
In summer days, love, on water-ways, love,
You like to laze, love, – in your canoe!

In your canoe, love, I'd be a tripper,
If you were skipper and I were mate;
In your canoe, love, where sedges shiver
And willows quiver, we'd navigate!
Upon the River, you'd ne'er be lonely,
For, if you only had room for two,
I'd pass my leisure with greatest pleasure
With you, my treasure, – in your canoe!

In your canoe, love, when breezes sigh light,
In tender twilight, we'd drift away;
In your canoe, love, light as a feather,
Were we together – what should I say?
In sunny weather, were Fates propitious,
A tale delicious I'd tell to you!
In quiet spots, love, forget-me-nots, love,
We'd gather lots, love, – in your canoe!

MIRROR your sweet eyes in mine, love,
See how they glitter and shine!
Quick fly such moments divine, love,
Link your lithe fingers in mine!

Lay your soft cheek against mine, love,
Pillow your head on my breast;
While your brown locks I entwine, love,
Pout your red lips when they're prest!

Mirror your fate, then, in mine, love;
Sorrow and sighing resign:
Life is too short to repine, love,
Link your fair future in mine!

LET others wear, upon the Spa,
The "Rubens" hat or bonnet;
The "Gainsborough," the Tuscan straw,
With marguerites upon it —
The "Pamela," of quaint design,
The "Zulu," or the "Planter" —
But as for me, I much incline
To wear my Tam o' Shanter!

Let others sport the fluffy hat,
The "Sailor Boy," or "Granny;"
The "Bargee," or some other that
Is anything but canny.
If petticoats be short or long,
Or fuller be or scanter,
Or if you think it right or wrong —
I'll wear my Tam o' Shanter!

I'll wear it if it's hot or cold,
Let weather what it may be!
Will this Child do "what she is told"?
Or is she quite a baby?
I do not care for my Mama,
Or Cousin Charlie's banter;
Despite the chaff of dear Papa,
I'll wear my Tam o' Shanter!

You ask me if I'll tell you why
I cannot do without it?
Because it keeps me cool and dry —
You seem inclined to doubt it?
The reason why? There, pray don't tease!
I'll tell you that instanter.
The reason is — Because I please
To wear my Tam o' Shanter!

UPON the Kerb, a maiden neat —
Her hazel eyes are passing sweet —
There stands and waits in dire distress:
The muddy road is pitiless,
And 'busses thunder down the street!

A snowy skirt, all frill and pleat;
Two tiny, well-shod, dainty feet
Peep out, beneath her kilted dress,
Upon the Kerb!

She'll first advance and then retreat,
Half frightened by a hansom fleet.
She looks around, I must confess,
With marvellous coquettishness! —
Then droops her eyes and looks discreet,
Upon the Kerb!

SHE was cargo and crew,
She was boatswain and skipper,
She was passenger too,
Of the Nutshell canoe;
And the eyes were so blue
Of this sweet tiny tripper!
She was cargo and crew,
She was boatswain and skipper!

How I bawled, "Ship, ahoy!"
Hard by Medmenham Ferry!
And she answered with joy,
She would like a convoy,
And would love to employ
A bold pilot so merry:
How I bawled, "Ship, ahoy!"
Hard by Medmenham Ferry!

'Neath the trees gold and red,
In that bright autumn weather,
When our white sails were spread,
O'er the waters we sped —
What was it she said?
When we drifted together!
'Neath the trees gold and red,
In that bright autumn weather!

Ah! the moments flew fast,
But our trip too soon ended!
When we reached land at last,
And our craft was made fast,
It was six or half-past —
And Mama looked offended!
Ah! the moments flew fast,
But our trip too soon ended!

MISS DIMPLECHEEK,
Your winsome face,
Your figure full of girlish grace,
Is quite unique!
Your pretty, poutful, childlike charm,
All criticism must disarm,
Miss Dimplecheek!

Miss Dimplecheek,
Ah! well-a-day,
I watch your pretty roses play
At hide and seek!
While York to Lancaster gives place,
And sweeter grows your pretty face —
Miss Dimplecheek!

Miss Dimplecheek,
I wonder if
You ever revel in a tiff,
Or pout in pique
Or droop those pretty eyelids down,
Or shake your shoulders, stamp, or frown,
Miss Dimplecheek?

Miss Dimplecheek,
I gaze, and then —
The most cantankerous of men
Grows mild and meek.
Your faults? Perchance you may have some —
But to your faults I'm blind and dumb —
Miss Dimplecheek.