"Alas! I was not born beneath The virgin and the scales, So I must curse my cruel stars, And walk about in Wales."

Now Ben had sailed to many a place That's underneath the world; But in two years the ship came home, And all her sails were furled.

But when he called on Sally Brown, To see how she got on, He found she'd got another Ben, Whose Christian name was John.

"O, Sally Brown, O, Sally Brown, How could you serve me so?

I've met with many a breeze before, But never such a blow!"

Then reading on his 'bacco-box, He heaved a heavy sigh, And then began to eye his pipe, And then to pipe his eye.

And then he tried to sing "All's Well,"

But could not, though he tried; His head was turned, and so he chewed His pigtail till he died.

His death, which happened in his berth, At forty-odd befell: They went and told the s.e.xton, and The s.e.xton tolled the bell.

_Thomas Hood._

TIM TURPIN

Tim Turpin he was gravel blind, And ne'er had seen the skies: For Nature, when his head was made, Forgot to dot his eyes.

So, like a Christmas pedagogue, Poor Tim was forced to do,-- Look out for pupils, for he had A vacancy for two.

There's some have specs to help their sight Of objects dim and small; But Tim had _specks_ within his eyes, And could not see at all.

Now Tim he wooed a servant maid, And took her to his arms; For he, like Pyramus, had cast A wall-eye on her charms.

By day she led him up and down Where'er he wished to jog, A happy wife, although she led The life of any dog.

But just when Tim had lived a month In honey with his wife, A surgeon oped his Milton eyes, Like oysters, with a knife.

But when his eyes were opened thus, He wished them dark again; For when he looked upon his wife, He saw her very plain.

Her face was bad, her figure worse, He couldn't bear to eat; For she was anything but like A Grace before his meat.

Now Tim he was a feeling man: For when his sight was thick, It made him feel for everything,-- But that was with a stick.

So, with a cudgel in his hand,-- It was not light or slim,-- He knocked at his wife's head until It opened unto him.

And when the corpse was stiff and cold, He took his slaughtered spouse, And laid her in a heap with all The ashes of her house.

But, like a wicked murderer, He lived in constant fear From day to day, and so he cut His throat from ear to ear.

The neighbors fetched a doctor in: Said he, "This wound I dread Can hardly be sewed up,--his life Is hanging on a thread."

But when another week was gone, He gave him stronger hope,-- Instead of hanging on a thread, Of hanging on a rope.

Ah! when he hid his b.l.o.o.d.y work, In ashes round about, How little he supposed the truth Would soon be sifted out!

But when the parish dustman came, His rubbish to withdraw, He found more dust within the heap Than he contracted for!

A dozen men to try the fact, Were sworn that very day; But though they all were jurors, yet No conjurors were they.

Said Tim unto those jurymen, "You need not waste your breath, For I confess myself, at once, The author of her death.

"And O, when I reflect upon The blood that I have spilt, Just like a b.u.t.ton is my soul, Inscribed with double _guilt_!"

Then turning round his head again He saw before his eyes A great judge, and a little judge, The judges of a-size!

The great judge took his judgment-cap, And put it on his head, And sentenced Tim by law to hang Till he was three times dead.

So he was tried, and he was hung (Fit punishment for such) On Horsham drop, and none can say It was a drop too much.

_Thomas Hood._

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms: But a cannon-ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms!

Now, as they bore him off the field, Said he, "Let others shoot, For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot!"

The army surgeons made him limbs: Said he, "They're only pegs; But there's as wooden members quite, As represent my legs!"

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, Her name was Nelly Gray; So he went to pay her his devours When he'd devoured his pay!

But when he called on Nelly Gray, She made him quite a scoff; And when she saw his wooden legs, Began to take them off!

"O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!

Is this your love so warm?

The love that loves a scarlet coat, Should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once, For he was blithe and brave; But I will never have a man With both legs in the grave!

"Before you had those timber toes, Your love I did allow, But then you know, you stand upon Another footing now!"

"O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!

For all your jeering speeches, At duty's call I left my legs In Badajos's breaches!"

"Why, then," said she, "you've lost the feet Of legs in war's alarms, And now you cannot wear your shoes Upon your feats of arms!"

"Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray; I know why you refuse: Though I've no feet--some other man Is standing in my shoes!