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Read Ebook: More Bab Ballads by Gilbert W S William Schwenck
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Ebook has 224 lines and 8371 words, and 5 pages
Boys whose good breeding is innate, Whose sums are always right; And boys who don't expostulate When sent to bed at night;
And kindly boys who never search The nests of birds of song; And serious boys for whom, in church, No sermon is too long.
Contrast with JAMES'S greedy haste And comprehensive hand, The nice discriminating taste Of APPLEBODY BLAND.
BLAND only eats bad boys, who swear-- Who CAN behave, but DON'T-- Disgraceful lads who say "don't care," And "shan't," and "can't," and "won't."
Who wet their shoes and learn to box, And say what isn't true, Who bite their nails and jam their frocks, And make long noses too;
Who kick a nurse's aged shin, And sit in sulky mopes; And boys who twirl poor kittens in Distracting zoetropes.
But JAMES, when he was quite a youth, Had often been to school, And though so bad, to tell the truth, He wasn't quite a fool.
At logic few with him could vie; To his peculiar sect He could propose a fallacy With singular effect.
So, when his Mentors said, "Expound-- Why eat good children--why?" Upon his Mentors he would round With this absurd reply:
"I have been taught to love the good-- The pure--the unalloyed-- And wicked boys, I've understood, I always should avoid.
"Why do I eat good children--why? Because I love them so!"
"Away, away!" his Mentors cried, "Thou uncongenial pest! A quirk's a thing we can't abide, A quibble we detest!
"A fallacy in your reply Our intellect descries, Although we don't pretend to spy Exactly where it lies.
"In misery and penal woes Must end a glutton's joys; And learn how ogres punish those Who dare to eat good boys.
"Secured by fetter, cramp, and chain, And gagged securely--so-- You shall be placed in Drury Lane, Where only good lads go.
"Surrounded there by virtuous boys, You'll suffer torture wus Than that which constantly annoys Disgraceful TANTALUS.
"But as for BLAND who, as it seems, Eats only naughty boys, We've planned a recompense that teems With gastronomic joys.
"Where wicked youths in crowds are stowed He shall unquestioned rule, And have the run of Hackney Road Reformatory School!"
Ballad: Little Oliver
EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party Whom nothing ever could put out, Though eighty-two, he still was hearty, Excepting as regarded gout.
He had one unexampled daughter, The LADY MINNIE-HAHA JOYCE, Fair MINNIE-HAHA, "Laughing Water," So called from her melodious voice.
Aloof from all the lordly flockings Of titled swells who worshipped her, There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings, One humble lover--OLIVER.
He was no peer by Fortune petted, His name recalled no bygone age; He was no lordling coronetted-- Alas! he was a simple page!
With vain appeals he never bored her, But stood in silent sorrow by-- He knew how fondly he adored her, And knew, alas! how hopelessly!
Well grounded by a village tutor In languages alive and past, He'd say unto himself, "Knee-suitor, Oh, do not go beyond your last!"
But though his name could boast no handle, He could not every hope resign; As moths will hover round a candle, So hovered he about her shrine.
The brilliant candle dazed the moth well: One day she sang to her Papa The air that MARIE sings with BOTHWELL In NEIDERMEYER'S opera.
And then, before the piano closing , She sang a song of her composing-- I give one verse from half a score:
BALLAD
Why, pretty page, art ever sighing? Is sorrow in thy heartlet lying? Come, set a-ringing Thy laugh entrancing, And ever singing And ever dancing. Ever singing, Tra! la! la! Ever dancing, Tra! la! la! Ever singing, ever dancing, Ever singing, Tra! la! la!
He skipped for joy like little muttons, He danced like Esmeralda's kid.
Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her, He wore out many pairs of soles; He danced when taking down the dinner-- He danced when bringing up the coals.
He danced and sang With his incessant "Tra! la! la!" Which much surprised the noble maiden, And puzzled even her Papa.
He nourished now his flame and fanned it, He even danced at work below. The upper servants wouldn't stand it, And BOWLES the butler told him so.
At length on impulse acting blindly, His love he laid completely bare; The gentle Earl received him kindly And told the lad to take a chair.
"Oh, sir," the suitor uttered sadly, "Don't give your indignation vent; I fear you think I'm acting madly, Perhaps you think me insolent?"
The kindly Earl repelled the notion; His noble bosom heaved a sigh, His fingers trembled with emotion, A tear stood in his mild blue eye:
For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly The half-forgotten time when he, A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly A governess of forty-three!
"My boy," he said, in tone consoling, "Give up this idle fancy--do-- The song you heard my daughter trolling Did not, indeed, refer to you.
"I feel for you, poor boy, acutely; I would not wish to give you pain; Your pangs I estimate minutely,-- I, too, have loved, and loved in vain.
"But still your humble rank and station For MINNIE surely are not meet"-- He said much more in conversation Which it were needless to repeat.
Now I'm prepared to bet a guinea, Were this a mere dramatic case, The page would have eloped with MINNIE, But, no--he only left his place.
The simple Truth is my detective, With me Sensation can't abide; The Likely beats the mere Effective, And Nature is my only guide.
Ballad: Pasha Bailey Ben
A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN, His wives were three, his tails were ten; His form was dignified, but stout, Men called him "Little Roundabout."
His Importance
Pale Pilgrims came from o'er the sea To wait on PASHA BAILEY B., All bearing presents in a crowd, For B. was poor as well as proud.
His Presents
They brought him onions strung on ropes, And cold boiled beef, and telescopes, And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns, And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns.
More of them
They brought him white kid gloves, and pails, And candlesticks, and potted quails, And capstan-bars, and scales and weights, And ornaments for empty grates.
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