II. A serjeant soon came down to York, My lads, said he, let broadcast be, III. But when he wanted John to 'list, Where what is call'd a raw recruit, Gets often over-done. IV. Let others carry guns, said he, V. For John he had a footman's place Her family was high. VI. Now when two years had past away, VII. Said John, I am a proper man, And very tall to see; Who knows, but now her Lord is low, She may look up to me? VIII. A cunning woman told me once, But studied in a cup! IX. So he walk'd up to Lady Wye, She thought, tho' John was tall enough, X. But John-for why? she was a dame Of such a dwarfish sort- Her mourning very short. XI. Said he, your Lord is dead and cold, You only cry in vain ; Not all the Cries of London now, XII. You'll soon have many a noble beau, To dry your noble tears But just consider this, that I Have follow'd you for years. XIII. And tho' you are above me far, When you are only four foot nine, And I am six foot three? XIV. For tho' you are of lofty race, And I'm a low-born elf; Yet none among your friends could say, XV. Said she, such insolence as this Can be no common case; Tho' you are in my service, sir, Your love is out of place. XVI. O Lady Wye! O Lady Wye! How can you be so short with me, XVII. Then ringing for her serving men, XVIII. They stripp'd his coat, and gave him kicks For all his wages due; And off, instead of green and gold, He went in black and blue. XIX. No family would take him in, Because of this discharge; So he made up his mind to serve XX. Huzza! the Serjeant cried, and put And with a shilling cut him off XXI. For when his regiment went to fight At Saragossa town, A Frenchman thought he look'd too tall And so he cut him down! ONE widow at a grave will sob To have a rubber in a trice- Poor Mrs. C (why should I not Declare her name?-her name was Cross) |