The World’s Wit and Humor: An Encyclopedia in 15 Volumes. 1906.
William Edmondstoune Aytoun (18131865) and Sir Theodore Martin (18161909)The Lay of the Love-Lorn
From “Bon Gaultier Ballads”
C
I shall leave you for a little, for I’d like to take the air.
Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little queer.
When you want me, ask the waiter, he knows where I’m to be had!
Resting here beneath the porch, my nerves will steady like a rock.
Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there’s a brace of moons!
Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to despair.
I must wear the mournful willow—all around my hat I’ve bound it.
Puppet to a father’s anger, minion to a nabob’s love!
Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a liver?
Changing from the best of china to the commonest of clay.
And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of his gold.
Something lower than his hookah, something less than his cayenne.
Bless your soul, it was the salmon—salmon always makes him so.
He will understand thee, won’t he—pay thee with a lover’s glances?
Nasal respirations answer the endearments of his bride.
Till the spirit fill thy bosom that inspired the meek Lafarge.
Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel Good!
With a pan of burning charcoal underneath our nuptial bed!
Cursed be the want of acres—doubly cursed the want of tin!
Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the deed!
Cursed be the clerk and parson—cursed be the whole concern!
Better comfort have I found in singing “All Around My Hat.”
’Twill not do to pine for ever: I am getting up in years.
And in writing Sunday libels drown my private wretchedness?
When my days were all before me, and my years were twenty-two;
With the many larks of London flaring up on every side;
Coffee-milling care and sorrow, with a nose-adapted thumb;
Brandy at the Cider Cellars, kidneys smoking-hot at Evans’;
Saw the glorious melodrama conjure up the shades of years—
Snapping Newgate’s bars of iron, like an infant’s daisy chain;
Were despised and prigging prospered, spite of Laurie, spite of law.
And my cousin’s cold refusal left me very much disgusted!
Whether worse shall be the better, or the better be the worse.
They would mock me in derision, should I thus appear before ’em.
In the most expensive satins, and the newest silk brocade.
Rarer robes and finer tissue than are sold at Spitalfields.
I shall walk the tangled jungle in mankind’s primeval pride;
Lots of dates and lots of guavas, clusters of forbidden fruit.
Sounds the oath of British commerce, or the accents of Cockaigne.
Sink the steamboats! Cuss the railways! Rot, oh, rot the Three per Cents!
I will take some savage woman—nay, I’ll take at least a dozen.
They shall dive for alligators, catch the wild goats by the beard,
Worship mighty Mumbo Jumbo, in the mountains of the Moon.
Ride a-tiger-hunting, mounted on a thorough-bred giraffe.
Startling from their noon-day slumbers iron-bound rhinoceroses.
For I hold the gray barbarian lower than the Christian cad.
I to haunt with squalid Negroes, blubber-lips, and monkey faces!
To secure the heart and fortune of the widow Shillibeer!
Maids ere now, I know, have loved me, and another maiden may.
I will pen an advertisement—that’s a never-failing plan:
Looks are not so much an object, if the shiners be forthcoming!
Please address to A. T., Chelsea. N. B.—You must pay the letters.”
Rest thee with thy yellow nabob, spider-hearted cousin Amy!