THE SUPPER SUPERSTITION

A PATHETIC BALLAD

"Oh flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!"-MERCUTIO.

I

"TWAS twelve o'clock by Chelsea chimes, When all in hungry trim,

Good Mister Jupp sat down to sup

With wife, and Kate, and Jim.

When, whiter than the tablecloth,
A GHOST came rising up!

III

"O father dear, O mother dear,

Dear Kate, and brother Jim—

You know when some one went to sea

Don't cry-but I am him!

IV

"You hope some day with fond embrace To greet your absent Jack,

But oh, I am come here to say

I'm never coming back!

V

"From Alexandria we set sail,

With corn, and oil, and figs,

But steering 'too much Sow,' we struck
Upon the Sow and Pigs !

VI

"The ship we pumped till we could see Old England from the tops;

When down she went with all our hands, Right in the Channel's Chops.

VII

"Just give a look in Norey's chart,
The very place it tells;

I think it says twelve fathom deep,
Clay bottom, mixed with shells.

VIII

"Well, there we are till 'hands aloft,'
We have at last a call;

The pug I had for brother Jim,
Kate's parrot too, and all.

IX

"But oh, my spirit cannot rest
In Davy Jones's sod,

Till I've appeared to you and said-
Don't sup on that 'ere Cod!

X

“You live on land, and little think

What passes in the sea;

Last Sunday week, at 2 P.M.,

That Cod was picking me!

XI

"Those oysters, too, that look so plump,

And seem so nicely done,

They put my corpse in many shells,

Instead of only one.

XII

"Oh, do not eat those oysters then,
And do not touch the shrimps;
When I was in my briny grave,
They sucked my blood like imps !

XIII

"Don't eat what brutes would never eat, The brutes I used to pat,

They'll know the smell they used to smell, Just try the dog and cat!”

XIV

The spirit fled-they wept his fate,

And cried, Alack, alack!

At last up started brother Jim,
"Let's try if Jack was Jack!"

XV

They called the Dog, they called the Cat,
And little Kitten too,

And down they put the Cod and sauce,
To see what brutes would do.

XVI

Old Tray licked all the oysters up,
Puss never stood at crimps,
But munched the Cod-and little Kit
Quite feasted on the shrimps!

XVII

The thing was odd, and minus Cod
And sauce, they stood like posts;
Oh, prudent folks, for fear of hoax,
Put no belief in Ghosts!

THE DUEL

A SERIOUS BALLAD

"Like the two Kings of Brentford smelling at one nosegay."

IN Brentford town, of old renown,

There lived a Mister Bray,
Who fell in love with Lucy Bell,
And so did Mr. Clay.

To see her ride from Hammersmith,
By all it was allowed,

Such fair outsides are seldom seen,

Such Angels on a Cloud.

Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay,

You choose to rival me,

And court Miss Bell, but there your court
No thoroughfare shall be.

Unless you now give up your suit,
You may repent your love;
I who have shot a pigeon match,
Can shoot a turtle dove.

So pray before you woo her more,
Consider what you do;

If you pop aught to Lucy Bell-
I'll pop it into you.

Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray,

Your threats I quite explode;
One who has been a volunteer
Knows how to prime and load.

And so I say to you unless
Your passion quiet keeps,

I who have shot and hit bulls' eyes,
May chance to hit a sheep's.

Now gold is oft for silver changed,
And that for copper red;

But these two went away to give
Each other change for lead.

But first they sought a friend apiece,
This pleasant thought to give-

When they were dead, they thus should have
Two seconds still to live.

To measure out the ground not long
The seconds then forbore,

And having taken one rash step,
They took a dozen more.

They next prepared each pistol-pan
Against the deadly strife,
By putting in the prime of death
Against the prime of life.

Now all was ready for the foes,

But when they took their stands, Fear made them tremble so, they found They both were shaking hands.

Said Mr. C. to Mr. B.,

Here one of us may fall,

And like St. Paul's Cathedral now

Be doomed to have a ball.

I do confess I did attach

Misconduct to your name;

If I withdraw the charge, will then
Your ramrod do the same?