Oh, pause to think before you drink The dregs of Lethe's cup, MATILDA!

Remember, do, what I've gone through, Before you give me up, MATILDA!

Recall again the mental pain Of what I've had to do, MATILDA!

And be a.s.sured that I've endured It, all along of you, MATILDA!

Do you forget, my blithesome pet, How once with jealous rage, MATILDA, I watched you walk and gaily talk With some one thrice your age, MATILDA?

You squatted free upon his knee, A sight that made me sad, MATILDA!

You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak, Which almost drove me mad, MATILDA!

I knew him not, but hoped to spot Some man you thought to wed, MATILDA!

I took a gun, my darling one, And shot him through the head, MATILDA!

I'm made of stuff that's rough and gruff Enough, I own; but, ah, MATILDA!

It DID annoy your sailor boy To find it was your pa, MATILDA!

I've pa.s.sed a life of toil and strife, And disappointments deep, MATILDA; I've lain awake with dental ache Until I fell asleep, MATILDA!

At times again I've missed a train, Or p'rhaps run short of tin, MATILDA, And worn a boot on corns that shoot, Or, shaving, cut my chin, MATILDA.

But, oh! no trains--no dental pains - Believe me when I say, MATILDA, No corns that shoot--no pinching boot Upon a summer day, MATILDA - It's my belief, could cause such grief As that I've suffered for, MATILDA, My having shot in vital spot Your old progenitor, MATILDA.

Bethink you how I've kept the vow I made one winter day, MATILDA - That, come what could, I never would Remain too long away, MATILDA.

And, oh! the crimes with which, at times, I've charged my gentle mind, MATILDA, To keep the vow I made--and now You treat me so unkind, MATILDA!

For when at sea, off Caribbee, I felt my pa.s.sion burn, MATILDA, By pa.s.sion egged, I went and begged The captain to return, MATILDA.

And when, my pet, I couldn't get That captain to agree, MATILDA, Right through a sort of open port I pitched him in the sea, MATILDA!

Remember, too, how all the crew With indignation blind, MATILDA, Distinctly swore they ne'er before Had thought me so unkind, MATILDA.

And how they'd shun me one by one - An unforgiving group, MATILDA - I stopped their howls and sulky scowls By pizening their soup, MATILDA!

So pause to think, before you drink The dregs of Lethe's cup, MATILDA; Remember, do, what I've gone through, Before you give me up, MATILDA.

Recall again the mental pain Of what I've had to do, MATILDA, And be a.s.sured that I've endured It, all along of you, MATILDA!

Ballad: THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS.

A rich advowson, highly prized, For private sale was advertised; And many a parson made a bid; The REVEREND SIMON MAGUS did.

He sought the agent's: "Agent, I Have come prepared at once to buy (If your demand is not too big) The Cure of Otium-c.u.m-Digge."

"Ah!" said the agent, "THERE'S a berth - The snuggest vicarage on earth; No sort of duty (so I hear), And fifteen hundred pounds a year!

"If on the price we should agree, The living soon will vacant be; The good inc.u.mbent's ninety five, And cannot very long survive.

See--here's his photograph--you see, He's in his dotage." "Ah, dear me!

Poor soul!" said SIMON. "His decease Would be a merciful release!"

The agent laughed--the agent blinked - The agent blew his nose and winked - And poked the parson's ribs in play - It was that agent's vulgar way.

The REVEREND SIMON frowned: "I grieve This light demeanour to perceive; It's scarcely comme il faut, I think: Now--pray oblige me--do not wink.

"Don't dig my waistcoat into holes - Your mission is to sell the souls Of human sheep and human kids To that divine who highest bids.

"Do well in this, and on your head Unnumbered honours will be shed."

The agent said, "Well, truth to tell, I HAVE been doing very well."

"You should," said SIMON, "at your age; But now about the parsonage.

How many rooms does it contain?

Show me the photograph again.

"A poor apostle's humble house Must not be too luxurious; No stately halls with oaken floor - It should be decent and no more.

" No billiard-rooms--no stately trees - No croquet-grounds or pineries."

"Ah!" sighed the agent, "very true: This property won't do for you."

"All these about the house you'll find." - "Well," said the parson, "never mind; I'll manage to submit to these Luxurious superfluities.

"A clergyman who does not shirk The various calls of Christian work, Will have no leisure to employ These 'common forms' of worldly joy.

"To preach three times on Sabbath days - To wean the lost from wicked ways - The sick to soothe--the sane to wed - The poor to feed with meat and bread;

"These are the various wholesome ways In which I'll spend my nights and days: My zeal will have no time to cool At croquet, archery, or pool."

The agent said, "From what I hear, This living will not suit, I fear - There are no poor, no sick at all; For services there is no call."

The reverend gent looked grave, "Dear me!

Then there is NO 'society'? - I mean, of course, no sinners there Whose souls will be my special care?"

The cunning agent shook his head, "No, none--except"--(the agent said) - "The DUKE OF A., the EARL OF B., The MARQUIS C., and VISCOUNT D.

"But you will not be quite alone, For though they've chaplains of their own, Of course this n.o.ble well-bred clan Receive the parish clergyman."

"Oh, silence, sir!" said SIMON M., "Dukes--Earls! What should I care for them?

These worldly ranks I scorn and flout!"

"Of course," the agent said, "no doubt!"

"Yet I might show these men of birth The hollowness of rank on earth."

The agent answered, "Very true - But I should not, if I were you."

"Who sells this rich advowson, pray?"

The agent winked--it was his way - "His name is HART; 'twixt me and you, He is, I'm grieved to say, a Jew!"

"A Jew?" said SIMON, "happy find!

I purchase this advowson, mind.

My life shall be devoted to Converting that unhappy Jew!"

Ballad: MY DREAM.