The girls (just like them!) all agree To praise J. Jones, Esquire: I ask them what on earth they see About him to admire?

They cry "He is so sleek and slim, It's quite a treat to look at him!"

They vanish in tobacco smoke, Those visionary maids- I feel a sharp and sudden poke Between the shoulder-blades- "Why, Brown, my boy! Your growing stout!"

(I told you he would find me out!)

"My growth is not _your_ business, Sir!"

"No more it is, my boy!

But if it's _yours_, as I infer, Why, Brown, I give you joy!

A man, whose business prospers so, Is just the sort of man to know!

"It's hardly safe, though, talking here- I'd best get out of reach: For such a weight as yours, I fear, Must shortly sink the beach!"- Insult me thus because I'm stout!

I vow I'll go and call him out!

[Picture: For such a weight as yours . . .]

ATALANTA IN CAMDEN-TOWN

Ay, 'twas here, on this spot, In that summer of yore, Atalanta did not Vote my presence a bore, Nor reply to my tenderest talk "She had heard all that nonsense before."

She'd the brooch I had bought And the necklace and sash on, And her heart, as I thought, Was alive to my pa.s.sion; And she'd done up her hair in the style that the Empress had brought into fashion.

I had been to the play With my pearl of a Peri- But, for all I could say, She declared she was weary, That "the place was so crowded and hot, and she couldn't abide that Dundreary."

[Picture: On this spot . . .]

Then I thought "Lucky boy!

'Tis for _you_ that she whimpers!"

And I noted with joy Those sensational simpers: And I said "This is scrumptious!"-a phrase I had learned from the Devonshire shrimpers.

And I vowed "'Twill be said I'm a fortunate fellow, When the breakfast is spread, When the topers are mellow, When the foam of the bride-cake is white, and the fierce orange-blossoms are yellow!"

O that languishing yawn!

O those eloquent eyes!

I was drunk with the dawn Of a splendid surmise- I was stung by a look, I was slain by a tear, by a tempest of sighs.

Then I whispered "I see The sweet secret thou keepest.

And the yearning for _ME_ That thou wistfully weepest!

And the question is 'License or Banns?', though undoubtedly Banns are the cheapest."

"Be my Hero," said I, "And let _me_ be Leander!"

But I lost her reply- Something ending with "gander"- For the omnibus rattled so loud that no mortal could quite understand her.

THE LANG COORTIN'

The ladye she stood at her lattice high, Wi' her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The pa.s.sers in the street,

"There's one that standeth at the door, And tirleth at the pin: Now speak and say, my popinjay, If I sall let him in."

Then up and spake the popinjay That flew abune her head: "Gae let him in that tirls the pin: He cometh thee to wed."

O when he cam' the parlour in, A woeful man was he!

"And dinna ye ken your lover agen, Sae well that loveth thee?"

[Picture: The popinjay]

"And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir, That have been sae lang away?

And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir?

Ye never telled me sae."

Said-"Ladye dear," and the salt, salt tear Cam' rinnin' doon his cheek, "I have sent the tokens of my love This many and many a week.

"O didna ye get the rings, Ladye, The rings o' the gowd sae fine?

I wot that I have sent to thee Four score, four score and nine."

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye.

"Wow, they were flimsie things!"

Said-"that chain o' gowd, my doggie to howd, It is made o' thae self-same rings."

"And didna ye get the locks, the locks, The locks o' my ain black hair, Whilk I sent by post, whilk I sent by box, Whilk I sent by the carrier?"

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye; "And I prithee send nae mair!"

Said-"that cushion sae red, for my doggie's head, It is stuffed wi' thae locks o' hair."

"And didna ye get the letter, Ladye, Tied wi' a silken string, Whilk I sent to thee frae the far countrie, A message of love to bring?"

"It cam' to me frae the far countrie Wi' its silken string and a'; But it wasna prepaid," said that high-born maid, "Sae I gar'd them tak' it awa'."

"O ever alack that ye sent it back, It was written sae clerkly and well!

Now the message it brought, and the boon that it sought, I must even say it mysel'."

Then up and spake the popinjay, Sae wisely counselled he.

"Now say it in the proper way: Gae doon upon thy knee!"

The lover he turned baith red and pale, Went doon upon his knee: "O Ladye, hear the waesome tale That must be told to thee!

"For five lang years, and five lang years, I coorted thee by looks; By nods and winks, by smiles and tears, As I had read in books.

"For ten lang years, O weary hours!

I coorted thee by signs; By sending game, by sending flowers, By sending Valentines.

"For five lang years, and five lang years, I have dwelt in the far countrie, Till that thy mind should be inclined Mair tenderly to me.