Oh! fie! Mister Nokes,--for shame, Mister Nokes! To be poking your fun at us plain-dealing folks-- Sir, this isn't a time to be cracking your jokes, And such jesting, your malice but scurvily cloaks; Such a trumpery tale every one of us smokes, And we know very well your whole story's a hoax! "Oh! what shall we do? oh! where will it end? Can nobody go? Can nobody send To Calais--or Bergen-op-zoom--or Ostend? Can't you go there yourself? Can't you write to a friend, For news upon which we may safely depend?" Huzzah! huzzah! one and eight-pence to pay For a letter from Hamborough, just come to say They descended at Weilburg about break of day; And they've lent them the palace there, during their stay, And the town is becoming uncommonly gay, And they're feasting the party, and soaking their clay With Johannisberg, Rudesheim, Moselle, and Tokay; And the landgraves, and margraves, and counts beg and prey That they won't think as yet, about going away; Notwithstanding, they don't mean to make much delay, But pack up the balloon in a waggon or dray, And pop themselves into a German "_po-shay_," And get on to Paris by Lisle and Tournay; Where they boldly declare, any wager they'll lay, If the gas people there do not ask them to pay Such a sum as must force them at once to say "Nay," They'll inflate the balloon in the Champs Elysées, And be back again here, the beginning of May. Dear me! what a treat for a juvenile _féte_! What thousands will flock their arrival to greet! There'll be hardly a soul to be seen in the street, For at Vauxhall the whole population will meet, And you'll scarcely get standing-room, much less a seat, For this all preceding attraction must beat:-- Since, there they'll unfold, what we want to be told, How they cough'd, how they sneez'd, how they shiver'd with cold, How they tippled the "cordial," as racy and old As Hodges, or Deady, or Smith ever sold, And how they all then felt remarkably bold; How they thought the boil'd beef worth its own weight in gold; And how Mister Green was beginning to scold Because Mister Hollond would try to lay hold Of the moon, and had very near overboard roll'd. And there they'll be seen--they'll be all to be seen! The great-coats, the coffee-pot, mugs, and tureen! With the tight-rope, and fire-works, and dancing between, If the weather should only prove fair and serene. And there, on a beautiful transparent screen, In the middle you'll see a large picture of Green, With Holland on one side, who hired the machine, And Monk Mason on t'other, describing the scene; And Fame on one leg in the air, like a queen, With three wreaths and a trumpet, will over them lean; While Envy, in serpents and black bombazine, Looks on from below with an air of chagrin.