Then kindly thus the punish'd youth bespake: "Poor Johnny Raw! what madness could impel So rum a Flat to face so prime a Swell? See'st thou not, boy, the Fancy, heavenly maid, Herself descends to this great Hammerer's aid, And, singling him from all her flash adorers, Shines in his hits, and thunders in his floorers? Then, yield thee, youth,--nor such a spooney be, To think mere man can mill a Deity!" Thus spoke the chief--and now, the scrimmage o'er, His faithful pals the done-up Dares bore Back to his home, with tottering gams, sunk heart, And muns and noddle pink'd in every part. While from his gob the guggling claret gush'd [12] And lots of grinders, from their sockets crush'd [13] Forth with the crimson tide in rattling fragments rush'd! [1: hands; head] [2: fellows, usually young fellows] [3: pugilism] [4: men] [5: stomachs] [6: ears and eyes] [7: [Notes]] [8: friend; frolic] [9: heavily] [10: fighting] [11: dealing blows] [12: blood] [13: teeth] YA-HIP, MY HEARTIES! [1819] [From MOORE'S _Tom Crib's Memorial to Congress_:--"Sung by Jack Holmes, the Coachman, at a late Masquerade in St Giles's, in the character of Lord C--st--e--on ... This song which was written for him by Mr. Gregson, etc."]. I I first was hired to _peg a Hack_ [1] They call "The Erin" sometime back, Where soon I learned to _patter flash_, [2] To curb the tits, and tip the lash-- [3] Which pleased _the Master of_ The Crown So much, he had me up to town, And gave me _lots_ of _quids_ a year, [4] To _tool_ "The Constitutions" here. [5] So, ya-hip, hearties, here am I That drive the Constitution Fly. II Some wonder how the Fly holds out, So rotten 'tis, within, without; So loaded too, through thick and thin, And with such _heavy_ creturs IN. But, Lord, 't will last our time--or if The wheels should, now and then, get stiff, Oil of Palm's the thing that, flowing, [6] Sets the naves and felloes going. So ya-hip, _Hearties_! etc. III Some wonder, too, the _tits_ that pull This _rum concern_ along, so full, Should never _back_ or _bolt_, or kick The load and driver to Old Nick. But, never fear, the breed, though British, Is now no longer _game_ or skittish; Except sometimes about their corn, Tamer _Houghnhums_ ne'er were born. So ya-hip, _Hearties_, etc. IV And then so sociably we ride!-- While some have places, snug, inside, Some hoping to be there anon. Through many a dirty road _hang on_. And when we reach a filthy spot (Plenty of which there are, God wot), You'd laugh to see with what an air We _take_ the spatter--each his share. So ya-hip, _Hearties_! etc. [1: drive a hackney-coach] [2: talk slang] [3: horses; whip] [4: money] [5: drive] [6: money] SONNETS FOR THE FANCY: AFTER THE MANNER OF PETRARCH [Notes] [_c._ 1824] [From _Boxiana_, iii. 621. 622]. _Education._