Once, as through the streets I wandered, and o’er many a fancy pondered, Many a fancy quaint and curious, which had filled my mind of yore,―― Suddenly my footsteps stumbled, and against a man I tumbled, Who, beneath a sailor’s jacket, something large and heavy bore. “Beg your pardon, sir!” I muttered, as I rose up, hurt and sore; But the sailor only swore. Vexed at this, my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “now really, truly, your forgiveness I implore! But, in fact, my sense was napping――――” then the sailor answered, rapping Out his dreadful oaths and awful imprecations by the score,―― Answered he, “Come, hold your jaw! “May my timbers now be shivered――” oh, at this my poor heart quivered,―― “If you don’t beat any parson that I ever met before! You’ve not hurt me; stow your prosing”――then his huge peacoat unclosing, Straight he showed the heavy parcel, which beneath his arm he bore,―― Showed a cage which held a parrot, such as Crusoe had of yore, Which at once drew corks and swore. Much I marvelled at this parrot, green as grass and red as carrot, Which, with fluency and ease, was uttering sentences a score; And it pleased me so immensely, and I liked it so intensely, That I bid for it at once; and when I showed of gold my store, Instantly the sailor sold it; mine it was, and his no more; Mine it was for evermore. Prouder was I of this bargain, e’en than patriotic Dargan, When his Sovereign, Queen Victoria, crossed the threshold of his door;―― Surely I had gone demented――surely I had sore repented, Had I known the dreadful misery which for me Fate had in store,―― Known the fearful, awful misery which for me Fate had in store, Then, and now, and evermore! Scarcely to my friends I’d shown it, when (my mother’s dreadful groan!――it Haunts me even now!) the parrot from his perch began to pour Forth the most tremendous speeches, such as Mr. Ainsworth teaches―― Us were uttered by highway men and rapparees of yore!―― By the wicked, furious, tearing, riding rapparees of yore; But which now are heard no more. And my father, straight uprising, spake his mind――It was surprising, That this favourite son, who’d never, never so transgressed before, Should have brought a horrid, screaming――nay, e’en worse than that――blaspheming Bird within that pure home circle――bird well learned in wicked lore! While he spake, the parrot, doubtless thinking it a horrid bore, Cried out “Cuckoo!” barked, and swore.