Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV

Parodies

CHANGED FOR THE WORST.

      I’m sitting at my window, Jack,
        Where we’ve sat side by side,
      Many a bright ev’ning long ago,
        In life’s thoughtless, gay spring tide,
      When we thought more of pleasure, Jack,
        Than three per cents or four:
      Ah, those were pleasant days, my boy――
        But days we’ll see no more!

      This place is greatly changed, Jack,
        The fields are all “clean gone,”
      The shady lanes through which we strolled
        Have all been built upon:
      My house is flanked by a “Dun Cow,”
        A “Green Man,” and a “Duke,”
      A chandler’s shop is opposite――
        The owner’s name is Snook!

      “Solitude” is now “Victoria-street,”
        “The Hermitage” “Albert-square,”
      “The Fairies’ Haunt” a Music Hall,
        In which I’ve got a share.
       A cab-stand’s near “Our Lady’s Well,”
        A workhouse in “Love Lane,”
      A church and schools in “Lovers’ Walk”
        From near which starts the train!

      We’re treated to all “London cries”
        From morn till dewy eve,
      And strong-lunged preachers in the streets
        Beseech us to “believe;”
      We’re taxed for water, streets, and gas,
        And “Bobbies” by the score――
      Ah, everything is changed, Jack,
        From the happy days of yore!

      But, worse than all, the weather, Jack,
        Has quite “gone to the dogs”――
      In May we’d sleet, in June we’ve frost,
        In July we’ll have fogs;
      I cannot leave the house, Jack,
        But I shiver with the cold――
      Ah, the weather’s not the same, boy,
        As in the days of old!

      And _I_ am greatly changed, Jack,
        I do not walk so straight
      As when each day beheld us
        At pic-nic, race, or _fête_;
      My hair has grown quite thin, Jack,
        My lungs are far from right,
      I’ve rheumatism, lumbago, gout,
        I cannot sleep at night.

      I think if I’d a wife, Jack,
        She’d make me soon all right,
      By watching o’er my comfort, boy,
        Both morn, and eve, and night:
      I’ll take one,――if I find a girl
        Of beauty, youth, and wealth,
      Who wants a husband sound at heart,
        Though not quite sound in health!

  _The Hornet._ June 21, 1871.

                     ――――

             THE CHURCHYARD STILE.
                (An Imitation).

      I left thee young and gay, Mary,
        When last the thorn was white;
      I went upon my way, Mary,
        And all the world seemed bright;
      For though my love had ne’er been told,
        Yet, yet I saw thy form
      Beside me in the midnight watch;
        Above me, in the storm.
      And many a blissful dream I had,
        That brought thy gentle smile,
      Just as it came when last we leaned
        Upon the Churchyard Stile.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV

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