For thee a bloater from Yarmouth town (Fresh, O fresh, is a fish of the sea!); For me some beef, and, to wash it down, A pint of porter (ah me! ah me!). Sherbet and zoedone for thee (Teetotal drinks have taking names!); A cup of claret and pink for me (O! men are stronger than dames!) From _Ballades of a Country Bookworm_, by Thomas Hutchinson. London, Stanesby & Co. 1888. ―――― QUITE THE CHEESE. _By a Wilde Æsthete._ There once was a maiden who loved a cheese _Sing, hey! potatoes and paint!_ She could eat a pound and a half with ease! _O the odorous air was faint!_ What was the cheese that she loved the best? _Sing, hey! red pepper and rags!_ You will find it out if you read the rest; _Oh, the horror of frowning crags!_ Came lovers to woo her from ev’ry land―― _Sing, hey! fried bacon and files!_ They asked for her heart, but they meant her hand, _O the joy of the Happy Isles._ A haughty old Don from Oporto came; _Sing, hey! new carrots and nails!_ The Duke GORGONZOLA his famous name _O the lusciously-scented gales!_ LORD STILTON belonged to a mighty line! _Sing, hey! salt herrings and stones!_ He was “Blue” as china――his taste divine! _O the sweetness of dulcet tones._ Came stout DOUBLE GLO’STER――a man and wife _Sing, hey! post pillars and pies!_ And the son was SINGLE, and fair as fate; _O the purple of sunset skies!_ DE CAMEMBERT came from his sunny France _Sing, hey! pork cutlets and pearls!_ He would talk sweet nothings, and sing and dance _O the sighs of the soft sweet girls._ Came GRUYERE so pale! a most hole-y-man! _Sing, hey! red sandstone and rice!_ But the world saw through him as worldlings can _O the breezes from Isles of Spice._ But the maiden fair loved no cheese but one _Sing, hey! acrostics and ale!_ Save for single Glo’ster she love had none! _O the roses on fair cheeks pale!_ He was fair and single――and so was she! _Sing hey! tomatoes and tar!_ And so _now_ you know which it is to be! _O the aid of a lucky star!_ They toasted the couple the livelong night _Sing hey! cast-iron and carp!_ And engaged a poet this song to write. _O the breathing Æolian harp!_ So he wrote this ballad at vast expense! _Sing, hey! pump-handles and peas!_ And, though _you_ may think it devoid of sense, O _he_ fancies it QUITE THE CHEESE! H. C. WARING. [Illustration] ARTHUR W. E. O’SHAUGHNESSY. Was born in 1844, and at the age of twenty obtained a position in the Natural History Department of the British Museum. In 1873 he married Miss Eleanor Marston, who assisted her husband in some of his early works, especially in a volume entitled “Toyland,” published in 1875.