Say, how have you been? Let me look in your face; Have you won, have you lost, in the strenuous race? Have you knocked the persimmons and taken the cake? No? Here’s a small wallet--we’ll share it-- Let’s shake! You may bank on my heart,--it is truer than gold; Hot, hotter it grows as the world waxes cold; Through flood and through flame I would go for your sake, That’s so, Bill, you grizzly old humbug, Let’s shake! You’re married, I dare say, or leastwise, in love? Speak out, for you know we are like hand and glove; I used to think you and Belle Esmond would wed;-- Yes, yes, as I wrote you, the baby is dead;-- I feared for awhile that my wife’s heart must break; Your hand, dear old comrade--don’t mind me,-- Let’s shake! God bless you! I’m awfully glad you are here, You must not make fun of this womanish tear; He was only a baby, scarce two Aprils old, But, William, I tell you they do get a hold Of the heartstrings, these babies, and, since ours went, Why, somehow or other, we’re not quite content With this planet;--but when all our miseries here Are over, I hope we may strike a new sphere Up yonder, where hearts never hunger nor ache;-- You’ll get there, I reckon, if I do? Let’s shake! A WELCOME TO BOZ. Impromptu. In immortal Weller’s name, By Micawber’s deathless fame, By the flogging wreaked on Squeers, By Job Trotter’s fluent tears, By the beadle Bumble’s fate At the hands of vixen mate, By the famous Pickwick Club, By the dream of Gabriel Grubb, In the name of Snodgrass’ muse, Tupman’s amorous interviews, Winkle’s ludicrous mishaps, And the fat boy’s countless naps, By Ben Allen and Bob Sawyer, By Miss Sally Brass, the lawyer, In the name of Newman Noggs, River Thames and London fogs, Richard Swiveller’s excess, Feasting with the Marchioness, By Jack Bunsby’s oracles, By the chime of Christmas bells, By the cricket on the hearth, Scrooge’s frown and Crotchit’s mirth, By spread tables and good cheer, Wayside inns and pots of beer, Hostess plump and jolly host, Coaches for the country post, Chambermaid in love with Boots, Toodles, Traddles, Tapley, Toots, Jarley, Varden, Mister Dick, Susan Nipper, Mistress Chick, Snevellicci, Lilyvick, Mantalini’s predilections To transfer his “dem” affections, Podsnap, Pecksniff, Chuzzlewit, Quilp and Simon Tappertit, Weg and Boffin, Smike and Paul, Nell and Jenny Wren and all,-- Be not Sairy Gamp forgot,-- No, nor Peggotty and Trot,-- By poor Barnaby and Grip, Dora, Flora, Di and Gip, Perrybingle, Pinch and Pip-- Welcome, long-expected guest, Welcome, Dickens, to the West.