A wooden leg! what, a sort of peg, For your common Jockeys and Jennies! No, no, her mother might worry and plague-- Weep, go down on her knees, and beg, But nothing would move Miss Kilmansegg! She could--she would have a Golden Leg, If it cost ten thousand guineas! Wood indeed, in Forest or Park, With its sylvan honours and feudal bark, Is an aristocratic article: But split and sawn, and hack’d about town, Serving all needs of pauper or clown, Trod on! stagger’d on! Wood cut down Is vulgar--fibre and particle. And Cork!--when the noble Cork Tree shades A lovely group of Castilian maids, ’Tis a thing for a song or sonnet!-- But cork, as it stops the bottle of gin, Or bungs the beer--the _small_ beer--in, It pierced her heart like a corking-pin, To think of standing upon it! A Leg of Gold--solid gold throughout, Nothing else, whether slim or stout, Should ever support her, God willing! She must--she could--she would have her whim, Her father, she turn’d a deaf ear to him-- He might kill her--she didn’t mind killing! He was welcome to cut off her other limb-- He might cut her all off with a shilling! All other promised gifts were in vain, Golden Girdle, or Golden Chain, She writhed with impatience more than pain, And utter’d “pshaws!” and “pishes!” But a Leg of Gold as she lay in bed, It danced before her--it ran in her head! It jump’d with her dearest wishes! “Gold--gold--gold! Oh, let it be gold!” Asleep or awake that tale she told, And when she grew delirious; Till her parents resolved to grant her wish, If they melted down plate, and goblet, and dish, The case was getting so serious. So a Leg was made in a comely mould, Of Gold, fine virgin glittering gold, As solid as man could made it-- Solid in foot, and calf, and shank, A prodigious sum of money it sank; In fact ’twas a Branch of the family Bank, And no easy matter to break it. All sterling metal--not half-and-half, The Goldsmith’s mark was stamp’d on the calf-- ’Twas pure as from Mexican barter! And to make it more costly, just over the knee, Where another ligature used to be, Was a circle of jewels, worth shillings to see, A new-fangled Badge of the Garter! ’Twas a splendid, brilliant, beautiful Leg, Fit for the Court of Scander-Beg, That Precious Leg of Miss Kilmansegg! For, thanks to parental bounty, Secure from Mortification’s touch, She stood on a Member that cost as much As a Member for all the County! HER FAME.