I sometimes think I’ll take to drink, And hector when I’m strong of it; For I am small, And she is tall, And that’s the short and long of it! O, if the bell Would ring her knell, I’d make a gay ding-dong of it; For I am small, And she is tall, And that’s the short and long of it! [Illustration: The Buoy at the Nore.] [Illustration: Son and Hair.] THE BOY AT THE NORE. “Alone I did it!--Boy!”--CORIOLANUS. I say, little Boy at the Nore, Do you come from the small Isle of Man? Why, your history a mystery must be,-- Come tell us as much as you can, Little Boy at the Nore! You live it seems wholly on water, Which your Gambier calls living in clover;-- But how comes it, if that is the case, You’re eternally half seas over,-- Little Boy at the Nore? While you ride--while you dance--while you float-- Never mind your imperfect orthography;-- But give us as well as you can, Your watery auto-biography, Little Boy at the Nore! LITTLE BOY AT THE NORE LOQUITOR. I’m the tight little Boy at the Nore, In a sort of sea negus I dwells; Half and half ’twixt saltwater and Port, I’m reckon’d the first of the swells-- I’m the Boy at the Nore! I lives with my toes to the flounders, And watches through long days and nights; Yet, cruelly eager, men look-- To catch the first glimpse of my lights-- I’m the Boy at the Nore. I never gets cold in the head, So my life on salt water is sweet,-- I think I owes much of my health To being well used to wet feet-- As the Boy at the Nore. There’s one thing, I’m never in debt: Nay!--I liquidates more than I _oughtor_;[3] So the man to beat Cits as goes by, In keeping the head above water, Is the Boy at the Nore. I’ve seen a good deal of distress, Lots of Breakers in Ocean’s Gazette; They should do as I do--rise o’er all; Aye, a good floating capital get, Like the Boy at the Nore! I’m a’ter the sailor’s own heart, And cheers him, in deep water rolling; And the friend of all friends to Jack Junk, Ben Backstay, Tom Pipes, and Tom Bowling, Is the Boy at the Nore! Could I e’er but grow up, I’d be off For a week to make love with my wheedles; If the tight little boy at the Nore Could but catch a nice girl at the Needles, We’d have _two_ at the Nore! They thinks little of sizes on water, On big waves the tiny one skulks,-- While the river has Men of War on it-- Yes--the Thames is oppressed with Great Hulks, And the Boy’s at the Nore!