Nay, one was so taken aback By seeing such spirit and life in them, That he fairly exclaim'd, "I say, Jack, I'm blowed if I _can_ put a knife in them!"-- "Pooh!" says his pal, "you great dunce! You've pouched the good gentleman's money, So out with your whinger at once, And scrag Jane, while I spiflicate Johnny!" He refused, and harsh language ensued, Which ended at length in a duel, When he that was mildest in mood Gave the truculent rascal his gruel; The Babes quake with hunger and fear, While the ruffian his dead comrade, Jack, buries; Then he cries, "Loves, amuse yourselves here With the hips, and the haws, and the blackberries! "I'll be back in a couple of shakes; So don't, dears, be quivering and quaking: I'm going to get you some cakes, And a nice butter'd roll that's a-baking!" He rode off with a tear in his eye, Which ran down his rough cheek, and wet it, As he said to himself with a sigh, "Pretty souls!--don't they wish they may get it!!" From that moment the Babes ne'er caught sight Of the wretch who thus wrought their undoing, But passed all that day and that night In wandering about and "boo-hoo"-ing. The night proved cold, dreary, and dark, So that, worn out with sighings and sobbings, Next morn they were found stiff and stark, And stone-dead, by two little Cock-Robins. These two little birds it sore grieves To see what so cruel a dodge I call,-- They cover the bodies with leaves, An interment quite ornithological; It might more expensive have been, But I doubt, though I've not been to see 'em, If among those in all Kensal Green You could find a more neat Mausoleum. Now, whatever your rogues may suppose, Conscience always makes restless their pillows, And Justice, though blind, has a nose That sniffs out all conceal'd peccadilloes. The wicked old Uncle, they say, In spite of his riot and revel, Was hippish and qualmish all day, And dreamt all night long of the d--l. He grew gouty, dyspeptic, and sour, And his brow, once so smooth and so placid, Fresh wrinkles acquired every hour, And whatever he swallow'd turn'd acid. The neighbours thought all was not right, Scarcely one with him ventured to parley, And Captain Swing came in the night, And burnt all his beans and his barley. There was hardly a day but some fox Ran away with his geese and his ganders; His wheat had the mildew, his flocks Took the rot, and his horses the glanders; His daughters drank rum in their tea, His son, who had gone for a sailor, Went down in a steamer at sea, And his wife ran away with a tailor!