The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11): Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original IllustrationsHood, Thomas
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The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11): Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations
Hood, Thomas
English poetry -- 19th century; English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, English
Pure water it plays a good part in
The swabbing the decks and all that--
And it finds its own level for sartin--
For it sartinly drinks very flat:--
For my part a drop of the creature
I never could think was a fault,
For if Tars should swig water by nature
The sea would have never been salt!--
Then off with it into a jorum,
And make it strong, sharpish, or sweet,
For if I’ve any sense of decorum
It never was meant to be neat!--
One day when I was but half sober,--
Half measures I always disdain--
I walk’d into a shop that sold Soda,
And ax’d for some Water Champagne;--
Well, the lubber he drew and he drew, boys,
Till I’d shipped my six bottles or more,
And blow off my last limb but it’s true, boys,
Why, I warn’t half so drunk as afore!--
Then off with it into a jorum,
And make it strong, sharpish, or sweet,
For if I’ve any sense of decorum
It never was meant to be neat.
[Illustration: A BOTTLE JACK.]
[Illustration]
THE BLACK AND WHITE QUESTION.
“The game is made, gentlemen, choose your colour.”
Amongst the many important topics which at present excite a popular
interest, must be reckoned the great question whether the West Indian
apprentices ought or ought not to be considered ought of their time?
A subject presenting such very strong lights and shadows, necessarily
produces a powerful and Rembrandt-like effect on the public mind;
nevertheless, it is only lately and accidentally, that I have been
induced to look critically into the colouring and handling of the
picture. It is not my wont to walk wilfully on Debatable Ground; but in
the present instance, I was seduced involuntarily into the dangerous
confines of “all we love and all we hate,” the borderland, where party
contends with party.
A few days ago, I was giving an order to a tradesman in the
Strand--_not far from Warren’s_--when, to the utter surprise and
disconcertment of the master of the shop, a poor African stepped in
from the street, and, with an obsequious bow, made an offer of his
sable services for a term of years.
[Illustration: “MASSA, YOU WANT A ’PRENTICE?”]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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