The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities — David Hume — John Shaqi
The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities
David Hume · en
Judge Blackstone made a learned book
On subjects, and on kings,
And many reasons sage he gave
For many foolish things.
And many a wily way he found
For lawyers to get fat in,
And common sense, and English sound,
He smothered in dog-latin.
And simple ways made strange to see,
As clients, to their loss tell;
And many things that law may be,
Altho' they be not Gos-pel.
But since (see Job) we are but worms,
Our destiny we fill,
No doubt, in being gobbled up
By some long lawyer's bill.
28 Hare Hunting ends. "_Nemo est hæres viventis._"—BLACKSTONE.
[Illustration:
FEBRUARY.—Frost Fair.
]
FROST FAIR:
A LAMENT. BY TOM TUG.
Vell, blow me tight, but here's a go! I can't hardly believe my eyes,
It's a rig'lar Bartlemy Fair afloat, vith its stalls, and peep-shows,
and t'ys,
And vonderful lambs vithout niver a head, and vonderfuller pigs with
three;
And ships a svimmin' about in the air, instead of on the water, vere
they orts to be;
And chaps a selling peppermint to keep the cold out, vich is jest the
vorst thing under the sun;
And people a having their names printed on cards, vot can't read 'em
ven they're done;
And lads and lasses a dancing and singing, and up to all manner o'
queer raps;
And fat sheep a roasting whole, but not a bit for us poor amphibilous
chaps;
And fellers a playing at nine pins on the ice, vot can't stand on their
own two;
And ticket porters a stopping to see Punch, instead of going on their
arrans, as they orts to do;
And firemen a cutting about here and there, as big and grand as any
lord or squire.
Vith their red coats and badges—I s'pose they're afeard o' someb'dy's
setting the Thames afire—
And booths up and down of all sorts and sizes, till it looks like a
Boothia Felix quite,
Vith the moniment for the North Pole—that is, ven the fog and smoke'll
let you git a sight—
And the turnpike men off the warious bridges, vith nothink in the vorld
to do all day
But go to sleep on their rusty turnstiles, for in course people ain't
sitch spoons as to pay
To pass thro' their rewolving plate-warmers, ven they can go over the
vater free;
Vich I don't care so much for the bridge chaps, 'cause they does a good
deal o' harm to we.