DER BAILIFFE JÄGER: AN ENGLISH BALLAD IN THE GERMAN STYLE. Who is it that paces that street o'er and o'er? Why keeps he his eye ever fix'd on that door? What seeketh he there, at an hour like this? Bears he tidings of woe?—bears he tidings of bliss? No tidings of bliss does the stranger convey; But for a bold Captain he hears a fi: fa: And he paces that street, and he eyes that thresh-hóld; For he seeketh to capture that Captain so bold. And where is the Captain he seeketh to seize? At the "COAL HOLE," he taketh his grog, and his ease. God send he may stop there until morning comes! For God shield the Captain to-night from the Bums! But hark! in the distance, a footfall occurs; And clinketty-clink! sounds the jingling of spurs; And then the street echoes with "La-li-e-tee!" Now God shield the Captain! for sure it is he. And he reacheth the door, and he knocketh thereat, With a thundering rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat! And he giveth the bell such a furious ring That the street rings again, with its cling-a-ling-ling! Oh Captain! bold Captain! now hie thee away! For near draws that Bum, with his fearful fi: fa: Hurrah! now he sees him as nearer he steals; And away hies the Captain! with the Bum at his heels. Then, hurrying—scurrying—the Captain doth fly; And following—hollowing—the Bum rusheth by. Away! and away! thro' each square, and each street! Though fleet runs the Captain, the Bum runs as fleet. On! on! my bold Captain, see, help is at hand; For lo! in the distance, appears a cab stand. Quick! he's _in_ one, and off, at a galloping pace; Quick! The Bum's in another cab, giving him chase. Then, "haste thee, my Cabman!" the Captain did say; "The Bailiff behind has for _me_ a fi: fa: 'Tis in Middlesex though! so there's Gold, if you'll hurry; Yes, Gold! if you drive me now safe into Surrey." And, "Haste thee, my Cabman!" the Bailiff did say, "For the Captain before us I've got a fi: fa: 'Tis in Middlesex though! so there's Gold, if you hurry Yes, Gold! if I catch him before he's in Surrey." Then gee up! and gee on! they go tearing along, Now jerking the reins—and now plying the thong; And the horses they bound away over the ground: And the mud flies about, as the wheels fly around. Bump! bump! over the stones—slosh! slosh! over the wood, Whack! whack! goeth each whip—quick! quick! quicker who could? And clattering—spattering—onward they go, "Hark forward! hark forward! for Surrey halloo!" Right and left, flieth past every gaslight, how fast! How fast! right and left, too, each street flieth past! The shops, and the houses, like lightning, are gone, As the horses keep galloping, galloping on. See yonder! see yonder's a small breakfast stall; "Have a care! have a care!" or the Sáloupe must fall: Round the corner, unheeding, the vehicles dash; Crash! down come the coffee and cups with a smash.