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Tom Brown at Oxford
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Ring a pig, or mend a kettle, oh;
Come, what d'ye lack?
Speak it out, my pretty maid.
"I'll set your scissors, while
My granny tells you plainly!
Who stole your barley meal,
Your butter or your heart;
Tell if your husband will
Be handsome or ungainly,
Ride in a coach and four, or
Rough it in a cart."
"Enter Silly Sally; that's I, for the present you see," said Drysdale; and he began —
"Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
All in a pucker be I;
I'm growing uneasy about Billy Martin,
For love is a casualty desper't unsartin.
Law! yonder's the gipsy as tells folk's fortin;
I'm half in the mind for to try."
"Then you must be the old gipsy woman, Mother Patrico; here's your part Brown."
"But what's the tune?" said Tom.
"Oh, you can't miss it; go ahead;" and so Tom, who was dropping into the humour of the thing, droned out from the MS. handed to him —
"Chairs to mend,
Old chairs to mend,
Rush bottom'd cane bottom'd,
Chairs to mend.
Maid, approach,
If thou wouldst know
What the stars
May deign to show."
"Now, tinker," said Drysdale, nodding at Blake, who rattled on, —
"Chance feeds us, chance leads us;
Round the land in jollity;
Rag-dealing, nag-stealing,
Everywhere we roam;
Brass mending, ass vending,
Happier than the quality;
Swipes soaking, pipes smoking,
Ev'ry barn a home;
Tink, tink, a tink a tink,
Our life is full of fun, boys;
Clink tink, a tink a tink,
Our busy hammers ring;
Clink, tink, a tink a tink,
Our job will soon be done boys;
Then tune we merrily
The bladder and the string."
DRYSDALE, as Silly Sally.
"Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
There's such a look in her eye.
Oh, lawk! I declare I be all of a tremble;
My mind it misgives me about Sukey Wimble,
A splatter faced wench neither civil nor nimble
She'll bring Billy to beggary."
TOM, as Mother Patrico.
"Show your hand;
Come show your hand!
Would you know
What fate has planned?
Heaven forefend,
Ay, heav'n forefend!
What may these
Cross lines portend?"
BLAKE, as the Tinker.
"Owl, pheasant, all's pleasant,
Nothing comes amiss to us;
Hare, rabbit, snare, nab it;
Cock, or hen, or kite;
Tom cat, with strong fat,
A dainty supper is to us;
Hedge-hog and sedge-frog
To stew is our delight;
Bow, wow, with angry bark
My lady's dog assails us;
We sack him up, and clap
A stopper on his din.
Now pop him in the pot;
His store of meat avails us;
Wife cook him nice and hot,
Come, what d'ye lack?
Speak it out, my pretty maid.
"I'll set your scissors, while
My granny tells you plainly!
Who stole your barley meal,
Your butter or your heart;
Tell if your husband will
Be handsome or ungainly,
Ride in a coach and four, or
Rough it in a cart."
"Enter Silly Sally; that's I, for the present you see," said Drysdale; and he began —
"Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
All in a pucker be I;
I'm growing uneasy about Billy Martin,
For love is a casualty desper't unsartin.
Law! yonder's the gipsy as tells folk's fortin;
I'm half in the mind for to try."
"Then you must be the old gipsy woman, Mother Patrico; here's your part Brown."
"But what's the tune?" said Tom.
"Oh, you can't miss it; go ahead;" and so Tom, who was dropping into the humour of the thing, droned out from the MS. handed to him —
"Chairs to mend,
Old chairs to mend,
Rush bottom'd cane bottom'd,
Chairs to mend.
Maid, approach,
If thou wouldst know
What the stars
May deign to show."
"Now, tinker," said Drysdale, nodding at Blake, who rattled on, —
"Chance feeds us, chance leads us;
Round the land in jollity;
Rag-dealing, nag-stealing,
Everywhere we roam;
Brass mending, ass vending,
Happier than the quality;
Swipes soaking, pipes smoking,
Ev'ry barn a home;
Tink, tink, a tink a tink,
Our life is full of fun, boys;
Clink tink, a tink a tink,
Our busy hammers ring;
Clink, tink, a tink a tink,
Our job will soon be done boys;
Then tune we merrily
The bladder and the string."
DRYSDALE, as Silly Sally.
"Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Oh, dear! what can the matter be?
There's such a look in her eye.
Oh, lawk! I declare I be all of a tremble;
My mind it misgives me about Sukey Wimble,
A splatter faced wench neither civil nor nimble
She'll bring Billy to beggary."
TOM, as Mother Patrico.
"Show your hand;
Come show your hand!
Would you know
What fate has planned?
Heaven forefend,
Ay, heav'n forefend!
What may these
Cross lines portend?"
BLAKE, as the Tinker.
"Owl, pheasant, all's pleasant,
Nothing comes amiss to us;
Hare, rabbit, snare, nab it;
Cock, or hen, or kite;
Tom cat, with strong fat,
A dainty supper is to us;
Hedge-hog and sedge-frog
To stew is our delight;
Bow, wow, with angry bark
My lady's dog assails us;
We sack him up, and clap
A stopper on his din.
Now pop him in the pot;
His store of meat avails us;
Wife cook him nice and hot,
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Последний отзыв
Классная книга. Очень многое объясняет, что скрытое реально происходит в человеке