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Atalanta in Camden-Town
Ay, ’twas here, on this spot,

In that summer of yore,

Atalanta did not

Vote my presence a bore,

Nor reply to my tenderest talk “She had

heard all that nonsense before.”

She’d the brooch I had bought

And the necklace and sash on,

And her heart, as I thought,

Was alive to my passion;

And she’d done up her hair in the style that

the Empress had brought into fashion.

I had been to the play

With my pearl of a Peri —

But, for all I could say,

She declared she was weary,

That “the place was so crowded and hot, and

she couldn’t abide that Dundreary.”

Then I thought “Lucky boy!

’Tis for YOU that she whimpers!”

And I noted with joy

Those sensational simpers:

And I said “This is scrumptious!” — a

phrase I had learned from the Devonshire shrimpers.

And I vowed “’Twill be said

I’m a fortunate fellow,

When the breakfast is spread,

When the topers are mellow,

When the foam of the bride-cake is white,

and the fierce orange-blossoms are yellow!”

O that languishing yawn!

O those eloquent eyes!

I was drunk with the dawn

Of a splendid surmise —

I was stung by a look, I was slain by a tear,

by a tempest of sighs.

Then I whispered “I see

The sweet secret thou keepest.

And the yearning for ME

That thou wistfully weepest!

And the question is ‘License or Banns?’,

though undoubtedly Banns are the cheapest.”

“Be my Hero,” said I,

“And let ME be Leander!”

But I lost her reply —

Something ending with “gander” —

For the omnibus rattled so loud that no

mortal could quite understand her.

THE LANG COORTIN’

The ladye she stood at her lattice high,

Wi’ her doggie at her feet;

Thorough the lattice she can spy

The passers in the street,

“There’s one that standeth at the door,

And tirleth at the pin:

Now speak and say, my popinjay,

If I sall let him in.”

Then up and spake the popinjay

That flew abune her head:

“Gae let him in that tirls the pin:

He cometh thee to wed.”

O when he cam’ the parlour in,

A woeful man was he!

“And dinna ye ken your lover agen,

Sae well that loveth thee?”

“And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir,

That have been sae lang away?

And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir?

Ye never telled me sae.”

Said — “Ladye dear,” and the salt, salt tear

Cam’ rinnin’ doon his cheek,

“I have sent the tokens of my love

This many and many a week.

“O didna ye get the rings, Ladye,

The rings o’ the gowd sae fine?

I wot that I have sent to thee

Four score, four score and nine.”

“They cam’ to me,” said that fair ladye.

“Wow, they were flimsie things!”

Said — “that chain o’ gowd, my doggie to howd,

It is made o’ thae self-same rings.”

“And didna ye get the locks, the locks,

The locks o’ my ain black hair,

Whilk I sent by post, whilk I sent by box,

Whilk I sent by the carrier?”

“They cam’ to me,” said that fair ladye;

“And I prithee send nae mair!”

Said — “that cushion sae red, for my doggie’s head,

It is stuffed wi’ thae locks o’ hair.”

“And didna ye get the letter, Ladye,

Tied wi’ a silken string,

Whilk I sent to thee frae the far countrie,

A message of love to bring?”

“It cam’ to me frae the far countrie

Wi’ its silken string and a’;

But it wasna prepaid,” said that high-born maid,
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