Richard Harris Barham - The Ingoldsby Legends (1800)

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Never was heard such a terrible curse!
But what gave rise
To no little surprise,
Nobody seemed one penny the worse!

Richard Harris Barham
What was to be done?—'twas perfectly plain
That they could not well hang the man over again;
What was to be done?—The man was dead!
Nought could be done—nought could be said;
So—my Lord Tomnoddy went home to bed!

Richard Harris Barham
A servant's too often a negligent elf;
—If it's business of consequence, do it yourself!

Richard Harris Barham
But wherever they live, or whenever they die
They'll never get rid of young Hamilton Tighe.

Richard Harris Barham
Though I've always considered Sir Christopher Wren,
As an architect, one of the greatest of men;
And, talking of Epitaphs,—much I admire his,
'Circumspice, si Monumentum requiris';
Which an erudite Verger translated to me,
'If you ask for his Monument, Sir-come-spy-see!'

Richard Harris Barham
He cursed him in sleeping, that every night
He should dream of the devil, and wake in a fright.

Richard Harris Barham
Now haste ye, my handmaidens, haste and see
How he sits there and glowers with his head on his knee!

Richard Harris Barham
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair!
Bishop, and abbot, and prior were there.

Richard Harris Barham
I was between A man and a boy, A hobble-de-hoy, A fat, little, punchy concern of sixteen.

Richard Harris Barham
Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.

Richard Harris Barham