Tim Turpin

795

TIM TURPIN

TIM TURPIN he was gravel blind,
And ne'er had seen the skies:
For Nature, when his head was made,
Forgot to dot his eyes.

So, like a Christmas pedagogue,

Poor Tim was forced to do,Look out for pupils, for he had A vacancy for two.

There's some have specs to help their sight
Of objects dim and small;

But Tim had specks within his eyes,

And could not see at all.

Now Tim he wooed a servant maid,
And took her to his arms;
For he, like Pyramus, had cast
A wall-eye on her charms.

By day she led him up and down
Where'er he wished to jog,

A happy wife, although she led
The life of any dog.

But just when Tim had lived a month

In honey with his wife,

A surgeon oped his Milton eyes,
Like oysters, with a knife.

But when his eyes were opened thus,
He wished them dark again;
For when he looked upon his wife,
He saw her very plain.

Her face was bad, her figure worse,
He couldn't bear to eat;

For she was anything but like

A Grace before his meat.

Now Tim he was a feeling man:
For when his sight was thick,
It made him feel for everything,-
But that was with a stick.

So, with a cudgel in his hand,—
It was not light or slim,—

He knocked at his wife's head until
It opened unto him.

And when the corpse was stiff and cold,
He took his slaughtered spouse,

And laid her in a heap with all
The ashes of her house.

But, like a wicked murderer,
He lived in constant fear
From day to day, and so he cut
His throat from ear to ear.

The neighbors fetched a doctor in: Said he, "This wound I dread Can hardly be sewed up,-his life Is hanging on a thread."

But when another week was gone,
He gave him stronger hope,-
Instead of hanging on a thread,
Of hanging on a rope.

Ah! when he hid his bloody work,
In ashes round about,

How little he supposed the truth
Would soon be sifted out!

But when the parish dustman came,
His rubbish to withdraw,

He found more dust within the heap
Than he contracted for!

Faithless Nelly Gray

A dozen men to try the fact,

Were sworn that very day;

But though they all were jurors, yet
No conjurors were they.

Said Tim unto those jurymen,
"You need not waste your breath,
For I confess myself, at once,
The author of her death.

"And O, when I reflect upon
The blood that I have spilt,
Just like a button is my soul,
Inscribed with double guilt!"

Then turning round his head again
He saw before his eyes

A great judge, and a little judge,
The judges of a-size!

The great judge took his judgment-cap,
And put it on his head,

And sentenced Tim by law to hang

Till he was three times dead.

So he was tried, and he was hung
(Fit punishment for such)

On Horsham drop, and none can say
It was a drop too much.

797

Thomas Hood.

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY

BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms:
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

Now, as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot!"

The army surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, "They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs!"

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours
When he'd devoured his pay!

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

"O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat,
Should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave!

"Before you had those timber toes, Your love I did allow,

But then you know, you stand upon Another footing now!"

"O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,

At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches!"

Faithless Nelly Gray

"Why, then," said she, "you've lost the feet

Of legs in war's alarms,

And now you cannot wear your shoes

Upon your feats of arms!"

"Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray;

I know why you refuse:

Though I've, no feet-some other man
Is standing in my shoes!

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But now a long farewell!
For you will be my death-alas!
You will not be my Nell!"

Now, when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got-

And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot!

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did entwine,

And, for his second time in life

Enlisted in the Line!

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,
And as his legs were off,-of course,
He soon was off his legs!

And there he hung till he was dead

As any nail in town,

For though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down!

A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died-

And they buried Ben in four cross-roads,
With a stake in his inside!

799

Thomas Hood.