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Cornell University Library PR 5452.S4L7 The lifeboat, and other poems 3 1924 013 551 464 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013551464 THE LIFEBOAT AND OTHER POEMS. THE LIFEBOAT AND OTHEK POEMS. BY '■ y, .' GEORGE RV SIMS. '^ AUTIIOn OF "THE DAaONET BALLADS," •'BALLADS OF BABYLON" <£c. London : J. P. FULLER, WINE OFFICE COURT, E.C. 1883. T ^6 To WILSON BARRETT, Esq., These Poems, mostly m^elodramatic, are dedicated, with the Author's sincere admiration for one who iias done so much both as Manager and Actor for the Poetry cf Melodrama. January \it, 1883. CONTENTS. THE LIFEBOAT THE MAGIC WAND . A BUNCH OF PRIMROSES NELLIE'S PRAYER . IN THE SIGNAL BOX TICKET-O'-LEAVE . THE STREET TUMBLERS . THE ROAD TO HEAVEN . IN THE HARBOUR . CHRISTMASSING A LA MODE MIDSUMMER DAY . A GREAT COUNTRY LATE FOR DINNER hark! the HERALD ANGELS TO A PAIR OF BOOTS . A traveller's TALE LOUIS NAPOLEON . A DEADLY WEAPON THE STREET GALLERY . AT THE PIT'S MOUTH . PAGE. . I . II . 17 . 24 . 32 - 41 49 59 68 SLUMOPOLIS 81 . 85 87 . 90 SING 92 . 94 . 96 , 99 . . lOI . • 103 . . 106 vin CONTENTS. PAOB. ODE AND PAID TO KAHU . , . . Io8 PARLIAMENTARY ETIQUETTE . . . .Ill THE RESIGNATION OF BISMARCK . ■ . II3 MAY ..... c = o 115 AT OUR DOORS ,...,.. II7 FORGOTTEN . . , . . .. . I18 THE BURIALS BILL ...... I20 k VALENTINE 124 AN AWFUL CHARACTER ..... 126 SWEET JULY ....... 128 THE RIVER DEMON ... . 130 THE POETS ON THE MARRIAGE WITH , A DECEASED WIFE'S SISTER BILL , . 132 THE LOST CORD . o . . . 134 A PLUMBER 136 THE MUFFIN BELL ...... 138 HIS WIFE . 140 COMET B, 1881 . . . . . .142 THE PEELER IN ARMS . . , . , 144 THE BOLD BAD MAN ..... 147 THE ROSEBUDS . . . . . .151 THE REAL REMEDY . . , , .152 THE LIFEBOAT OTHER POEMS. THE LIFEBOAT. |eEN out in the lifeboat often ? Ay, ay, sir, oft enough. When it's rougher than this ? Lor' bless you ! this ain't what we calls rough ! It's when there's a gale a-blowin', and the waves run in and break On the shore with a roar like thunder and the white cliffs seem to shake ; THE LIFEBOAT When the sea is a hell of waters, and the bravest holds his breath As he hears the cry for the lifeboat — his summons maybe to death — That's when we call it rough, sir ; but, if we can get her afloat. There's always enough brave fellows ready to man the boat. You've heard of the Royal Helen, the ship as was wrecked last year ? Yon be the rock she struck on — the boat as went out be here ; The night as she struck was reckoned the worst as ever we had. And this is a coast in winter where the weather be awful bad. The beach here was strewed with wreckage, and to tell you the truth, sir, then Was the only time as ever we'd a bother to get the men. The single chaps was willin', and six on *em volun- teered, But most on us here is married, and the wives that night was skeered. AND OTHER POEMS. Our women ain't chicken-hearted when it comes to savin' lives, But death that night looked certain — and our wives be only wives ; Their lot ain't bright at the best, sir ; but here, when the man lies dead, 'Tain't only a husband missin', it's the children's daily bread ; So our women began to whimper and beg o' the chaps to stay — I only heerd on it after, for that night I was kept away. I was up at my cottage, yonder, where the wife lay nigh het end, She'd been ailin' all the winter, and nothin' 'ud make her mend. The doctor had given her up, sir, and I knelt by her side and prayed. With my eyes as red as a babby*s, that Death's hand might yet be stayed. I heerd the wild wind howlin', and I looked on the wasted form. And thought of the awful shipwreck as had come in the ragin' storm ; B 2 THE LIFEBOAT The wreck of my little homestead — the wreck of my dear old wife, Who'd sailed with me forty years, sir, o'er the troublous waves of life. And I looked at the eyes so sunken, as had been my harbour lights. To tell of the sweet home haven in the wildest, darkest nights. She knew she was sinkin' quickly — she knew as her end was nigh. But she never spoke o' the troubles as I knew on her heart must lie, For we'd had one great big sorrow with Jack, our only son — He'd got into trouble in London, as lots o' the lads ha' done ; Then he'd bolted, his masters told us — he was alius what folk call wild. From the day as I told his mother, her dear face never smiled. We heerd no more about him, we never knew where he went. And his mother pined and sickened for the message he never sent. AND OTHER POEMS. I had my work to think of ; but she had her grief to nurse, So it eat away at her heartstrings, and her health grew worse and worse. And the night as the Royal Helen went down on yonder sands, I sat and watched her dyin', holdin' her wasted hands. She moved in her doze a little, then her eyes were opened wide. And she seemed to be seekin' somethin', as she looked from side to side ; Then half to herself she whispered, "Where's Jack, to say good-bye ? It's hard not to see my darlin', and kiss him afore I die 1 " I was stoopin' to kiss and soothe her, while the tears ran down my cheek, And my lips were shaped to whisper the words I couldn't speak, When the door of the room burst open, and my mates were there outside With the news that the boat was launchin'. "You're wanted !" their leader cried. THE LIFEBOAT " You've never refused to go, John ; you'll put these cowards right. There's a dozen of lives maybe, John, as lie in our hands to-night 1 " 'Twas old Ben Brown, the captain ; he'd laughed at the women's doubt. We'd always been first on the beach, sir, when the boat was goin' out. I didn't move, but I pointed to the white face on the bed— " I can't go, mate," I murmured ; " in an hour she may be dead. I cannot go and leave her to die in the night alone." As I spoke Ben raised his lantern, and the light on my wife was thrown ; And I saw her eyes fixed strangely with a pleading look on me. While a tremblin' finger pointed through the door to the ragin' sea. Then she beckoned me near, and whispered, " Go, and God's will be done ! For every lad on that ship, John, is some poor mother's son." AND OTHER POEMS. 7 Her head was full of the boy, sir — she was thinking, maybe, some day For lack of a hand to help him his life might be cast away. "Go, John, and the Lord watch o'er you! and spare me to see the lightj. And bring you safe," she whispef ed, " out of the storm to-night." Then I turned and kissed her softly, and tried to hide my tears. And my -mates outside, when they saw me, set up three hearty cheers ; But I rubbed my eyes wi' my knuckles, and turned to old Ben and said, " I'll see her again, maybe, lad, when the sea gives up its dead." We launched the boat in the tempest, though death was th.e goal in view, And never a one but doubted if the craft could live it through ; But our boat she stood it bravely, and, wearv and wet and weak, We drew in hail of the vessel we had dared so much to seek. 8 THE LIFEBOAT But just as we come upon her she gave a fearful roll, And went down in the seethin' whirlpool with every livin' soul ! We rowed for the spot, and shouted, for all around was dark — But only the wild wind answered the cries from our plungin' bark. I was strainin' my eyes and watchin', when I thought I heard a cry, And I saw past our bows a somethin' on the crest of a wave dashed by ; I stretched out my hand to seize it. I dragged it aboard, and then I stumbled, and struck my forrud, and fell like a log on Ben. I remember a hum of voices, and then I knowed no more Till I came to my senses here, sir — here, in my home ashore. My forrud was tightly bandaged, and I lay on my little bed— ['d slipped, so they told me arter, and a rullurk had struck my head. AND OTHER POEMS. Then my mates came in and whispered; they'd heard I was comin' round. At first I could scarcely hear 'em, it seemed like a buzzin' sound ; But as soon as my head got clearer, and accustomed to hear 'em speak, I knew as I'd lain like that, sir, for many a long, long week. I guessed what the lads was hidin', for their poor old shipmate's sake. I could see by their puzzled faces they'd got some news to break ; So I lifts my head from the pillow, and I says to old Ben, " Look here! I'm able to bear it now, lad — tell me, and never fear." Not one on 'em ever answered, but presently Ben goes out. And the others slinks away like, and I says, " What's this about ? Why can't they tell me plainly as the poor old wife is dead?" Then I fell again on the pillows, and I hid my achin* head ; 10 THE LIFEBOAT, &c. I lay like that for a minute, till I heard a voice cry "John!" And I thought it must be a vision as my weak eyes gazed upon ; For there by the bedside, standin' up and well was my wife. And who do ye think was with her? Why, Jack, as large as life. It was him as I'd saved from drownin' the night as the lifeboat went To the wreck of the Royal Helen ; 'twas that as the vision meant. They'd brought us ashore together, he'd knelt by his mother's bed, And the sudden joy had raised her like a miracle from the dead ; And mother and son together had nursed me back to life, And my old eyes woke from darkness to look on my son and wife. Jack? He's our right hand now, sir; 'twas Provi- dence pulled him through — He's alius the first aboard her when the lifeboat wants a crew. THE MAGIC WAND. A SCHOOL BOARD OFFICER'S STORY. ORRIBLE dens, sir, aren't they? This is one of my daily rounds It's here, in these awful places, That child-life most abounds. We ferret from ro«f to basement In search of our tiiiy prey ; We're down on their homes directly If they happen to stop away. Knock at the door! Pooh, nonsense! They wouldn't know what it meant. Come in and look about you ; They'll think you're a School Board gent Did you ever see such hovels ? Dirty, and damp, and small. Look at the rotten flooring, Look at the filthy wall. 12 THE LIFEBOAT That's lucky — the place is empty, The whole of the family's out. This is one of my fav'rite cases : Just give a glance about. There's a father and four young children, And Sally the eldest 's eight ; They're horribly poor — half-starving — And they live in a shocking state. The father gets drunk and beats them. The mother she died last year: There's a story about her dying I fancy you'd like to hear. She was one of our backward pupils, Was Sally the eldest child — A poor little London blossom The alley had not defiled. She was on at the Lane last winter — She played in the pantomime ; A lot of our School Board. children Get on at the Christmas time. She was one of a group of fairies, And her wand was the wand up there — There, in the filthy corner Behind the broken chair. AND OTHER POEMS. 13 The gilt of the star has faded, And the tinsel's peeled away ; But once, in the glaring lime-light, It gleamed like a jewelled spray. A fairy's wand in a lodging In a slum like this looks queer ; But you'll guess why they let her keep it When you know how the wand came here. Her mother was ill that winter, Her father, the drunken sot, Was spending his weekly earnings And all that the fairy got. The woman lay sick and moaning, Dying by slow degrees Of a cruel and wasting fever That rages in dens like these. But night after night went Sally, Half starved, to the splendid scene Where she waved a wand of magic As a Liliput fairy queen. She stood in the " Land of Shadows " Where a demon worked his spell, At a wave of her wand he vanished, And the scene was changed as well. 14 THE LIFEBOAT She'd a couple of lines to utter, Which bade the gloom give way To the " Golden Home of Blisses In the Land of the Shining Day." She gazed on the limelit splendours That grew as she waved her wand, And she thought of the cheerless cellar Old Drur^s walls beyond. And when, in her ragged garments, No longer a potent fay, She knelt by the wretched pallet Where her dying mother lay. She thought, as she stooped and kissed her, And looked in the ghastly face. Of the wand that could change a dungeon To a sweet and lovely place, She was only a wretched outcast, A waif of the London slums ; It's little of truth and knowledge To the ears of such children comes. She fancied her wand was truly Possessed of a magic charm, That it punished the wicked people, And shielded the good from harm. AND OTHER POEMS. 15 Her mother grew slowly weaker, The depth of the winter came, And the teeth of the biting weather Seized on the wasted frame. And Sally, who saw her sinking. Came home from the Lane one night With her shawl wrapped over something, And her face a ghostly white. She had hidden the wand and brought it, The wand that could do so much ; She crept to the sleeping woman, Who moved not at her touch. She stooped to hear her breathing, It was, O, so faint and low ; Then, raising her wand, she waved it, Like a fairy, to and fro. Her well-known lines she uttered. That bade the gloom give way To "The Golden Home of Blisses In the Land of Shining Day." She murmured, " O mother, dearest. You shall look on the splendid scene ! " While a man from the playhouse watched hei Who'd followed the fairy queen. 1 6 THE LIFEBOAT. &'c. He thought she had stolen something, And brought it away to sell, He had followed her home and caught her And then he'd a tale to tell. He told how he watched her waving The wand by her mother's bed, O'er a face where the faint grey shadows Of the last long sleep had spread. SjC ^ !{! SjC She's still at the school, is Sally, And she's heard of the Realms of Light ; So she clings to the childish fancy That entered her head that night. She says that her poor sick mother By her wand was charmed away From earth to the Home of Blisses In the Land of Eternal Day. A BUNCH OF PRIMROSES. ♦— — AM only a faded primrose, dying for want of air ; I and my drooping sisters lie in a garret bare. We were plucked from the pleasant woodland only a week ago, But our leaves have lost their beauty, and our heads are bending low. We grew in a yellow cluster under a shady tree, In a spot where the winds came wooing straight from the Sussex sea ; And the brisk breeze kissed us boldly as we nodded to and fro In the smiling April weather — only a week ago. c i8 THE LIFEBOAT Only a week this morning ! Ah, me ! but it seems a year Since the only dew- on our petals was a_^woman's briny tear; Since the breeze and the merry sunshine were changed for this stifling gloom y. And the soot of the smoky chimneys^at robs us of our bloom. >''qmet, behinc We grew in a nook so''qmet, behinn a hedge so high ; X/ We were hie' from the peeping child/en ^yho, laugh- ing, passed us by. ^ But a primrose gatherer spied us- — :his cruel hand came down ; .^ We were plucked in the ^rly morning and packed and sent to town. ' We were tossed in a busy market from grimy hand to hand, 'Till a great rough woman took us, and hawked us about the Strand; Clutched in her dirty fingers our tender stalks were tiedj And " A penny a bunch, who'll buy 'em ? — fiHc primroses 1 " she cried. AND OTHER POEMS. 19 We lay on the woman's basket till a white-faced girl came past; There was, O, such a world of yearning in the lingering look she cast — Cast on the tumbled bunches — a look that seemed to. say, " O, if I only had you ! " — ^but she sighed and she turned away. She was only gone for a moment, and then she was back again ; She'd the look on her pale, pinched features that told of the hunger pain ; She held in her hand the penny that ought to have bought her bread, But she dropped it into the basket and took us home instead. Home — ^how we seemed to wither, as the light of day grew dim, And up to a London garret she bore us with weary limb! But her cla«p it was kind and gentle, and there shone a light in her eyes That made us think for a moment we were under our native skies. C 2 20 THE LIFEBOAT She stole in the room on tiptoe, and " Alice," she softly said, " See what I've brought you, Alice ! " Then a sick girl raised her head. And a faint voicp answered, " Darling, how kind of you to bring The flowers I love so dearly — I've longed for them all the spring. " I've thought of it so often, the green bank far away. And the posies we used to gather — it seems but the other day ; Lay them beside my pillow, they'll last as long as I — How quickly in cruel London the country blossoms die!" We pined in our gloomy prison, and we thought how sweet we were Blooming among the hedgerows out in the balmy air, Where we gladdened the eyes that saw us all in our yellow pride, And we thought noyr our lives were wasted as we lay by z. sick hedsid*. AND OTHER POEMS. 21 We thought how our lives >vere wasted until we grew to know We were dear to the dying workgirl for the sake of the long ago ; That her anguish was half forgotten as she looked upon us and w^ent Back in her dreams to the woodland filled with the primrose scent. We primroses are dying, and so is Alice, fast ; But her sister sits beside her, watching her to the last, Working with swollen eyelids for the white slave's scanty wage. And starving to save her darling and to still the fever's rage. We stand on the little table beside the sick girl's bed, And we know by the words she murmurs that she wanders in her head; She stretches her hand to take us, and laughs like a child at play — She thinks that she sees us growing on the old bank far away. 22 THE LIFEBOAT Forgotten the gloomy garret, the fierce and the fevered strife — Forgotten the weary journey that is ending with her life; The black, black night has vanished, and the weary workgirl hies Back to her country childhood, plucking a primrose prize. We have banished awhile her sorrow, we have brought back the sunny smile That belongs to the children's faces in the days that are free from guile. The Babylon roar comes floating up from the street below : Yet she lists to the gentle plashing of a brook in its spring-tide flow. The gurgling brook in the meadow, with its prim- rose-laden brim — How thick were the yellow clusters on the bank where she sat with him 1 With him who had loved and lost her, who had trampled a blossom down. Ah, me ! for the country blossoms brought to the cruel town ! AND OTHER POEMS. 23 Thank God for the good brave sister who found the lost one there ; Who toiled with her for the pittance that paid for that garret bare ; Who slaved when the wasted fingers grew all too weak to sew. And hid all her troubles bravely that Alice might never know. We have brought one country sunbeam to shine in that garret bare; But to-morrow will see us lifeless — killed by the poisoned air. Then the primrose dream will vanish, and Alice will ask in vain For the poor little yellow posy that made her a child again. ^ ie- i^ * On to our faded petals there falls a scalding tear ; As we lie to-night on the bosom of her who held us dear. We shall go to the grave together^for the work- girl lies at rest, With a faded primrose posy clasped to her icy breast. itt^ NELLIE'S PRAYER. T'S a month to-day since they brought me The news of my darling's death ; I knew what it meant when the neighbours Whispered under their breath ; And one good motherly creature, Seeing my Nell at play, Stooped down, with her eyelids streaming, And kissed her and turned away. I knew that my Nell was an orphan And I was a widowed wife, That a soldier for Queen and country Had bravely given his life ; That out on the field of battle. Under the far-off skies. He had thought of his absent dear ones With the film of death on his eyes. THE LIFEBOAT. &c. 25 It was there in the evening paper, His name was among the dead— We had won a glorious battle, And the enemy, beaten, fled. Then they counted the dead and wounded, And found him among the slain ; God ! had I known when we parted We were never to meet again 1 1 couldn't believe the story — I couldn't believe that he, My darling — my soldier husband — Would never come back to me. I had thought of him night and morning ; I had passed long nights on my knees Praying that God would bring him Back to me over the seas. It all came back like a vision ; I could hear the band as it played When the regiment marched to the station, And the noise that the people made As they shouted "Good luck" to the soldiers. And gave them three ringing cheers, While the women, with ashen faces. Walked by the side in tears. 26 THE LIFEBOAT We walked by his side that morning, And Nellie was quite elate With the band and the crowd and the theering- My Nellie was only eight. She never thought of the danger ; He had tried to make her gay, And told her to take care of mother — He wouldn't be long away. He held her up at the station, Lifte.d her up to kiss, And then, with her arms (lung round him, Said to her, softly, this : " Nellie, my pet, at bed time. When you kneel at your mother's knee To pray to the God who loves us, Say a wee prayer for me. " I shall think of you in the twilight, ^ When the stars come out above, 'A.nd fancy I see you kneeling With your blue eye full of love. Breathing my name to Heaven ; And if, as the good folks say, God hears the prayers of the children, He'll guard me while I'm away. AND OTHER POEMS. a? " He'll guard me, and bring me safely Back, little Nell, to you : There's many a danger, darling. He'll have to help me through." And the child looked up at her father. The tears in her pretty eyes ; There was something of shame in her manner — Something of sad surprise. " You needn't have asked me, daddy, I always do that ! " she said ; " Don't I pray for you and for mammy At night when I go to bed ? God loves the little children. And answers their prayers, they say ; I'm sure that you'll come back safely, I'll ask in my prayers that you may." It's only a month since they started. We thought when the regiment went That long ere the troops were landed The force of the war would be spent And so I had taken courage, And looked on the bright side first, Though now and again I fretted. And sometimes feared the worst. 28 THE LIFEBOAT They took little Nellie from me, Took her away for a while ; How could I hear her prattle, And watch her eager smile, As she counted the days till daddy Would be back from the foreign shore t How could I tell my darling She would see his face no more ? I was left alone with my sorrow- Alone in my little room, Where the evening shadows deepened Into the twilight gloom. I had heard the words they uttered, I had seen his name on the list ; But I sat and peered through the darkness As a sailor peers through the mist I sat like a sleeper doubting If she dreams or is wide awake. Till the truth came on me fiercely, And I thought that my heart would break. As I sat in the deepening gloaming The child came back again, And I picked her up and kissed her While my tears ran down like rain. AND OTHER POEMS. 29 '• Why are you crying, mammy ? " I only shook my head. " It's nothing, Nellie," I whispered : " Kiss me, and go to bed." " Let me say my prayers, mammy — Will you hear me say them now ? ** She prayed for her absent father ; I listened, but God knows how. She prayed to the Lord to bi-ing him, Safe and sound and well, Back from the far-off country To mother and little Nell — Prayed that, with her father lying In that far-off country dead ! " Now, father 's safe till to-morrow," She whispered,' and went to bed. I hadn't the heart to tell her, So night after night she prayed, Just as she promised her father When the last good-bye he bade. But the prayer was a cruel dagger To me as I sat and heard, And my heart was stabbed to bleeding With every childish word. 30 THE LIFEBOAT So a weary month went over, Till at last my nerves gave way, And I told her to stop one evening, As she came to my knee to pray. My brain was turned with sorrow, I was wicked and weak and wild To speak as I spoke that evening, And shock the faith of a child. She heard what I said ; then, sobbing, Broke from my knee and fled Up to her room, and I heard her Kneeling beside her bed. She prayed in her childish fashion, But her words were choked with tears- I had told her it wasn't always God the prayer of the children hears She prayed that her absent father Might come back safe and well, From the perils of war and battle, To mother and little Nell. And, ere ever her prayer was finished, The door was opened wide, And my darling rushed towards me — My darling who had died ! AND OTHER FUhMb. 31 I gave one cry and I fainted, And Nell ran down at the cry: " They said God wouldn't hear me," She told him by-and-by. When the shock of surprise was over We knew what the miracle meant, There'd been a mistake in- the bodies, And the news to the wrong wife sent. There were two of his name in the regiment— The other was killed, and when It came to making the list out An error was made in the men. Yet I think as I clasp my darling, Would he still be here to-day Had I shaken Nell's simple tenet, " God listens when children pray " ? IN THE SIGNAL BOX. A STATIONMASTER'S STORY. ES, it's a quiet station, but it suits me well enough ; I want a bit of the smooth now, for I've had my share o' rough. This berth that the company gave me, they gave as the work was light ; I was never fit for the signals after one awful night. I'd been in the box from a younker, and I'd never felt the strain Of the lives at my right ha,nd's mercy in every passing train. One day there was something happened, and it made my nerves go queer, Arid it's all through that as you find me the station- master here. THE LIFEBOAT. &€. 33 I was on at the box down yonder — that's where we turn the mails, And specials, and fast expresses, on to the centre rails ; The side's for the other traffic — the luggage and local slows. It was rare hard work at Christmas, when double the traffic grows. I've been in the box down yonder nigh sixteen hours a day, Till my eyes grew dim and heavy, and my thoughts went all astray ; But I've worked the points half-sleeping — and once I slept outright, Till the roar of the Limited woke me, and I nearly died with fright. Then I thought of the lives in peril, and what might have been their fate Had I sprung to the points that evening a tenth of a tick too late ; And a cold and ghastly shiver ran icily through my frame As I fancied the public ojamour, the trial, and bitter shame. O 34 THE LIFEBOAT I could see the bloody wreckage — I could see the mangled slain— And the picture was seared for ever, blood-red, on my heated brain. That moment my nerve was shattered, for I couldn't shut out the thought Of the lives I held in my keeping, and the ruin that might be wrought. That night in our little cottage, as I kissed our sleeping child. My wife looked up from her sewing, and told me, as she smiled. That Johnny had made his mind up — he'd be a pointsman too. " He says when he's big, like daddy, he'll work in the box with you." I frowned, for my heart was heavy, and my wife she saw the look ; Lord bless you ! my little Alice could read me like a book. I'd to tell her of what had happened, and I said that I must leave, For a pointsman's arm ain't trusty when terror lurks in his sleeve. AND OTHER POEMS. 35 But she cheered me up in a minute, and that night, ere we went to sleep. She made me give her a promise, which I swore that I'd always keep — It was always to do my duty. " Do that, and then, come what will, You'll have no worry," said Alice, " if things go well or ill. There's something that always tells us the thing that we ought to do " — My wife was a bit religious, and in with the chapel crew But I knew she was talking reason, and I said to myself, says I, " I won't give in like a coward — it's a scare that'll soon go by." Now, the very next day the missus had to go to the market town ; She'd the Christmas things to see to, and she wanted to buy a gown. She'd be gone for a spell, for the parly didn't come back till eight, And I knew, on a Christmas Eve, too, the trains would be extra late. D 2 36 THE LIFEBOAT So she settled to leave me Johnny, and then she could turn the key — For she'd have some parcels to carry, and the boy would be safe with me. He was five was our little Johnny, and quiet, and" nice, and good- He was mad to go with daddy, and I'd often promised he should. It was noon when the missus started — her train went by my box ; She could see, as she passed my window, her dar- ling's curly locks. I lifted him up to mammy, and he kissed his little hand, Then sat, like a mouse, in the corner, and thought it was fairyland. But somehow I fell a-thinking of a scene that would not fade. Of how I had slept on duty, until I grew afraid ; For the thought would weigh upon me, one day I might come to lie In a felon's cell for the slaughter of those I had doomed to die. -^ AND OTHER POEMS. yi The fit that had come upon me, like a hideous nightmare seemed, Till I rubbed my eyes and started like a sleeper who has dreamed. For a time the box had vanished — I'd worked like a mere machine — My mind had been on the wander, and I'd neither heard nor seen. With a start I thought of Johnny, and I turned the boy to seek. Then I uttered a groan of anguish, for my lips re- fused to speak ; There had flashed such a scene of horror swift on my startled sight That it curdled my blood in terror and sent my red lips white. It was all in one awful moment — I saw that the boy was lost : He had gone for a toy, I fancied, some child from a train had tossed ; The local was easing slowly to stop at the station here, And the Limited Mail was coming, and I had the line to clear. 38 THE LIFEBOAT I could hear the roar of the engine, I could almost feel its breath, And right on the centre metals stood my boy in the jaws of death ; On came the fierce fiend, tearing straight for the centre line, And the hani>SI SjM^jJS^ ^^JmSaSS THE POETS ON THE MARRIAGE WITH A DECEASED WIFE'S SISTER BILL, T comes as a boon and a blessing to men When your missus as was disappears from your ken. — Anonymous. When from the wife you get a {)arting benison, Her sister will console you. — Alfred Tennyson, When weary, worn, and nigh distraught with grief, You mourn Maria in your handkerchief, Rush, rush to Aunty, and obtain relief. An F.S.A. of over ioo Years. Beneath the spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands — With Mrs. Smith it's all U P, She's gone to other lands. THE LIFEBOAT, &'c. 133 But he goes on Sunday to the church, And hears her sister's voice ; He leaves his scruples in the lurch, And she makes his heart rejoice. The morning sees his suit commenced, The evening sees it done — Next day the Parson ties the knot. And Pa and Aunt are one. — Longfellow. It's a sin, says the Bishop, says he, With her sister the wife to supplant; But I answers him, makin' so free, Mr. Bishop, I sez, as it aunt. — Comic Journal. O blood-bitten lip all aflame, O Dolores and also Faustine, O aunts of the world worried shame, Lo your hair with its amorous sheen Meshes man in its tangles of gold ; O aunts of the tremulous thrill. We are pining — we long to enfold The Deceased Wife's Fair Relative Bill. — Swinburne. THE LOST CORD. (WITH A THOUSAND APOLOGIES.) EATED one day in a carriage, I was frightened and ill at ease, For a fellow, behaving wildly. Was up to his drunken sprees. I knew not if he was playing, Or what I was doing then, But I pulled the cord like winking While the lunatic shrieked " Amen." It rattled against the ceiling As I clasped it in my palm, Then it broke and fell on the cushion, Where it lay in a holy calm. THE LIFEBOAT, &'c. 135 It startled the next compartment, On the lunatic's nerves it jarred; It reached the length of the carriage, But it never reached the guard. It may be a grand invention At the distant guard to get ; But I've tried it in twenty cases And I've never succeeded yet. A PLUMBER. (AN EPISODE OF A RAPID THAW.) HE dirty snow was thawing fast, As through the London streets there past A youth, who, mid snow, slush, and ice, Exclaimed, "I don't care what's the price — A Plumber ! " His brow looked mad, his eye beneath Was fixed and fierce — he clenched his teeth. While here and there a bell he rung, But found not all the shops among A Plumber. He saw his home, he saw the light Wall paper sopped — a gruesome sight. He saw his dining-room afloat. He cried, " I'll give a fi'pun note — A Plumber l" THE LIFEBOAT. &-c. 137 " O stop the leak ! " his wife had said ; "The ceiling's cracking overhead. The roaring torrent's deep and wide" — " I'll go and fetch," he had replied, " A Plumber." " Pa ain't at home," the maiden said, When to the plumber's house he sped. He searched through London, low and high, But nowhere could he catch or spy A Plumber. Next morn, a peeler on his round, A mud-bespattered trav'ller found, Who grasped the " Guide to Camden Town" With hand of ice — the page turned down At " Plumbers." They brought a parson to his side, He gently murmured ere he died — " My house has floated out to sea, I am not mad — it's not d.t. — It's Plumbers." THE MUFFIN BELL. HEARD it when a babe in arms, I heard it when a child ; And when I caught its music sweet I know I always smiled. In later years its jocund sound would o'er my senses steal, And sweet remembrance bring me back of many a pleasant meal. Before mine eyes a picture rose- of happy after- noons — When jam was brought to deck the board, and also silver spoons; Of crumpets piled before the fire, and muffins smoking hot. The hissing urn, and mother's best electro-plated pot. THE LIFEBOAT, &-€. 139 I see the merry muffin-man pass down the dark'ning street, And still his bell can charm me, though his wares I dare not eat ! I never hear its tink-a-tink but pictures fancy sees Of English hearths and English homes and happy English teas. And shall they stay the mufRn-bell, and stop its merry tongue, That speaks of homely English ways alike to old and young ? With foolish laws Britannia's soul, alas! is sorely vext : If quietly we yield the bell, they'll seize the muffins next. No ! by the teas our fathers ate, and by the muffins brown Our mothers talked their scandal o'er and criticised the town — No ! by the crumpet, sweet and crisp, and pikelet loved so well. Ye shall not fine our muffin-man, or stop the mufBn- bell! HIS WIFE. HERE'S a gentleman up at the top of our street, And he's got such a thick pair of boots on his feet, And he's kicking a lady, and taking her life : But we won't interfere — for the lady's his wife. Let us stand in a crowd, as we've nothing to do, And watch her face showing the black and the blue. O ! He's going to finish her off with a knife ! Give him plenty of room. Pon't you see? — ^she's his wife. THE LIFEBOAT, &-c. 14X What a strange thing to do ! See; in fury he tries To bite off her ears and to gouge out her eyes. But it's merely domestic, this marital strife ; And we won't interfere between husband and wife. Hullo! What was that? O, how shocking to see I There's a small boy of seven destroying a tree ! Let us stop him at once, for this mischief is rife. Here we can interfere — for a tree 's not a wife. COMET B, 1881. OPEN my window wide to-night, and I cast my gaze on high, Where the stars are out, and the Milky Way, and lots of the smaller fry. And over my head, with a fan-shaped tail, I as plain as a pikestaff see The comet that came in 'Eighty-one — the comet that's known as B. 0, Comet B, with the fan-shaped tail, that came in this year of grace, Some wonderful thoughts have come to me, as I gaze on your shining face. Look well, look well, on the earth below from your perch in the starlit sky. For lots of things will have changed, I guess, before you again come by. THE LIFEBOAT. &-c. 143 I've read of you in the sage's page, and there astronomers say It may be the year three thousand odd ere you come again this way ; And all the mortals who see you now will be under the green, green sod, And even their names will have passed away in the year three thousand odd. O, what will you see in that wondrous year when you shine upon English ground! With the babble of what un-English race will the ancient spots resound? Will mighty cities stretch far and wide, and the isle be black with men, Or will ruin reign in the Old-World spot where the wild beast makes its den. Go, comet of eighteen eighty-one ! Sail on through the trackless spheres, And come again when your journey's done, in seventeen hundred years. Good-bye, old fellow ! I wave my hand, and I give you a parting nod, For I sha'n't be here when you come again, in the year three thousand odd. THE PEELER IN ARMS. • T was a gallant peeler, he was weaponed to the teeth ; His dirk was in his stocking, and his sword was in its sheath ; He'd a pistol for garrotters, and a blunderbuss as well. And to storm an Irish alley he had also shot and shell. He'd a ca,nnon at the corner, and a powder maga- Was erected for that peeler on the nearest bit of green ; He had dynamite provided when he went upon his beat, And a stand of arms kept ready at the top of every street. THE LIFEBOAT, &-€, 145 With his fierce moustaches twirling and his helmet on his head, Soon he filled the British public with a lively sense of dread. He would order orange women to " move on " in awful tone, And would prod them with his "baynet" if un- willingness was shown. If a boy was selling matches where the trams and 'buses stop, You would hear a little pistol give a pretty little pop; For the arabs were the targets for the practice of the force, Lest when aiming at a robber they should chance to kill a horse. ^ Now, this military peeler, when the snow was on the ground, Took the " Please to sweep your doorway" on his early morning round. If a householder neglected his commandment to obey. He would up with his revolvers and politely blaze' away. 146 THE LIFEBOAT, arc. Soon were heard the signs of mourning, and the streets grew thin of folk — Half the populace had perished through this "armed policeman" joke; Then the peelers having weapons, and no ejiemy to> slay, Had a go at one another, and fought all one summer day. When the sun had set in glory all the ground was strewn with gore, And a whole unchopped policeman was a memory of yore ; Then the populace remaining came and gathered up the bits — prom that day no armed policemen have gone shooting peaceful cits. THE BOLD BAD MAN. ■ — « AM a dreadful character, in vice I go the pace; I'll give a start to any man and win an easy race ; I've galloped helter-skelter through the catalogue of crimes, Committed theft and perjury at least a dozen times. I've had my fling at forgery, at felony, and fraud. And when I go marauding, you can bet I do maraud ; But I never condescended, though of crime I've made a tour, To the greatest crime in Christendom — the crime of being poor. I. 2 148 THE LIFEBOAT And that's how I keep from detection ; If you'll give it a moment's reflection You all will agree In this precept with me, That it's awfully wrong to be poor. For the rich oft may sin, While the poor get run in, O, it's awfully wrong to be poor. I've been a bank director, and the bank it went to smash, For we'd played at speculation with a lot of poor folk's cash ; I've got up little swindles in the shape of silver mines, And sold the juice of cabbage stalks as port and sherry wines. I've manufactured butter out of railway grease and fat. Cut I go to church on Sundays, and I always smell my hat ; My balance at my banker's makes my dodges safe and sure — The safest sort of roguery's to rob and cheat the poor. AND OTHER POEMS. 149 And that's how I keep from detection ; It" you'll give it a moment's reflection You all will agree In this precept with me, That it's safest to swindle the poor. The rich make a row, But the poor folks we cow, So it's safest to swindle the poor. If my little game were murder, still I'd keep my fingers clean ; I could bribe my poorer brothers — monarchs do the same, I ween ; When their neighbour's land kings covet, what's about the price they pay ? Don't they send men out to rob him at a bob a head a day ? Bother ^«27/ upon your conscience ! — if you've gold inside your purse, You can be as bad as I am, and, in fact, a little worse. Wealth can make the wicked honoured, and give beauty to the boor. But you mustn't be a villain if you happen to be poor. ISO THE LIFEBOAT, &c. And that's how I keep from detection ; If you'll give it a moment's reflection You all will agree In this precept with me, That it's awfully wrong to be poor. For th& rich oft may sin, Where the poor get run in, O, it's awfully wrong to be poor. THE ROSEBUDS. ATHER ye rosebuds while ye may," So sang the bard of a bygone day ; " Old time is still a-flying." Yet "Hold your hand," I would rather cry, If you gather the buds in passing by, To ruin and leave them lying. The rose's life is the sunlit land, Its soul is crushed in your cruel hand ; In sorrow it droops and closes. O, gather no rosebuds then, I say. To pine for their kindred far away. But leave them to come to roses. THE REAL REMEDY. ♦ lORCE.is no remedy for Irish ills, The hvers there won't yield to leaden pills ; When people starve, and that tongues may not wag, The food we stop their mouths with is a gag ; No general 's needed Ireland's wrong to right, But just a few left tenants who won't fight. ■PaisiED AT 19 AND 20, TriHi: Orncs Cottkt, Fleet Sieeet, E.C