Classic Poem

So nigh to a hedge-hog as man could be,
Was Jehosaphat Row.
The world couldn't show
Another like he.
Eyes like a haddock, sticking out of his head;
So thin as a hake;
A face like a gurnard, so long and so red;
A mouth like a cod, and teeth like a rake.
If you vexed en so much as the least little bit
He'd ill-wish 'ee with just a cast of his eye,
And your pig, or your cow, or something would die.
A proper old toad for the venom he'd spit.
The children at play
Would all run away
In a terrible fright
If Josh Row came in sight.
He was all that was bad.
And the money he had!—
Or so they all said,
Hid away in a stocking, or stitched up in his clothes,
And the rags that he wore, holes at elbows and toes.
To church or to chapel he never would go.
A proper old heathen was Josaphat Row.

Now next door or so
To Josaphat Row
Lived Miss Susan Crocker, a sour old maid,
So sharp with her tongue even Josh was afraid.
Where she'd a-come from nobody knew.
There was all sorts of tales that might have been true.
That she once was a lady, and quite well to do.
Never troubled so much as to do up a shoe,
Had a carriage and pair,
And servants a score
For to open the door,
And a maid just for nothing but do up her hair.
She was poor enough now, and yet here and there
Were odd bits of finery that made the folks stare.
She went on her way
With never so much as a passing good-day,
And if she did speak
'Twas a snort and a shriek,
And a snap,
Like the teeth of a trap.

Well, one winter's night—'twas a terrible gale,
Pitch dark and a-pelting with wind and with hail,
And the cold was so cruel
That much as he grudged it Josh needed more fuel,
—Though the furze and peat and the bundle of sticks
He got it for nothing, always up to his tricks—
Well, he opened the door
To go out for some more,
While the beat of the rain swept in on the floor;
And then as the howl of the storm went by
Jehosaphat started, for there was a cry.
He listened, and plainly he heard it again.
He lit up his lantern and hurried away,
And close by the door—it gave him a turn
All sheltered within a bundle of fern
A poor baby lay,
Wrapped up in a rag,
So cold as a winnard, so wet as a shag.
Josh looked and fairly perspired with fright;
He scratched his head as he did in a plight;
He took up the baby, set it down by the fire,
Flung on a whole furze bush, and piled it up higher:

Then he hurried away,
And in to Miss Crocker,
—Could not even stay
To lift up the knocker.
“ There's a baby ,” he cried. Miss Susan arose
With a curl of her lip, and a tilt of her nose,
And was going to crush Josh with a snappish reply,
When she stopped, for there was a look in his eye
All pity and pleading. “Please it wants to be fed.
Do 'ee make haste and come, or I'm 'fraid 'twill be dead.”
Then she picked up her shawl, not a moment's delay,
And into old Josh's she hurried away,
Sat down by the fire, the child on her lap,
Took the shawl from her shoulders and made it a wrap.
Josh stood by the chair
With a wondering stare.
“I do thank 'ee for coming, Miss Susan, I knew
You could tell in a minute what we ought for to do.”

Miss Susan replied in accents of silk,
“I think, Mr. Row, you must go for some milk.”
And, Josh, he was up and off like a shot,
Didn't know it was freezing, indeed, was quite hot;
All breathless with haste he flew over the ground,
And tenderly told of the baby he'd found.
All the place was astir,
Each was eager to share
In the little one's care,
Till Josaphat's kitchen swarmed like a hive.
Feeding-bottles were waiting, there were at least five,
And cradles, the neighbours had really brought three,
And clothes, such a lot,
Whatever they'd got—
Old coats and new skirts,
Men's trousers and shirts.
“God bless you,” said Josh, as he mopped at his brow,
Miss Crocker, she smiled, “We shall really do now.”
While the great fire crackled and scorched with its glow.
And Josh's old place seemed a heaven below.

When the neighbours had gone,
Miss Susan stayed on,
While Josaphat Row
Tiptoed to and fro,
Afraid of his life Miss Susan would go.
Then she turned with such grace,
Such light in her eyes, and such love in her face,
“I'm sure you must be quite tired,” she said,
“I'll stay by the baby—you get off to bed.”

Next day when the baby was washed and was fed,
And lay fast asleep in its warm little bed,
Miss Susan was gone for an hour or more,
And came back quite laden, there was such a store
Of fine laces and bits of most dainty apparel;
Then, rocking the cradle and singing a carol,
She sat snipping, and stitching, and trimming, and tying,
As if for dear life her needle was flying,
Till up on Josh's old table there rose
A pile of the finest of infantile clothes.

Then Josh came up blushing, “Aw, Miss Susan, please,
If there's anything wanted, do 'ee mind takin' these?”
There was five golden sovereigns all of a row,
Miss Susan, she stared with a smile and said, “Oh”—
And she busily bent at her work, and she thought—
“What a wonderful change the baby has wrought!”
Josh watched her a minute—“I never did see
Such a change as that which has come over she.”
Then Josh went to market—later, homeward he came,
The folks hardly knew him—not a bit like the same.
Clean-shaven—his wild, shaggy locks were well trimmed;
In place of the rags a new suit of clothes;
Quite a gentleman now from his head to his toes,
While he chuckled with laughter; with good humour brimmed.

But soon came the trouble. Miss Crocker must stay
To see to the baby by night and by day,
Or else she must carry the baby away.
But Josh wouldn't hear of it—“Bless en, the dear,
Lev en bide please Miss Crocker, along with me here.”
And with such a tone of entreaty was spoken,
That anything else and his heart would have broken.
“It is awkward, you know, my dear Mr. Row”—
Said Miss Crocker, “But, really, I fear I must go.”
Then a brilliant idea came into his head—
“Well, I tell 'ee, Miss Crocker, lev us gone to be wed.”
Miss Crocker looked down, and she hawed and she hummed,
With thimble on finger the table she drummed.
Then the baby it woke with a faint little cry.
Miss Crocker took it, and said with a sigh—
“Well, 'tis only because of the baby, you know”—
“Of course, iss, of course,” said Josaphat Row.