Classic Poem

Listen , Lordings, great and small,
Both Marquises and Mayors;
And I will tell you a merry jest
Would tumble a man down stairs.

I sing not of great Robin Hood,
How he a butcher became,
And went a-selling his sheep like eggs
In merry Nottingham.

Nor how he lured the proud Sheriff
Into the greenwood shade,
And served him up the dearest dish
For which he ever paid

And yet I sing of a butcher bold
As ever killed a calf,
And of as dished a head of a town
As ever made food for laugh.

T he M ayor he sat in his golden chair
All in London town;
Never was there proud Lord Mayor
So wondrously set down.

The clerks and things were round about
All according to rule;
And before him was the crowned mace,
And behind the mace was the Fool.

And the Mayor he talked of wondrous things,
(Don't giggle now; — you shouldn't — )
How paupers might employ themselves,
And yet how printers couldn't:

And how we should have all been burnt
And slaughtered in our beds,
If on his shoulders he had not
The savingest of heads

And how accordingly he saved
Each loyal precious limb,
And put the future fire all out,
Though Reformers put out him.

And as the Lord Mayor he sat thus
Talking of this and more,
He was aware of the strangest noise,
That ever perplexed a door

And in he came, with his eyes of flame,
The butcher to praise the Mayor;
And all the people his presence felt
Like a mad bull's in a square.

" I can't contain," the butcher he cried;
" I can't contain any longer!"
And at every word that butcher roared,
His voice grew stronger and stronger.

They say your Lordship is an ass,
Which makes me stamp and swear;
But I told 'em one and all, the dogs.
That you were a damned fine May'r;

" A devilish clever Mayor," said I;
" For damme, it made me hot;
And I said, that however you might speak,
You knew that what was what "

" Thank'ye, thank'ye"; the Mayor he said;
" Thank'ye, thou butcher so mild;
Only take care that in my cause
You kill neither woman nor child"

" Oh, blood and wounds!" the butcher he cried,
" I don't know what I may do;
For they not only call your Lordship an ass,
But a damned old scoundrel too!

" Think o' that — hey — think o' that!"
And the butcher like Falstaff puffed;
" I couldn't bear the vagabonds,
So I kicked 'em and I cuffed:

I kicked their shins, and I cuffed their skins,
Both back and eke belly;
And I told 'em, damme, once for all
You were no more fool than I"

And the butcher measured 'em all with his eyes,
As he might do with a sextant,
And shrugged his shoulders, as who should say,
" Is there no more virtue extant?"

" Thank'ye, thank'ye," said the Mayor
As quick as tongue could stir;
" But I pray thee, for my gentle sake,
Be cool, thou hot butcher.

" Be cool, I pray; for many a day
Have I been called a fool."
" The dev'l you have?" said that big butcher,
" And yet I'm to be cool!

" Blood and wounds! What then, I suppose,
My thanks would have been the same,
If I had kicked them to t'other world,
And made every devil lame?

" Oh, ho! Oh, ho!" — and saying so,
The butcher he tumbled out;
And presently that silent room
Heard a most enormous shout

And so God save the Mansion-House,
And eke the Common-weal,
And keep us from Butchers, both great and small,
Who would cut us up like veal.