. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. IV. Ah ! The Gazette ;I press my forehead with my trunk, and wetMy tender check with elephantine tears, Shed of a walnut size From my wise eyes, REMONSTRATORY ODE. 153 To think of ruin after prosperous years. What a dread case would be For me—large nie !To meet at Basinghall Street, the first and seventh * And the eleventh !To undergo (D; n !) My last examination !To crin-;e, and to surrender,Like a criminal offender,All my effects—my bell-pull, and my bult, my stock of hay. my new deal celL 1^0post my ivory, sir !And have some cur
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. IV. Ah ! The Gazette ;I press my forehead with my trunk, and wetMy tender check with elephantine tears, Shed of a walnut size From my wise eyes, REMONSTRATORY ODE. 153 To think of ruin after prosperous years. What a dread case would be For me—large nie !To meet at Basinghall Street, the first and seventh * And the eleventh !To undergo (D; n !) My last examination !To crin-;e, and to surrender,Like a criminal offender,All my effects—my bell-pull, and my bult, my stock of hay. my new deal celL 1^0post my ivory, sir !And have some curious commissionerVery irreverently search my trunk ; Sdeath ! I should dieWith rage, to find a tiger in possessionOf my abode ; up to his yellow kneesIn my old straw ; and my profound professionEntrusted to tw o beasts of assignees ! The truth is simply this,—if you will stay Under my very nose, Filling your rowsJust at my feeding-time, to see j^^^r play, My minds made up, No more at nine I sup,Except on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays ;. Takei oh take tho=e lips away 1 From eight to eleven,As I hope for heaven,On Thursdays, and on Sauiidays, nnd Mondays,Ill squeak and ronr, and giuni without cessation,And utterly confound your mark me ! nil my friends of the turry snoutShall join a chorus shout; Jr:r^ A NEW LIFE-PRESERVER. We will be —well spoilYour wicked ruination toil. Insolvency must ensue To you, sir, you ;Unless you move your opposition shop, And let me stop. VI. I have no more to say :—I do not writeli. anger, but in sorrow ; I must look,However, to my interests every night, And they detest your we could join our forces—I should like it ; You do the dialoEjue, and I the voice to me belongs(The Editors of-the Globe and Traveller ringWith praises of it, when I hourly sing God the Kin;^).If such a bargain could be schf-med, Id strike it!I think, too, I could do the Welch old manIn the Youthful Days, i
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