. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. I was bidding good-byeTo my Mississ teapot and spoons ! No. III. Id be a Parody.—Bailey. We met—twas in a mob—and I thought he had done me :1 felt—1 could not feel—for no watch was upon me ;He rnn—the night was cold—^and his pace was unalterd,1 too longd much to pelt—but my small-boned leg wore my brand-new boots—and unrivalld their brightness ;They fit me to a hair—how I hated their tightness !I calld, but no one came, and my stride had a tether—Oh, thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather ! And once again we met—and
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. I was bidding good-byeTo my Mississ teapot and spoons ! No. III. Id be a Parody.—Bailey. We met—twas in a mob—and I thought he had done me :1 felt—1 could not feel—for no watch was upon me ;He rnn—the night was cold—^and his pace was unalterd,1 too longd much to pelt—but my small-boned leg wore my brand-new boots—and unrivalld their brightness ;They fit me to a hair—how I hated their tightness !I calld, but no one came, and my stride had a tether—Oh, thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather ! And once again we met—and an old pal was near him ; He swore, a something low—but twas no use to fear him ; I seized upon his arm—he was mine and mine only, And stepped—as he deserved—to cells wretched and lonely : And there he will be tried—but I shall neer receive her, The watch that went too sure for an artful deceiver. The world may think me giy,—heart and feet ache together— Oh, thou h:ist been the cause of this anguish, my Slop him I 523
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