. Memorials of Thomas phecy. Itwas translated into French and German ; and even, I be-lieve, into Italian. My father used often to laugh andwonder how they rendered the pecuhar burthen, Stitch, stitch, stitch ! and also, Seam and gusset and band! It was printed on cotton pocket-handkerchiefs for sale,and has met with the usual fate of all popular poems,having been parodied times without number. But whatdelighted, and yet touched, my father most deeply was, that,the poor creatures to whose sorrows and sufferings he hadgiven such eloquent voice, seemed to adopt its words astheir own, by s
. Memorials of Thomas phecy. Itwas translated into French and German ; and even, I be-lieve, into Italian. My father used often to laugh andwonder how they rendered the pecuhar burthen, Stitch, stitch, stitch ! and also, Seam and gusset and band! It was printed on cotton pocket-handkerchiefs for sale,and has met with the usual fate of all popular poems,having been parodied times without number. But whatdelighted, and yet touched, my father most deeply was, that,the poor creatures to whose sorrows and sufferings he hadgiven such eloquent voice, seemed to adopt its words astheir own, by singing them about the streets to a rude airof their own adaptation. In the same Christmas Numberof Punch appeared another contribution of my fathers;but it was overlooked, shadowed by the merits of its greatcompanion. When not, however, placed quite so nearthe Song of the Shirt, and regarded as one more illus-tration of the bias of my fathers mind towards all thatwas poor and unregarded, it possesses some interest of MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. THE PAUPEES CHRISTMAS CAROL. Full of drink and full of meat,On our Saviours natal day,(Charitys perennial treat)Thus I heard a Pauper say: — Ought I not to dance and singThus supplied with famous cheer ? Heigh ho! I hardly know —Christmas comes but once a-year ! After labours long turmoil,Sorry fare and frequent and fifty weeks of toil,Pudding time is come at last!But, are raisins high or low,Flour and suet, cheap or dear? Heigh ho! I hardly know —Christmas comes but once a-year! Fed upon the coarsest fare,Three hundred days and sixty-four,But for one on viands as if I was nt poor!Ought not I to bless my stars,Warden, clerk, or overseer ? Heigh ho! I hardly know —Christmas comes but once a-year! Treated like a welcome of Natures social chain,Seated, tended on, and pressd —But when shall I be pressd again 168 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. Twice to pudding, thrice to beef,A dozen times to ale and b
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