THE BALLAD OF “BEAU BROCADE." “Hark! I hear the sound of coaches !” Beggar's Opera. SEVEN EVENTEEN hundred and thirty-nine :- First great GEORGE was buried and gone ; LONDON then, as the “Guides” aver, And people of rank, to correct their “ tone,” Those were the days of the War with Spain, WHITEFIELD preached to the colliers grim, WALPOLE talked of “a man and his price"; Those, in fine, were the brave days when And of all the knights of the gentle trade This they knew on the whole way down; (For timorous cits on their pilgrimage Would “club" for a “Guard ” to ride the stage ; And the Guard that rode on more than one Open we here on a March-day fine, There was Barber Dick with his basin by; Portly product of Beef and Beer, Straining and creaking, with wheels awry, Lumbering up from Bagshot Heath, Passengers heavily armed inside ; Tried !-but a couple of miles away, Tried successfully, never a doubt,- Cloak-bags rifled, and cushions ripped, Even a Methodist hosier's wife Highwayman's manners no less polite, Sorry to find the company poor, Plucked them all at his ease, in short:- Sympathy ! horror ! and wonderment! Hosier's wife led into the Bar ; Followed the tale of the hundred-and-one Ensign (of BRAGG's) made a terrible clangour : Robber, of course, was “ BEAU BROCADE"; Devonshire DOLLY, plump and red, Spoke it out boldly, staring hard :“Why did n't you shoot then, GEORGE the Guard ?" Spoke it out bolder, seeing him mute :- Portly JOHN grew pale and red, Gasped that “ DOLLY was surely cracked,” (JOHN was afraid of her—that 's a fact !) a GEORGE the Guard grew red and pale, “ Shoot? Why-Rabbit him !-did n't he shoot ?" Muttered—“The Baggage was far too 'cute !” “ Shoot? Why he'd flashed the pan in his eye !”. Muttered "She'd pay for it by and by!" Further than this made no reply. Nor could a further reply be made, And John the Host, in his wakefullest state, But nobody's virtue was over-nice And wherever Purity found abode, II. “Forty” followed to “Thirty-nine.” Glorious days of the Hanover line ! |