Paint Handel up, that organ chap,
With you, as grinders, in his eye;
Depict some plaintive antique thing,
And say th' original may be seen;—
Blind Milton with a dog and string
May be the Beggar o' Bethnal Green!
Put up in Poet's Corner, near
The little door, a platform small;
Get there a monkey-never fear,
You'll catch the gapers one and all!
Stand each of ye a Body Guard,
A Trumpet under either fin,
And yell away in Palace Yard
"All dead! All dead! Walk in! Walk in!”
(But when the people are inside,
Their money paid-I pray you, bid
The keepers not to mount and ride
A race around each coffin lid.
Poor Mrs. Bodkin thought last year,
That it was hard-the woman clacks-
To have so little in her ear-
And be so hurried through the Wax !—)
"Walk in! two shillings only! come!
Be not by country grumblers funked!Walk in, and see th' illustrious dumb!
The Cheapest House for the defunct!” Write up, 't will breed some just reflection, And every rude surmise 't will stop
that you have no connexion
(In large)—with any other shop!
And still, to catch the Clowns the more,
With samples of your shows in Wax,
Set some old Harry near the door
To answer queries with his are.
Put up some general begging-trunk-
Since the last broke by some mishap,
You've all a bit of General Monk,
From the respect you bore his Cap!
SECRETARY TO THE SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF MENDICITY.
"This is your charge—you shall comprehend all vagrom men."—
HAIL, King of Shreds and Patches, hail,
Disperser of the Poor!
Thou Dog in office, set to bark
All beggars from the door!
Great overseer of overseers,
And Dealer in old rags!
Thy public duty never fails,
Thy ardor never flags!
Oh, when I take my walks abroad,
How many Poor I miss!
Had Doctor Watts walked now-a-days
He would have written this!
So well thy Vagrant catchers prowl,
So clear thy caution keeps
The path-O, Bodkin, sure thou hast
The eye that never sleeps!
No Belisarius pleads for alms,
No Benbow lacketh legs;
The pious man in black is now
The only man that begs!
Street-Handels are disorganized,
Disbanded every band!-
The silent scraper at the door
Is scarce allowed to stand!
The Sweeper brushes with his broom,
The Carstairs with his chalk
Retires-the Cripple leaves his stand,
But cannot sell his walk.
The old Wall-blind resigns the wall,
The Camels hide their humps,
The Witherington without a leg
May n't beg upon his stumps!
Poor Jack is gone, that used to doff
His battered tattered hat,
And show his dangling sleeve, alas !
There seemed no arm in that!
Oh! it was such a sin to air
His true blue naval rags,
Glory's own trophy, like St. Paul,
Hung round with holy flags!
Thou knowest best. I meditate,
My Bodkin, no offence!
Let us, henceforth, but guard our pounds,
Thou dost protect our pence!
Well art thou pointed 'gainst the Poor,
For, when the Beggar Crew
Bring their petitions, thou art paid,
Of course, to "run them through."
Doubtless thou art what Hamlet meant
To wretches the last friend :
What ills can mortals have, they can't "With a bare Bodkin" end?
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