And primes and loads heads bald, or gray, or chowder, Figgins and Higgins, Fippins, Filby, Crowder,- But something blacker, bloodier, and louder, This stuff, as people know, is semper To make it, therefore, is a ticklish business, ness, For as all human flash and fancy minders, Frequenting fights and Powder-works well know, There seldom is a mill without a blow Sometimes upon the grinders. But then the melancholy phrase to soften, And advertised than all Price Currents 66 louder, Fragments look up there is a rise in Powder," So frequently, it caused the neighbours' won And certain people had the inhumanity Some ninny-hammer struck upon a nail,— Whether some glow-worm of the Guy Faux stamp, Crept in the building, with Unsafety Lamp - At Cowes' Regatta as I once observed, A pistol-shot made twenty vessels start; If such a sound could terrify oak's heart, Think how this crash the human nerve unnerved. In fact, it was a very awful thing, As people know that have been used to battle, A precious rattle! The dunniest heard it poor old Mr. F. Doubted for once if he was ever deaf; Through Tunbridge town it caused most strange alarms, Mr. and Mrs. Fogg, Who lived like cat and dog, Were shocked for once into each other's arms. And kicked the "Best of Parents" down the stairs: The steadiest servant dropped the China dish; Miss Wiggins, with some grass upon her fork, For, taking wine, With nervous Mr. Pyne, He jerked his glass of Sherry in her face. Bobbed off her bran-new turban in the gravy; Preparing for a Goose a carver's labour, The nurse-maid telling little "Jack-a-Norey," "Bo-peep" and "Blue-cap" at the house's top, Screamed, and let Master Jeremiah drop From a fourth story! Nor yet did matters any better go With Cook and Housemaid in the realms below ;. As for the Laundress, timid Martha Gunning, Expressing faintness and her fear by fits And starts, she came at last but to her wits, By falling in the ale that John left running. Grave Mr. Miles, the meekest of mankind, Struck all at once, deaf, stupid, dumb, and blind, Sat in his chaise some moments like a corse, Then coming to his mind, Was shocked to find, Only a pair of shafts without a horse. Out scrambled all the Misses from Miss Joy's! From Prospect House, for urchins small and big, Hearing the awful noise, Out rushed a flood of boys, Floating a man in black, without a wig; But little Tiddy carried his big brother! Sick of such terrors, The Tunbridge folks resolved that truth should dwell No longer secret in a Tunbridge Well, But to warn Baker of his dangerous errors; Accordingly to bring the point to pass, They called a meeting of the broken glass, And packed it in a cart, Drawn by the horse that ran from Mr. Miles; vex, Went as a deputation to the Ex Now Mr. Baker's dwelling-house had pleased To find the noisy gentleman at home; The worthy Rector, with uncommon zeal, By way of climax, Mrs. Davy's turban; Knocked down a lot without a bidding,— At Prospect House, how Doctor Oates, not Titus, |