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| I WAS in Margate last July, I walked upon the pier, | |
| I saw a little vulgar Boy; I said, “What make you here? | |
| The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks anything but joy”; | |
| Again I said, “What make you here, you little vulgar Boy?” | |
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| He frowned, that little vulgar Boy,—he deemed I meant to scoff,— | 5 |
| And when the little heart is big, a little “sets it off.” | |
| He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose,— | |
| He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose! | |
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| “Hark! don’t you hear, my little man?—it ’s striking, nine,” I said, | |
| “An hour when all good little boys and girls should be in bed. | 10 |
| Run home and get your supper, else your Ma will scold,—O fie! | |
| It ’s very wrong indeed for little boys to stand and cry!” | |
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| The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, | |
| His bosom throbbed with agony,—he cried like anything! | |
| I stooped, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him murmur,—“Ah! | 15 |
| I have n’t got no supper, and I have n’t got no Ma! | |
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| “My father, he is on the seas,—my mother ’s dead and gone! | |
| And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the world alone; | |
| I have not had this livelong day one drop to cheer my heart, | |
| Nor ‘brown’ to buy a bit of bread with,—let alone a tart. | 20 |
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| “If there ’s a soul will give me food, or find me in employ, | |
| By day or night, then blow me tight!” (he was a vulgar Boy;) | |
| “And now I ’m here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent | |
| To jump as Mr. Levi did from off the Monument!” | |
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| “Cheer up! cheer up! my little man,—cheer up!” I kindly said, | 25 |
| “You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head; | |
| If you should jump from off the pier you ’d surely break your legs, | |
| Perhaps your neck,—then Bogey ’d have you, sure as eggs is eggs! | |
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| “Come home with me, my little man, come home with me and sup; | |
| My landlady is Mrs. Jones,—we must not keep her up,— | 30 |
| There ’s roast potatoes at the fire,—enough for me and you,— | |
| Come home, you little vulgar Boy,—I lodge at No. 2.” | |
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| I took him home to No. 2, the house beside “The Foy,” | |
| I bade him wipe his dirty shoes,—that little vulgar Boy,— | |
| And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her sex, | 35 |
| “Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X.” | |
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| But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little noise, | |
| She said she “did not like to wait on little vulgar Boys.” | |
| She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubbed the delf, | |
| Said I “might go to Jericho, and fetch the beer myself.” | 40 |
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| I did not go to Jericho,—I went to Mr. Cobb,— | |
| I changed a shilling (which in town the people call a Bob),— | |
| It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar child,— | |
| And I said, “A pint of double X, and please to draw it mild!” | |
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| When I came back I gazed about,—I gazed on stool and chair,— | 45 |
| I could not see my little friend, because he was not there! | |
| I peeped beneath the table-cloth, beneath the sofa too,— | |
| I said, “You little vulgar Boy! why what ’s become of you?” | |
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| I could not see my table-spoons,—I looked, but could not see | |
| The little fiddle-patterned ones I use when I ’m at tea; | 50 |
| I could not see my sugar-tongs, my silver watch,—O dear! | |
| I knew ’t was on the mantelpiece when I went out for beer. | |
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| I could not see my Macintosh,—it was not to be seen! | |
| Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brimmed and lined with green; | |
| My carpet-bag,—my cruet-stand, that holds my sauce and soy,— | 55 |
| My roast potatoes!—all are gone!—and so ’s that vulgar Boy! | |
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| I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below. | |
| “O Mrs. Jones, what do you think? ain’t this a pretty go? | |
| That little horrid vulgar Boy whom I brought here to-night | |
| He ’s stolen my things and run away!” Says she. “And sarve you right!” | 60 |
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| Next morning I was up betimes,—I sent the Crier round, | |
| All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say I ’d give a pound | |
| To find that little vulgar Boy, who ’d gone and used me so; | |
| But when the Crier cried, “O yes!” the people cried “O no!” | |
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| I went to “Jarvis’ Landing-Place,” the glory of the town, | 65 |
| There was a common sailor-man a-walking up and down, | |
| I told my tale,—he seemed to think I ’d not been treated well, | |
| And called me “Poor old Buffer!”—what that means I cannot tell. | |
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| The Sailor-man, he said he ’d seen that morning on the shore, | |
| A son of—something—’t was a name I ’d never heard before,— | 70 |
| A little “gallows-looking chap,”—dear me, what could he mean?— | |
| With a “carpet-swab,” and “mucking-togs,” and a hat turned up with green. | |
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| He spoke about his “precious eyes,” and said he ’d seen him “sheer,”— | |
| It ’s very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer; | |
| And then he hitched his trousers up, as is, I ’m told, their use,— | 75 |
| It ’s very odd that sailor-men should wear those things so loose. | |
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| I did not understand him well, but think he meant to say | |
| He ’d seen that little vulgar Boy, that morning, swim away | |
| In Captain Large’s Royal George, about an hour before, | |
| And they were now, as he supposed “somewheres” about the shore. | 80 |
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| A landsman said, “I twig the chap,—he ’s been upon the Mill,— | |
| And ’cause he ‘gammons’ so the flats, ve calls him Veeping Bill!” | |
| He said “he ’d done me werry brown,” and nicely “stowed the swag.” | |
| That ’s French, I fancy, for a hat, or else a carpet-bag. | |
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| I went and told the constable my property to track; | 85 |
| He asked me if “I did not wish that I might get it back.” | |
| I answered, “To be sure I do!—it ’s what I ’m come about.” | |
| He smiled and said, “Sir, does your mother know you ’re out?” | |
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| Not knowing what to do, I thought I ’d hasten back to town, | |
| And beg our own Lord Mayor to catch the boy who ’d “done me brown.” | 90 |
| His Lordship very kindly said he ’d try and find him out, | |
| But he “rather thought that there were several vulgar boys about.” | |
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| He sent for Mr. Whitehare there, and I described “the swag,” | |
| My Macintosh, my sugar-tongs, my spoons, and carpet-bag; | |
| He promised that the New Police should all their powers employ, | 95 |
| But never to this hour have I beheld that vulgar Boy! | |
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MORAL Remember, then, that when a boy I ’ve heard my Grandma tell, | |
| “BE WARNED IN TIME BY OTHERS’ HARM, AND YOU SHALL DO FULL WELL!” | |
| Don’t link yourself with vulgar folks, who ’ve got no fixed abode, | |
| Tell lies, use naughty words, and say they “wish they may be blowed!” | 100 |
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| Don’t take too much of double X!—and don’t at night go out | |
| To fetch your beer yourself, but make the pot-boy bring your stout! | |
| And when you go to Margate next, just stop and ring the bell, | |
| Give my respects to Mrs. Jones, and say I ’m pretty well! | |
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