Part 16 (1/2)

All satisfied we their short ride- But sorry for the rain- Each thenkt ther stars they're nowt no war, An' we've got home again.

Whene'er we roam away from home, No matter where or when, In storm or shower, if in wer power, To home-sweet home, return!

What we had seen-where we had been- Each to our friend wor telling: The day being spent, we homeward went To each respective dwelling.

Dame Europe's Lodging House.

Dame Europa kept a Lodging House, And she was fond of bra.s.s; She took in public lodgers, Of every rank and cla.s.s.

She'd French and Germans, Dutch and Swiss, And other nations too; So poor old Mrs. Europe Had plenty work to do.

I cannot just now name her beds, Her number being so large; But five she kept for deputies, Which she had in her charge.

So in this famous Lodging house, John Bull he stood A ONE, On whom she always kept an eye, To see things rightly done.

And Master Louis was her next, And second, there's no doubt, For when a little row took place, He always backed John out.

For in her house was Alex Russ, Oft him they ey'd with fear; For Alex was a lazy hound, And kept a Russian Bear.

Her fourth was a man of grace, And was for heaven bent; His name was Pious William, Guided by his testament.

Her fifth, too, was a pious Knave, And 'tis our firm belief, He once did rob the Hungary Lads Of their honest bread and beef.

These were Dame Europe's deputies, In whom she put her trust, To keep her lodging house at peace, In case eruption burst.

For many a time a row took place, While sharing out the scran; But John and Louis soon stepp'd in, And cleared the _padding can_.

Once Alex Russ's father Nick, A bit before he died, Seized a little Turk one day, And thought to warm his hide.

But John and Louis soon stepp'd in, Declaring it foul play; And made old Nick remember it Until his dying day.

Now all Dame Europe's deputies, They made themselves at home; And every lodger knew his bed, Likewise his sitting room.

They took great interest in their beds, And kept them very clean; Unlike some other padding cans, So dirty and so mean.

But Louis had the nicest bed, Of any of the lot; And being close by a window, He loved a flower pot.

The best and choicest bed of all, Was occupied with Johnny; Because the Dame did favour him, He did collect her money.

And in a little bunk he lived, Seal'd up with oak, and tarr'd; He would not let a single one, Come near within a yard.

A Jack of all trades, too, was John, And aught he'd do for bra.s.s; And what he ever took in hand, No one could him surpa.s.s.

When tired of being shut up it bunk, Sometimes he went across, To spend an hour with Master Louis, And they the wine would toss.

So many a happy day they spent, These lads, with one another; While every lodger in the house, Thought John was Louis' brother.

The Dame allowed John something nice, To get well in her rent, Which every now and then it bank, He put it on per cent.