Part 20 (2/2)
But I mustn't 'swear with my horn in your ear.'
Why, in buying that Trumpet you buy all those That Harper, or any Trumpeter, blows At the Queen's Levees or the Lord Mayor's Shows, At least as far as the music goes, Including the wonderful lively sound, Of the Guards' key-bugles all the year round; Come--suppose we call it a pound!
Come,” said the talkative Man of the Pack, ”Before I put my box on my back, For this elegant, useful Conductor of Sound, Come, suppose we call it a pound!
”Only a pound: it's only the price Of hearing a concert once or twice, It's only the fee You might give Mr. C.
And after all not hear his advice, But common prudence would bid you stump it; For, not to enlarge, It's the regular charge At a Fancy Fair for a penny trumpet.
Lord! what's a pound to the blessing of hearing!”
(”A pound's a pound,” said Dame Eleanor Spearing.)
”Try it again! no harm in trying!
A pound's a pound, there's no denying; But think what thousands and thousands of pounds We pay for nothing but hearing sounds: Sounds of Equity, Justice, and Law, Parliamentary jabber and jaw, Pious cant, and moral saw, Hocus-pocus, and Nong-tong-paw, And empty sounds not worth a straw; Why, it costs a guinea, as I'm a sinner, To hear the sounds at a public dinner!
One pound one thrown into the puddle, To listen to Fiddle, Faddle, and Fuddle!
Not to forget the sounds we buy From those who sell their sounds so high, That, unless the managers pitch it strong, To get a signora to warble a song, You must fork out the blunt with a haymaker's p.r.o.ng!
”It's not the thing for me--I know it, To crack my own trumpet up and blow it; But it is the best, and time will show it.
There was Mrs. F.
So very deaf, That she might have worn a percussion cap, And been knocked on the head without hearing it snap, Well, I sold her a horn, and the very next day She heard from her husband at Botany Bay!
Come--eighteen s.h.i.+llings--that's very low, You'll save the money as s.h.i.+llings go, And I never knew so bad a lot, By hearing whether they ring or not!
”Eighteen s.h.i.+llings! it's worth the price, Supposing you're delicate-minded and nice, To have the medical man of your choice, Instead of the one with the strongest voice - Who comes and asks you, how's your liver, And where you ache, and whether you s.h.i.+ver, And as to your nerves, so apt to quiver, As if he was hailing a boat on the river!
And then, with a shout, like Pat in a riot, Tells you to keep yourself perfectly quiet!
”Or a tradesman comes--as tradesmen will - Short and crusty about his bill; Of patience, indeed, a perfect scorner, And because you're deaf and unable to pay, Shouts whatever he has to say, In a vulgar voice, that goes over the way, Down the street and round the corner!
Come--speak your mind--it's 'No' or 'Yes.'”
(”I've half a mind,” said Dame Eleanor S.)
”Try it again--no harm in trying, Of course you hear me, as easy as lying; No pain at all, like a surgical trick, To make you squall, and struggle, and kick, Like Juno, or Rose, Whose ear undergoes Such horrid tugs at membrane and gristle, For being as deaf as yourself to a whistle!
”You may go to surgical chaps if you choose, Who will blow up your tubes like copper flues, Or cut your tonsils right away, As you'd sh.e.l.l out your almonds for Christmas Day; And after all a matter of doubt, Whether you ever would hear the shout Of the little blackguards that bawl about, 'There you go with your tonsils out!'
Why I knew a deaf Welshman, who came from Glamorgan On purpose to try a surgical spell, And paid a guinea, and might as well Have called a monkey into his organ!
For the Aurist only took a mug, And poured in his ear some acoustical drug, That, instead of curing, deafened him rather, As Hamlet's uncle served Hamlet's father!
That's the way with your surgical gentry!
And happy your luck If you don't get stuck Through your liver and lights at a royal entry, Because you never answered the sentry!
”Try it again, dear madam, try it!
Many would sell their beds to buy it.
I warrant you often wake up in the night, Ready to shake to a jelly with fright, And up you must get to strike a light, And down you go, in you know what, Whether the weather is chilly or hot, - That's the way a cold is got, - To see if you heard a noise or not.
”Why, bless you, a woman with organs like yours Is hardly safe to step out of doors!
Just fancy a horse that comes full pelt, But as quiet as if he was shod with felt, Till he rushes against you with all his force, And then I needn't describe of course, While he kicks you about without remorse, How awkward it is to be groomed by a horse!
Or a bullock comes, as mad as King Lear, And you never dream that the brute is near, Till he pokes his horn right into your ear, Whether you like the thing or lump it, - And all for want of buying a trumpet!
”I'm not a female to fret and vex, But if I belonged to the sensitive s.e.x, Exposed to all sorts of indelicate sounds, I wouldn't be deaf for a thousand pounds.
Lord! only think of chucking a copper To Jack or Bob with a timber limb, Who looks as if he was singing a hymn, Instead of a song that's very improper!
Or just suppose in a public place You see a great fellow a-pulling a face, With his staring eyes and his mouth like an O, - And how is a poor deaf lady to know, - The lower orders are up to such games - If he's calling 'Green Peas,' or calling her names?”
(”They're tenpence a peck!” said the deafest of dames.)
”'Tis strange what very strong advising, By word of mouth, or advertising, By chalking on wall, or placarding on vans, With fifty other different plans, The very high pressure, in fact, of pressing, It needs to persuade one to purchase a blessing!
Whether the soothing American Syrup, A Safety Hat, or a Safety Stirrup, - Infallible Pills for the human frame, Or Rowland's O-don't-O (an ominous name)!
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