Part 1 — AFTER DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

ON Christmas day I dined with Brown. (Oh the dinner was fine to see!) I drove to his house, right merrily down, To a western square of London town. (And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!) We dined off turkey and Christmas beef: (Oh the dinner was fine to see!) My anguish is sore and my comfort's brief, And nought but blue pills can ease my grief, (As I moan and I cry, Woe's me!) We gorged plum-pudding and hot mince pies, (Oh the dinner was fine to see!) And other nameless atrocities, The weight of which on my—bosom lies. (And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!) We drank dry Clicquot and rare old port, (Oh the dinner was fine to see!) And I pledged my host for a right good sort In bumpers of both, for I never thought (I should moan and cry, Woe's me!) But I woke next day with a fearful head, (Oh that dinner was fine to see!) And on my chest is a weight like lead, And I frequently wish that I were dead, (And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!) And as for Brown—why the truth to tell— (Oh that dinner was fine to see!) I hate him now with the hate of hell, Though before I loved him passing well, (And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!) Anonymous.

THE auld wife sat at her ivied door (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese), A thing she had frequently done before, And her spectacles lay on her apron'd knees. The piper he piped on the hill-top high (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese), Till the cow said "I die," and the goose ask'd "Why?" And the dog said nothing, but search'd for fleas. The farmer he strode through the square farmyard (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese); His last brew of ale was a trifle hard— The connection of which with the plot one sees. The farmer's daughter had frank blue eyes (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese); She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies, As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas. The farmer's daughter hath ripe red lips (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese); If you try to approach her, away she skips Over tables and chairs with apparent ease. The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese), And I met with a ballad, I can't say where, Which wholly consisted of lines like these.