A PARODY

“’Twas in the middle of the night, To sleep Young William tried; When Mary’s Ghost came stealing in, And stood at his bed-side.” “O William dear! O William dear! My rest eternal ceases; Alas! my everlasting peace, Is broken into pieces.” “I thought the last of all my cares, Would end with my last minute; But though I went to my long home, I did not stay long in it.” “The body-snatchers they have come, And made a snatch at me; It’s very hard them kind of men, Won’t let a body be.” You thought that I was buried deep, Quite decent to the eye; With roses growing o’er my grave, In Dr-mm-nd’s Rosary. But William dear, my rest was short, It was not very chary; Them boney-men, they did march in, And bone away your Mary. I wish you’d speak to Mr. D. Who owes the patent ground; And tell him that his patent graves, Are neither safe nor sound. I vow that his new land-of-tombs, Made so genteel and pretty; Is not a bit more safer than, Old Tombland in the City. Alas! it is a joint-stock-thing, The shares are down so low; E’re long they’ll break up all the banks, Of Dr-mm-nd, Son & Co. My tender body was pack’d-up, And in a sack did go; To be a little body at, Sir Dalley’s great depôt. I was cut up as Stratford was, And Y-ll-ly from Carrow; Came stealing in—and stole away, My brains and spinal-marrow. I vow’d that you should have my hand, But fate gives us denial; You’ll find it there at Doctor Wr-ght’s, In spirits and a phial. How very hard my William dear,— How very hard the loss is; That both my legs should have to walk, The Surgery at Cr-ss’s. And that my arms,—the tender arms, That now in death do part us; Should both of them be taken down, To dwell at Doctor C-rt-r’s. As for my eyes,—the lovely eyes, That once beam’d from their sockets; You’ll find them both at Mr. H-ll’s, In his large breeches-pockets. My very skull was lent to St-rk, Without any apology; And all my lumps and bumps he found, That are in Craniology. But when my skull came back from St-rk, That clever organ-finder; It was found out that Cr-wc—r had, Pluck’d out—every grinder. As for my feet,—the little feet, You used to call so pretty; There’s one I know at the Town-close, The t’other’s in the city. The Pupils dear, them sweet young men, I vow they wrote on vellum; A letter to the Doctors big, And got my cerebellum. As for my hair—the auburn hair, You used to love so well; Alas! it’s gone to deck the head, Of lovely Mrs. B-ll. My very liver and my lungs, E’en them were not forgot; But given to them cruel men, Long J-hns-n and Page Sc-tt. I thought I should have lost a rib, And many other stores; But Doctor Ev-ns took instead, A rib from Brazen-doors. To say where my soft kidneys are, The Newspapers will tell; Therefore you need not ring at night, At “Doctor Engl-nd’s Bell.” To boil me down—did Doctor Pure, Affirm ’twould be a sin; And then Old J-rv-s wink’d his eye, And swore he’d tan my skin. I can’t tell where my head is gone, But M-lls and N-ch-ls can; Also my trunk which is to go, By M-n-ym-nt’s night-van. I wish you’d go to Mr. M. And save me such a ride; “I don’t half like the outside place, They’ve took for my inside.” “The cock it crows—I must be gone! My William we must part! But I’ll be yours in death—altho’ Sweet N-rg-te has my heart.” “Don’t go to weep upon my grave, And think that there I be; They hav’n’t left an atom there, Of my anatomie.”