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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 69 pages of information about Bab Ballads and Savoy Songs.

  “You have two hundred ‘thou’ or more,”
    Said I.  “You’ll waste it, lose it, lend it. 
  Come, take my furnished second floor,
    I’ll gladly show you how to spend it.”

  But will it be believed that he,
    With grin upon his face of poppy,
  Declined my aid, while thanking me
    For what he called my “philanthroppy?”

  Some blind, suspicious fools rejoice
    In doubting friends who wouldn’t harm them;
  They will not hear the charmer’s voice,
    However wisely he may charm them.

  I showed him that his coat, all dust,
    Top boots and cords provoked compassion,
  And proved that men of station must
    Conform to the decrees of fashion.

  I showed him where to buy his hat,
    To coat him, trouser him, and boot him;
  But no—­he wouldn’t hear of that—­
    “He didn’t think the style would suit him!”

  I offered him a country seat,
    And made no end of an oration;
  I made it certainly complete,
    And introduced the deputation.

  But no—­the clown my prospects blights—­
    (The worth of birth it surely teaches!)
  “Why should I want to spend my nights
    In Parliament, a-making speeches?

  “I haven’t never been to school—­
    I ain’t had not no eddication—­
  And I should surely be a fool
    To publish that to all the nation!”

  I offered him a trotting horse—­
    No hack had ever trotted faster—­
  I also offered him, of course,
    A rare and curious “old Master.”

  I offered to procure him weeds—­
    Wines fit for one in his position—­
  But, though an ass in all his deeds,
    He’d learnt the meaning of “commission.”

  He called me “thief” the other day,
    And daily from his door he thrusts me;
  Much more of this, and soon I may
    Begin to think that Brown mistrusts me.

  So deaf to all sound Reason’s rule
    This poor uneducated clown is,
  You cannot fancy what a fool
    Poor rich uneducated Brown is.

THE THREE KINGS OF CHICKERABOO.

  There were three niggers of Chickeraboo—­
    Pacifico, Bang-Bang, Popchop—­who
  Exclaimed, one terribly sultry day,
    “Oh, let’s be kings in a humble way.”

  The first was a highly-accomplished “bones,”
    The next elicited banjo tones,
  The third was a quiet, retiring chap,
    Who danced an excellent break-down “flap.”

  “We niggers,” said they, “have formed a plan
  By which, whenever we like, we can
  Extemporize islands near the beach,
  And then we’ll collar an island each.

  “Three casks, from somebody else’s stores,
  Shall rep-per-esent our island shores,
  Their sides the ocean wide shall lave,
  Their heads just topping the briny wave.

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