I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
As she dropped the judge a curtsey, and he made her a bow.

III

And once again I see that brow no idle rouge is there,
The dubsman's ruthless hand has cropped her once luxurious hair; [3]
She teases hemp in solitude, and there is no one near,
To press her hand within his own, and call for ginger-beer.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the card and heckle in her hand, a-teasing of that tow.

[1: face; porter]
[2: handcuffs]
[3: gaoler's]




THE FAKER'S NEW TOAST [Notes]
[1841]

[By BON GAULTIER ("Nimming Ned") in _Tait's Edinburgh Magazine_]


I

Come, all ye jolly covies, vot faking do admire, [1]
And pledge them British authors who to our line aspire;
Who, if they were not gemmen born, like us had kicked at trade,