The Comic Reciter (1856, Glasgow)/The Gouty Merchant
For other versions of this work, see The Gouty Merchant.
THE GOUTY MERCHANT.
In Broad-Street Buildings, on a winter night,
Snug by his parlour fire, a gouty wight
Sat all alone with one hand rubbing
His leg roll'd up in fleecy hose,
While t'other held beneath his nose
The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing,
He noted all the sales of hops,
Ships, shops, and slops,
Gum, galls, and groceries, ginger, gin,
Tar, tallow, turmeric, turpentine, and tin;—
When lo! a decent personage in black
Enter'd, and most politely said,—
"Your footman, sir, has gone his nightly track
To the King's Head,
And left your door ajar, which I
Observ'd in passing by,
And thought it neighbourly to give you notice."
"Ten thousand thanks—how very few get,
In time of danger,
Such kind attentions from a stranger!
Assuredly that fellow's throat is
Doom'd to a final drop at Newgate;
He know's, too, the unconscionable elf,
That there's no soul at home except myself."
"Indeed!" replied the stranger, looking grave;
"Then he's a double knave:
He knows that rogues and thieves by scores
Nightly beset unguarded doors;
And see how easily might one
Of these domestic foes,
Even beneath your very nose,
Perform his knavish tricks,—
Enter your room as I have done,
Blow out your candles—thus—and thus—
Pocket your silver candlesticks,
And walk off—thus.
So said.—so done—he made no more remark,
Nor waited for replies,
But march'd off with his prize,
Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.
Snug by his parlour fire, a gouty wight
Sat all alone with one hand rubbing
His leg roll'd up in fleecy hose,
While t'other held beneath his nose
The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing,
He noted all the sales of hops,
Ships, shops, and slops,
Gum, galls, and groceries, ginger, gin,
Tar, tallow, turmeric, turpentine, and tin;—
When lo! a decent personage in black
Enter'd, and most politely said,—
"Your footman, sir, has gone his nightly track
To the King's Head,
And left your door ajar, which I
Observ'd in passing by,
And thought it neighbourly to give you notice."
"Ten thousand thanks—how very few get,
In time of danger,
Such kind attentions from a stranger!
Assuredly that fellow's throat is
Doom'd to a final drop at Newgate;
He know's, too, the unconscionable elf,
That there's no soul at home except myself."
"Indeed!" replied the stranger, looking grave;
"Then he's a double knave:
He knows that rogues and thieves by scores
Nightly beset unguarded doors;
And see how easily might one
Of these domestic foes,
Even beneath your very nose,
Perform his knavish tricks,—
Enter your room as I have done,
Blow out your candles—thus—and thus—
Pocket your silver candlesticks,
And walk off—thus.
So said.—so done—he made no more remark,
Nor waited for replies,
But march'd off with his prize,
Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.