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Title: Memorabilia Of Last Week
Author: Thomas Moore [
More Titles by Moore]
MONDAY, MARCH 13, 1826.
The Budget--quite charming and witty--no hearing,
For plaudits and laughs, the good things that were in it;--
Great comfort to find, tho' the speech isn't _cheering_,
That all its gay auditors _were_ every minute.
What, _still_ more prosperity!--mercy upon us,
"This boy'll be the death of me"--oft as, already,
Such smooth Budgeteers have genteelly undone us,
For _Ruin made easy_ there's no one like Freddy.
TUESDAY.
Much grave apprehension exprest by the Peers,
Lest--calling to life the old Peachums and Lockitts--
The large stock of gold we're to have in three years,
Should all find its way into highwaymen's pockets![1]
WEDNESDAY.
Little doing--for sacred, oh Wednesday, thou art
To the seven-o'-clock joys of full many a table--
When _the Members_ all meet, to make much of that part,
With which they so rashly fell out in the Fable.
It appeared, tho', to-night, that--as church-wardens yearly,
Eat up a small baby--those cormorant sinners.
The Bankrupt Commissioners, _bolt_ very nearly
A moderate-sized bankrupt, _tout chaud_, for their dinners![2]
_Nota bene_--a rumor to-day, in the city,
"Mr. Robinson just has resigned"--what a pity!
The Bulls and the Bears all fell a sobbing,
When they heard of the fate of poor Cock _Robin_:
While thus, to the nursery tune, so pretty,
A murmuring _Stock_-dove breathed her ditty:--
Alas, poor _Robin_, he crowed as long
And as sweet as a prosperous Cock could crow;
But his _note_ was _small_ and the _gold_-finch's song
Was a pitch too high for Robin to go.
Who'll make his shroud?
"I," said the Bank, "tho' he played me a prank,
"While I have a rag, poor _Rob_ shall be rolled in't,
"With many a pound I'll paper him round,
"Like a plump rouleau--_without_ the gold in it."
NOTES:
[1] "Another objection to a metallic currency was, that it produced a greater number of highway robberies."--_Debate in the Lords_.
[2] Mr. Abercromby's statement of the enormous tavern bills of the Commissioners of Bankrupts.
[The end]
Thomas Moore's poem: Memorabilia Of Last Week
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