Lines on the Late MR. THOMAS CRAVEN. Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust— The friend we had but yesterday; His spirit to the unknown land Hath fled away. Ah! death’s strong key hath turned the lock, And closed again its ponderous door, That ne’er for him shall ope again— Ah, nevermore! Now pity swells the tide of love, And rolls through all our bosoms deep, For we have lost a friend indeed; And thus we weep. . . . . . . . ’Twas his to learn in Nature’s school To love his fellow-creatures dear; His bounty fed the starving poor From year to year. But thou, pale moon, unclouded beam, And O! ye stars, shine doubly bright, And light him safe across the lake To endless light! p. 59Gooise an’ Giblet Pie. p. 59 A Kersmas song I’ll sing, mi lads, If ye’ll bud hearken me; An incident i’ Kersmas time, I’ eighteen sixty-three; Whithaht a stypher i’ the world— I’d scorn to tell a lie— I dinéd wi a gentleman O’ gooise an’ giblet pie. I’ve been i’ lots o’ feeds, mi lads, An’ hed some rare tucks-aght; Blood-puddin days with killin’ pigs, Minch pies an’ thumpin’ tarts; But I wired in, an’ reight an’ all, An’ supp’d when I wor dry, Fer I wor dinin’ wi’ a gentleman O’ gooise an’ giblet pie. I hardly knew what ail’d ma, lads, I felt so fearful prahd; Mi ears pricked up, mi collar rahse, T’ards a hawf-a-yard; Mi chest stood aght, mi charley in, Like horns stuck aght mi tie; Fer I dinéd wi’ a gentleman O’ gooise an’ giblet pie. I often think o’ t’feed, mi lads, When t’ gentleman I meet; Bud nauther on us speiks a word Abaht that glorious neet; In fact, I hardly can misel, I feel so fearful shy; Fer I ate a deal o’ t’rosted gooise, An’ warm’d his giblet pie. p. 60The Grand Old Man. p. 60 I sing of a statesman, a statesman of worth, The grandest old statesman there is upon earth; When his axe is well sharpened we all must agree, He can level a nation as well as a tree. He can trundle such words from his serpent-like tongue As fairly bewilder both old men and young;
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