The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

452
No more with a consenting brief
Shall I politely bow my head;
Where shall I run to hide my grief?
Alas! my only client's dead.
Imagination's magic power
Brings back, as clear, as clear as can be,
The spot, the day, the very hour,
When first I sign'd my maiden plea.
In the Exchequer's hindmost row
I sat, and some one touched my head,
He tendered ten-and-six, but oh!
That only client now is dead.
In vain I try to sing--I'm hoarse:
In vain I try to play the flute,
A phantom seems to flit across--
It is the ghost of a compute.
I try to read,--but all in vain;
My chamber listlessly I tread;
Be still, my heart; throb less, my brain;
Ho! ho! my only client's dead.
I think I hear a double knock:
I did--alas! it is a dun.
Tailor--avaunt! my sense you shock;
He's dead! you know I had but one.
What's this they thrust into my hand?
A bill returned!--ten pounds for bread!
My butcher's got a large demand;
I'm mad! my only client's dead.
LOVE ON THE OCEAN.
PUNCH.
They met, 't was in a storm