Burlesques William Makepeace Thackeray

95
And thirty score of British bows kept twanging to the chorus!
O knights, my noble ancestors! and shall I never hear
Saint Willibald for Bareacres through battle ringing clear?
I'd cut me off this strong right hand a single hour to ride,
And strike a blow for Bareacres, my fathers, at your side!
"Dash down, dash down, yon Mandolin, beloved sister mine!
Those blushing lips may never sing the glories of our line:
Our ancient castles echo to the clumsy feet of churls,
The spinning Jenny houses in the mansion of our Earls.
Sing not, sing not, my Angeline! in days so base and vile,
'Twere sinful to be happy, 'twere sacrilege to smile.
I'll hie me to my lonely hall, and by its cheerless hob
I'll muse on other days, and wish—and wish I were.—A SNOB."
"All young Hengland, I'm told, considers the poim bewtifle. They're always writing about
battleaxis and shivvlery, these young chaps; but the ideer of Southdown in a shoot of armer,
and his cuttin hoff his 'strong right hand,' is rayther too good; the feller is about 5 fit hi,—as
ricketty as a babby, with a vaist like a gal; and though he may have the art and curridge of a
Bengal tyger, I'd back my smallest cab-boy to lick him,—that is, if I AD a cab-boy. But io!
MY cab-days is over.
"Be still my hagnizing Art! I now am about to hunfoald the dark payges of the Istry of my
life!"
"My friends! you've seen me ither2 in the full kerear of Fortn, prawsprus but not hover
prowd of my prawsperraty; not dizzy though mounted on the haypix of Good Luck—
feasting hall the great (like the Good Old Henglish Gent in the song, which he has been my
moddle and igsample through life), but not forgitting the small—No, my beayvior to my
granmother at Healing shows that. I bot her a new donkey cart (what the French call a cartblansh)
and a handsome set of peggs for anging up her linning, and treated Huncle Bill to a
new shoot of close, which he ordered in St. Jeames's Street, much to the estonishment of
my Snyder there, namely an olliffgreen velvyteen jackit and smalclose, and a crimsn plush
weskoat with glas-buttns. These pints of genarawsaty in my disposishn I never should have
eluded to, but to show that I am naturally of a noble sort, and have that kind of galliant
carridge which is equel to either good or bad forting.
"What was the substns of my last chapter? In that everythink was prepayred for my
marridge—the consent of the parents of my Hangelina was gaynd, the lovely gal herself
was ready (as I thought) to be led to Himing's halter—the trooso was hordered—the
wedding dressis were being phitted hon—a weddinkake weighing half a tunn was a gettn