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174 SONGS, ETC.
MRS. PARTINGTON'S MALEDICTION.
Mr. Walton, it's harsh to say it,
But, as a parent, I can't help wishing
You'd been hang'd before you publish'd your book, To set all the young people a-fishing.
There's my William, the trouble I've had with him,
Surpasses a mortal's bearing. And all through those devilish Angling Books,
The Lord forgive me for swearing,
I thought he were took with the morbus, One day, I did, with his nasty angle,
For, " Oh dear," says he, and burst out in a cry, " Oh, my gut is all got of a tangle."
I vow I've suffered martyrdom,
With all sorts of frights and terrors surrounded, For I never saw him go out of the doors,
But thought he'd come home to me drownded.
And, sure enough, I set out one fine Monday
To visit my married daughter, And there he was standing at Sadler's Wells,
A performing with real water. |
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