JACK SURPRISED ONCE in the WAY

JACK SURPRISED ONCE IN THE WAY

Now, as Jack was a lion, and hero of rhymes,

 His exploit very soon made a noise in the "Times;"

          All over the west

          He was *fêted*, caressed,

 And to dinners and *soirees* eternally pressed:

 Though't is true Giants did n't move much in society,

 And at "twigging" were slow,

 Yet they could n't but know

 Of a thing that was matter of such notoriety.


 Your Giants were famous for *esprit de corps*;

 And a huge one, whose name was O'Blunderbore,

 From the Emerald Isle, who had waded o'er,

 Revenge, "by the pow'rs!" on our hero swore.

Sound beneath a forest oak

          Was a beardless warrior dozing,

          By a babbling rill, that woke

          Echo—not the youth reposing.

          What a chance for lady loves

          Now to win a "pair of gloves!"

"Wake, champion, wake, be off, be off;

 Heard'st thou not that earthquake cough!

 That floundering splash,

 That thundering crash?

 Awake!—oh, no,

            It is no go!"

    So sang a little woodland fairy;

            'T was O'Blunderbore coming

    And the blackguard was humming

    The tune of "Paddy Carey."

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Beholding the sleeper,

 He open'd each peeper

 To about the size of the crown of your hat;

 "Oh, oh!" says he,

              "Is it clear I see

 Hallo! ye young spalpeen, come out o' that."


             So he took him up

             As ye mote a pup,

 Or an impudent varlet about to "pop" him:

 "Wake up, ye young baste;

             What's this round your waist?

 Och! murder! "—I wonder he did n't drop him.


 He might, to be sure, have exclaimed "Oh, Law!"

 But then he preferred his own *patois*;

 And "Murder!" though coarse, was expressive, no doubt,

 Inasmuch as the murder was certainly out.


 He had pounced upon Jack,

           In his cosy bivouack,

 And so he made off with him over his back.

V.

         Still was Jack in slumber sunk;

         Was he Mesmerised or drunk?


  I know not in sooth, but he did not awake

  Till, borne through a coppice of briar and brake,

  He was roused by the brambles that tore his skin,

  Then he woke up and found what a mess he was in

  He spoke not a word that his fear might shew,

  But said to himself—"What a precious go!"

VI.

          Whither was the hero bound,

          Napping by the Ogre caught?

          Unto Cambrian Taffy's ground

          Where adventures fresh he sought.

They gained the Giant's castle hall,

      Which seemed a sort of Guy's museum;

  With skulls and bones 'twas crowded all—

      You would have blessed yourself to see 'em.


  The larder was stored with human hearts,

  Quarters, and limbs, and other parts,—

       A grisly sight to see;

  There Jack the cannibal monster led,


  "I lave you there, my lad," he said,

      "To larn anatomy!—

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I'm partial to this kind of mate,

     And hearts with salt and spice to ate

     Is just what plases me;

     I mane to night on yours to sup,

     Stay here until you 're aten up

     He spoke, and turned the key.


 "A pretty business this!" quoth Jack,

      When he was left alone;

 "Old Paddy Whack,

      I say! come back—

 I wonder where he's gone?"

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In ghastly moans and sounds of wail,

  The castle's cells replied;

  Jack, whose high spirits ne'er could quail,

  Whistled like blackbird in the vale,

  And, "Bravo, Weber!" cried.


  When, lo! a dismal voice, in verse,

  This pleasant warning did rehearse:—


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"Haste!" quoth the hero, "yes, but how?

  They come, the brutes!—I hear them now.'

  He flew to the window with mickle speed,

  There was the pretty pair indeed,

  Arm-in-arm in the court below,

  O'Blunderbore and his brother O.


  "Now then," thought Jack, "I plainly see

  I 'm booked for death or liberty;—

  Hallo! those cords are 'the jockeys for me.'

Deft at noosing the speckled trout,

     So hath he caught each ill-favoured lout:

     He hath tethered the ropes to a rafter tight,

     And he tugs and he pulls with all his might,

     "Pully-oi! Pully-oi!" till each Yahoo

     In the face is black and blue;

 Till each Paddy Whack

 Is blue and black;

 "Now, I think you're done *brown*," said courageous Jack.

 Down the tight rope he slides,

 And his good sword hides

 In the hearts of the monsters up to the hilt;

 So he settled them each:

 O'Blunderbore's speech,

 Ere he gave up the ghost was, "Och, murder, I'm kilt!"

The dungeons are burst and the captives freed;

 Three princesses were among them found—

     Very beautiful indeed;

 Their lily white hands were behind them bound:

     They were dangling in the air,

 Strung up to a hook by their dear "back hair."


 Their stomachs too weak

 On bubble and squeak,

 From their slaughtered lords prepared, to dine

            (A delicate rarity);

 With horrid barbarity,

 The Giants had hung them up there to pine.

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Jack, the monsters having "licked,"

 Had, of course, their pockets picked,

 And their keys and eke their riches

 Had abstracted from their breeches.


 "Ladies," he said, with a Chesterfield's ease,

 Permit me, I pray you, to present you with these,"

 And he placed in their hands the coin and the keys:

 "So long having swung,

 By your poor tresses hung,

 Sure your nerves are unhinged though yourselves are unstrung;

           To make you amends,

 Take these few odds and ends,

 This nice little castle, I mean, and its wealth;

           And I 've only to say,

 That I hope that you may

 For the future enjoy the most excellent health."


 Said the ladies—"Oh, thank you!—expressions we lack "—

 "Don't mention it pray," said the complaisant Jack.

Jack knelt and kissed the snow-white hands

          Of the lovely ladies three;

 Oh! who these matters that understands

          But thinks, "would that I'd been he! "

 Then he bids them adieu; "Au revoir," they cry.

 "Take care of yourselves," he exclaims, "good bye!"

Away, like Bonaparte in chase,

     O'er mount and moor goes Jack;

 With his trusty sword before his face,

     And its scabbard behind his back.


          Away he goes,

          And follows his nose;

 No wonder, then, that at close of day,

          He found himself out

          In his whereabout;—


 "Dash my buttons," he cried, "I have lost my way

 Before him stretched a lonely vale—

 Just the place for robbing the mail

 Ere that conveyance went by "rail"—


 On either side a mount of granite

 Outfaced indignant star and planet;

 Its thunder-braving head and shoulders,

 And threatening crags, and monstrous boulders,

     Ten times as high as the cliffs at Brighton,

     Uprearing like a "bumptious" Titan,

 Very imposing to beholders.

 Now the red sun went darkly down,

 More gloomy grew the mountains' frown,

 And all around waxed deeper brown,—

 Jack's visage deeper blue;

 Said he, "I guess I'm in a fix,"—

 Using a phrase of Mr. Slick's,—

 "What *on* earth shall I do?"

He wandered about till late at night,

 At last he made for a distant light;

 "Here's a gentleman's mansion," thought Jack, "all right."

          He knocked at the wicket,

          Crying, "That's the ticket!"

 When lo! the portal open flew,

          And a monster came out,

          Enormously stout

 And of stature tremendous, with heads for two.


          Jack was rather alarmed,

          But the Giant was charmed,

 He declared with both tongues, the young hero to see:

          "What a double-tongued speech!

          But you wo n't overreach

 *Me*" thought Jack; as the Giant said—"Walk in, to tea."

 But he saw that to fly

 Would be quite "all his eye,"

           He could n't, and so it was useless to try;

 So he bowed, and complied with the monster's "walk in!"

 With a sort of a kind of hysterical grin.


 Now this Giant, you know, was a Welshman, *and so*,

 'T was by stealth he indulged in each mischievous "lark

          His name was Ap Morgan,

          He had a large organ

 Of "secretiveness," wherefore he killed in the dark.

 "He was sorry that Jack was benighted," he said,

 "Might he fenture to peg he'd accept of a ped?"

And he then led the way,

          All smiling and gay,

 To the couch where his guest might rest his head;

 And he bade him good night, politely quite,

 Jack answered—"I wish you a very good night."

Though his eyes were heavy, and legs did ache,

 Jack was far too wide awake

 To trust himself to the arms of sleep;—

 I mean to say he was much too deep.


 Stumping, through the midnight gloom,

 Up and down in the neighbouring room,

 Like a pavior's rammer, Ap Morgan goes.


 "I shouldn't much like him to tread on my toes!"

 Thought Jack as he listened with mind perplexed;—

 "I wonder what he's up to next?"

Short was our hero's marvelling;

          For, deeming him in slumber locked,

 The monstrous oaf began to sing:

          Gracious, how the timbers rocked!

                 From double throat

                 He poured each note,

           So his voice was a species of double bass,

                   Slightly hoarse,

 Rather coarse,

And decidedly wanting a little in grace:

  A circumstance which unluckily smashes

  A comparison I was about to make

  Between it and the great Lablache's,—

       Just for an allusion's sake.


  Thus warbled the gigantic host,

  To the well-known air of "Giles Scroggins' Ghost:


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"Ha! say you so,"

  Thought Jack; "oh, oh! "

  And, getting out of bed,

  He found a log;—

  "Whack that, old Gog!

  He whispered, "in my stead."

In steals the Giant, crafty old fox!

  His buskins he'd doffed, and he walked in his socks,

  And he fetches the bed some tremendous knocks

  With his great big mace,

             I' th' identical place

  Where Jack's wooden substitute quietly lay;

  And, chuckling as he went away,

  He said to himself, "How. Griffith Ap Jones

  Will laugh when he hears that I've broken his bones!

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The morning shone brightly, all nature was gay;

 And the Giant at breakfast was pegging away:

 On pantomime rolls all so fiercely fed he,

 And he ate hasty-pudding along with his tea.


 Oh, why starts the monster in terror and fright?

 Why gapes and why stares he when Jack meets his sight?

 Why mutters he wildly, o'ercome with dismay,

 "How long have ghosts taken to walking by day?"

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"Pless us!" he cried, "it can't be;—no! "

 "'Tis I," said Jack, "old fellow, though."

 "How slept you?" asked the monster gruff.

 "Toi lol," he answered;—"well enough:


 About twelve, or one, I awoke with a rat,—

 At least, I fancied it was that,—

 Which fetched me with its tail a ' whop; '

 But I went off again as sound as a top."

Jack's feet the Giant did n't scan,

 Because he was a Pagan man;

 And knew no more than a mining lad

 What kind of a foot Apollyon had;


 But he thought to himself, with a puzzled brow,

 "Well, you're a rum one, any how."

 Jack took a chair, and set to work,—

 Oh! but he ate like a famished Turk;


 In sooth it was astounding quite,

 How he put the pudding out of sight.

 Thought the Giant, "What an appetite!"

 He had buttoned his coat together

 O'er a capacious bag of leather,


 And all the pudding he could n't swallow

 He craftily slipped into its hollow.

When breakfast was finished, he said, "Old brick,

 See here; I 'll show you a crafty trick;

 You dare not try it for your life:"

 And he ripped up the bag with a table-knife.


 Squash! tumbled the smoking mess on the floor,

 But Jack was no worse than he was before.


 "Odds splutter hur nails!" swore the monster Welch,

 And he gashed his belly with fearful squelch;

           Let the daylight in

           Through the hole in his skin,—

 The daylight in and the pudding out,

 With twenty gallons of blood about;

 And his soul with a terrific "Oh!"

 Indignant sought the shades below.

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