The Fudges In England. Letter Viii. From Bob Fudge, Esq., To The Rev. Mortimer O'mulligan Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCBCDDDDD DDEFEFGHGHDDBDBIIJJ KKDDLLMMKK NNDDDDDDDDDKKKKLOLO MMPQPPQQQQQRR SQSQBBQQ TQBQUUOOQQ QQJJQQQQQDV DDQQBBVVFQQF WWGGVV A QQ DDTuesday evening | A |
- | |
I much regret dear Reverend Sir | B |
I could not come to to meet you | C |
But this curst gout won't let me stir | B |
Even now I but by proxy greet you | C |
As this vile scrawl whate'er its sense is | D |
Owes all to an amanuensis | D |
Most other scourges of disease | D |
Reduce men to extremities | D |
But gout won't leave one even these | D |
- | |
From all my sister writes I see | D |
That you and I will quite agree | D |
I'm a plain man who speak the truth | E |
And trust you'll think me not uncivil | F |
When I declare that from my youth | E |
I've wisht your country at the devil | F |
Nor can I doubt indeed from all | G |
I've heard of your high patriot fame | H |
From every word your lips let fall | G |
That you most truly wish the same | H |
It plagues one's life out thirty years | D |
Have I had dinning in my ears | D |
Ireland wants this and that and t'other | B |
And to this hour one nothing hears | D |
But the same vile eternal bother | B |
While of those countless things she wanted | I |
Thank God but little has been granted | I |
And even that little if we're men | J |
And Britons we'll have back again | J |
- | |
I really think that Catholic question | K |
Was what brought on my indigestion | K |
And still each year as Popery's curse | D |
Has gathered round us I've got worse | D |
Till even my pint of port a day | L |
Can't keep the Pope and bile away | L |
And whereas till the Catholic bill | M |
I never wanted draught or pill | M |
The settling of that cursed question | K |
Has quite unsettled my digestion | K |
- | |
Look what has happened since the Elect | N |
Of all the bores of every sect | N |
The chosen triers of men's patience | D |
From all the Three Denominations | D |
Let loose upon us even Quakers | D |
Turned into speechers and lawmakers | D |
Who'll move no question stiff rumpt elves | D |
Till first the Spirit moves themselves | D |
And whose shrill Yeas and Nays in chorus | D |
Conquering our Ayes and Noes sonorous | D |
Will soon to death's own slumber snore us | D |
Then too those Jews I really sicken | K |
To think of such abomination | K |
Fellows who won't eat ham with chicken | K |
To legislate for this great nation | K |
Depend upon't when once they've sway | L |
With rich old Goldsmid at the head o' them | O |
The Excise laws will be done away | L |
And Circumcise ones past instead o' them | O |
- | |
In short dear sir look where one will | M |
Things all go on so devilish ill | M |
That 'pon my soul I rather fear | P |
Our reverend Rector may be right | Q |
Who tells me the Millennium's near | P |
Nay swears he knows the very year | P |
And regulates his leases by 't | Q |
Meaning their terms should end no doubt | Q |
Before the world's own lease is out | Q |
He thinks too that the whole thing's ended | Q |
So much more soon than was intended | Q |
Purely to scourge those men of sin | R |
Who brought the accurst Reform Bill in | R |
- | |
However let's not yet despair | S |
Tho' Toryism's eclipst at present | Q |
And like myself in this old chair | S |
Sits in a state by no means pleasant | Q |
Feet crippled hands in luckless hour | B |
Disabled of their grasping power | B |
And all that rampant glee which revelled | Q |
In this world's sweets be dulled be deviled | Q |
- | |
Yet tho' condemned to frisk no more | T |
And both in Chair of Penance set | Q |
There's something tells me all's not o'er | B |
With Toryism or Bobby yet | Q |
That tho' between us I allow | U |
We've not a leg to stand on now | U |
Tho' curst Reform and colchicum | O |
Have made us both look deuced glum | O |
Yet still in spite of Grote and Gout | Q |
Again we'll shine triumphant out | Q |
- | |
Yes back again shall come egad | Q |
Our turn for sport my reverend lad | Q |
And then O'Mulligan oh then | J |
When mounted on our nags again | J |
You on your high flown Rosinante | Q |
Bedizened out like Show Gallantee | Q |
Glitter great from substance scanty | Q |
While I Bob Fudge Esquire shall ride | Q |
Your faithful Sancho by your side | Q |
Then talk of tilts and tournaments | D |
Dam'me we'll | V |
- | |
- | |
- | |
'Squire Fudge's clerk presents | D |
To Reverend Sir his compliments | D |
Is grieved to say an accident | Q |
Has just occurred which will prevent | Q |
The Squire tho' now a little better | B |
From finishing this present letter | B |
Just when he'd got to Dam'me we'll | V |
His Honor full of martial zeal | V |
Graspt at his crutch but not being able | F |
To keep his balance or his hold | Q |
Tumbled both self and crutch and rolled | Q |
Like ball and bat beneath the table | F |
- | |
All's safe the table chair and crutch | W |
Nothing thank God is broken much | W |
But the Squire's head which in the fall | G |
Got bumped considerably that's all | G |
At this no great alarm we feel | V |
As the Squire's head can bear a deal | V |
- | |
Wednesday morning | A |
- | |
Squire much the same head rather light | Q |
Raved about Barbers' Wigs all night | Q |
- | |
Our housekeeper old Mrs Griggs | D |
Suspects that he meant barbarous Whigs | D |
Thomas Moore
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