Cinderella
THERE once was a Baron who dwelt at the top
Of a rock by the Rhine,
Whence, whene’er he’d incline,
Upon travellers that way he was ready to drop,
And lighten their purses—
Which brought many curses
On the head of the Baron of Snitherumpopp
For a practice, which now
We shouldn’t allow,
And, in fact, the police would immediately stop.
Hard by where the Bar(i)on *
These strange tricks did carry on
There lived a young Prince, who by flourish of clarion
Proclaimed unto all, both great folks and small,
He intended to give a great banquet and ball—
Or, to use modern language, a spread and a hop:—
’T was good news for the daughters of Snitherumpopp.
For the Baron, you see, had daughters three,
The two eldest as ugly as ugly can be,
And prouder than Lucifer—(no! I must scratch
That through. For they’d waited so long for a catch,
It’s not true that their pride was above any match)—
But the youngest was fair, with beautiful hair;
Her sisters looked on her with rage and despair;
And that they’d have no chance they declared past a doubt,
If that “forward young minx” was allowed to “come out.”
* At this new mode of spelling the word don’t feel shy—
I have seen a Baron with more than one eye!
So for fear of her beauty their lovers bewitching,
They compelled her to stop
In that wretched cook’s-shop
Which is—by its own denizens—christened the “kitching.”
In clothes very mean they compelled her to clean
Pots, kettles, and pans—implements de cuisine.
In her pa’s worn-out gloves
She polished the stoves,
Poker, shovel, and tongs, and whatever belongs
To the role of what Stubbs * calls “say po-vers onfongs,”
The General Servants—or Maids-of-All-Work,
Though this last is a name they seem anxious to shirk,
Or at least as a rule in advertisements burke.
Though far from robust, she’d to sweep and to dust,
And to see dinner cooked, when skewered rightly or trussed,
(Though dining herself off a scrap and a crust,
While if aught turned out wrong by her pa she was cussed)
Not to mention, en passant, the fact that she must
Chairs and tables adjust; and, from last unto fust,
See that all things were clean from dirt, mildew, or rust.
(For this last she used paper, which is, unless memory
Deserts this poor brain altogether, called Emery.)
[N.B. Any doubt on the point to enlighten,
I don’t mean the actor, although he’s a bright ’un.]
When the ball was announced, off the two sisters bounced
To send their best dresses to have them re-flounced,
And soon became clawers from various drawers
Of fans, flowers, gloves (by the shopman styled “strawers”),
Trimmings, ribbons, and laces, to add to the graces
Of their very poor forms and their very poor faces.
* Of scenes continental Poor Stubbs has been viewer
But once, though he speaks of his trip as “mong two-er.”
I must own that they were (since plain speaking de rigueur ’s) What tradesmen denominate “marked in plain figures!”
One routs out a scarf, one contrives to unearth a
Compound of tulle And ribbons which you ’ll
Hear described by your sister or wife as a Bertha.
The eldest’s inclined to declare for a tarlatane,
Either an emerald green or a scarlet ’un,
With a silk under-petticoat known as a slip;
While the second decides double skirts are “the tip.”
(What “the tip” means you know, though one can’t see the point of it. I’d not use the slang, save that rhyme makes a joint of it.)
At last draws near the festal day!
The ball’s to last three nights, they say.
What a hustle and bustle—oh, dear! what a fuss ’ll
Be made when the ball-dresses whisper and rustle,
I ’ll warrant that scuffle
And noise quite enough ’ll
Be made when along the oak floors their feet shuffle,
While the band are all playing as hard as they ‘re able
The popular waltz of the season—the “Mabel.”
While her unprepossessing
Two sisters are dressing,
Cinderella to do all the work, I’m afraid, is made,
Not only of general servant, but lady’s maid.
She lays out the robes by which each so much store sets,
Takes things down to air,
Cleans their shoes, curls their hair,
Pins their sleeves, hooks their dresses, and laces their corsets.
And now they’re both drest,—each, looking her best,
Is prepared to become at the Prince’s a guest.
They ‘re gone! And yet neither her thanks has conveyed
To poor Cinderella for lending her aid;
They ‘ve not wished her good-night—they have not even kist her, Though for once they ‘ve allowed her to act as assister.
She could not but feel it, her heart being tender,
So she sat down and had a good cry on the fender;
When—as good Mrs. Brown,
Of world-wide renown,
Whose figures of speech may, without any bosh,
Be described as “the things that come home from the wash,”
Says—“All of a suddin”
The room was a flood in
Of light! Cinderella, surprised, said, “Oh, Jim’ni!
The soot must have caught and set fire to the chimney!
But no! t’ was not so!
The beautiful glow
Was not due to an accident—quite the contrairy—
Altogether another affair,—and a fairy!
Cinderella had got what now-a-day not
Very often has fallen to any one’s lot,
As I fancy you can’t but instantly grant
When you learn it’s a fairy by way of an aunt.
This benevolent fay has called in, in this way
To hear what her favourite niece has to say,
And to send her, if any desire she evinces
To share in the fun, to the ball at the Prince’s.
When she said, “Will you go?” she didn’t say, “No!”
But answered, “Just shouldn’t I, aunt!” adding, “Oh!
How I wish I’d a ball-dress—one fit for a belle—a
White muslin with tucks!” “So you shall, Cinderella.
But first we must get you an equipage proper.
You’ll find some black-beetles down there by the copper;
There’s a rat in the trap, and some mice, too, mayhap,
And there’s also a lizard, a little green chap,
On the grass-plot before the scullery door.
Bring them here, there’s a dear. Stay, I want one thing more—
A pumpkin! And yonder I see, if my eyes
Don’t deceive me, a pumpkin exactly the size!”
Cinderella soon sought the things out, and brought
To her aunt, who, by magic as rapid as thought,
Turned the beetles to pages, and made of the rat
A coachman, all powder, bouquet, and laced hat.
As for the mice, they became in a trice
Eight cream-coloured galloways, worth any price;
And the lizard—she made that most active of friskers
A footman!—with livery, calves, and big whiskers.
“And now, dear,” said she,
“For a coach we must see!
Now pumpkins—some fry ’em, some boil ’em, some stew ’em,
But no one before ever made one a brougham.” *