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“Who are you, you queer little crew?”
Said Hop o’ my Thumb, “Madam, pray how d’ ye do?
* The poet who sighed (he’s depicted as thin)
The warmest of welcomes to find at an inn
Might equal in panting
The sighs of a Banting
To learn that these inns are prepared, in kind thrift,
To give to those guests who are poorest—a lift!
We people so small
Have come for a call:
We want a night’s lodging and supper, that’s all!”
“Alas!” said the dame,
“I can’t promise that same,
Though your lonely condition to pity lays claim.
But to grant your entreaty were really a sin-
In receiving you here, I should take you all in!”
“Please, madam, do!”
Said the terrified crew,
Who fancied each moment much darker it grew,
And gazing with awe,
Believed that they saw
Wild beasts coming after with ravenous maw
(Not to mention such trifles as jaw, paw, or claw),
And spectres enough all their marrow to thaw;
So closer and closer together they drew,
Repeating the chorus of “Please, madam, do!”
“My poor children!” said she,
“I’ve a husband, and he
Is an Ogre as savage as savage can be;
His appetite’s great, and when hungry he’s sweet on boys;
So board, lodging, and clothing
He ’ll give you for no-thing, *
Besides education—because you ’ll be Eton, boys!”
These words they don’t like,
But the terror they strike
Not being so near
As the darkness they fear,
They beg her once more to their prayer to give ear.
* Pray pardon the rhyme, which, it’s terribly clear,
Is a rhyme to the eye, not a rhyme to the ear.
If in thus fitting clothing you fancy I fail, or
Am making a botch—say ’t was done by a tailor.
“By arm, leg, or head,
He dragged all the urchins from under the bed”
“Please, madam, do!”
Said the terrified crew;
“We’re prepared to be eaten, we’re in such a stew!
Besides, ma’am, you might
Put us out of his sight;
We only want shelter and food for the night.
Let our prayers, and our tears, and our woes your heart soften; Some supper provide us,
And hide us—please hide us,-
We ‘re quite used to it, father has done it so often.’’
Moved by their tears, she flung open the door,
And gave them some food; but in five minutes more,
Ere they’d finished their bread
And Gloster, she said,
“Here’s the Ogre approaching—get under the bed!
Unless you feel gridiron-like or stewpan-ish,
Or would like to be fried with the onions called Spanish!
They were off in a jiffy,
As promptly as if he
Were Colonel Stodare and had said to them, “Vanish!”
But scarce were they hidden away, I declare,
Than the giant came in with a curious air.
All his wife’s kind precautions were very well meant,
But he, like a Jew
Who is going to do
A bill, was not easily sent off the scent.
“Fee, faw, fum!”
Said he, “there are some
Little children about—yes, I nose there are, mum!”
No sooner said,
Than by arm, leg, or head,
He dragged all the urchins from under the bed.