John Trot. — A Ballad
I
JOHN TROT he was as tall a lad
As York did ever rear—
As his dear Granny used to say,
He’d make a grenadier.
II
A serjeant soon came down to York,
With ribbons and a frill;
My lads, said he, let broadcast be,
And come away to drill.
III
But when he wanted John to ’list,
In war he saw no fun,
Where what is call’d a raw recruit,
Gets often over-done.
IV
Let others carry guns, said he,
And go to war’s alarms,
But I have got a shoulder-knot
Impos’d upon my arms.
V
For John he had a footman’s place
To wait on Lady Wye—
She was a dumpy woman, tho’
Her family was high.
VI
Now when two years had past away,
Her Lord took very ill,
And left her to her widowhood,
Of course more dumpy still.
VII
Said John, I am a proper man,
And very tall to see;
Who knows, but now her Lord is low,
She may look up to me?
VIII
A cunning woman told me once,
Such fortune would turn up;
She was a kind of sorceress,
But studied in a cup!
IX
So he walk’d up to Lady Wye,
And took her quite amazed,—
She thought, tho’ John was tall enough,
He wanted to be raised.
X
But John—for why? she was a dame
Of such a dwarfish sort—
Had only come to bid her make
Her mourning very short.
XI
Said he, your Lord is dead and cold,
You only cry in vain;
Not all the Cries of London now,
Could call him back again!
XII
You’ll soon have many a noble beau,
To dry your noble tears—
But just consider this, that I
Have follow’d you for years.
XIII
And tho’ you are above me far,
What matters high degree,
When you are only four feet nine
And I am six foot three.
XIV
For tho’ you are of lofty race,
And I’m a low-born elf;
Yet none among your friends could say
You matched beneath yourself.
XV
Said she, such insolence as this
Can be no common case;
Though you are in my service, sir,
Your love is out of place.
XVI
O Lady Wye! O Lady Wye!
Consider what you do;
How can you be so short with me,
I am not so with you?
XVII
Then ringing for her serving men,
They show’d him to the door:
Said they, you turn out better now,
Why didn’t you before?
XVIII
They stripp’d his coat, and gave him kicks
For all his wages due;
And off, instead of green and gold,
He went in black and blue.
XIX
No family would take him in,
Because of this discharge;
So he made up his mind to serve
The country all at large.
XX
Huzza! the Serjeant cried, and put
The money in his hand,
And with a shilling cut him off
From his paternal land.
XXI
For when his regiment went to fight
At Saragossa town,
A Frenchman thought he look’d too tall
And so he cut him down!