Dame Europa kept a Lodging House,
And she was fond of brass;
She took in public lodgers,
Of every rank and class.

She’d French and Germans, Dutch and Swiss,
And other nations too;
So poor old Mrs. Europe
Had plenty work to do.

I cannot just now name her beds,
Her number being so large;
But five she kept for deputies,
Which she had in her charge.

So in this famous Lodging house,
John Bull he stood A ONE,
On whom she always kept an eye,
To see things rightly done.

And Master Louis was her next,
And second, there’s no doubt,
For when a little row took place,
He always backed John out.

For in her house was Alex Russ,
Oft him they ey’d with fear;
For Alex was a lazy hound,
And kept a Russian Bear.

Her fourth was a man of grace,
And was for heaven bent;
His name was Pious William,
Guided by his testament.

Her fifth, too, was a pious Knave,
And ’tis our firm belief,
He once did rob the Hungary Lads
Of their honest bread and beef.

These were Dame Europe’s deputies,
In whom she put her trust,
To keep her lodging house at peace,
In case eruption burst.

For many a time a row took place,
While sharing out the scran;
But John and Louis soon stepp’d in,
And cleared the padding can.

Once Alex Russ’s father Nick,
A bit before he died,
Seized a little Turk one day,
And thought to warm his hide.

But John and Louis soon stepp’d in,
Declaring it foul play;
And made old Nick remember it
Until his dying day.

Now all Dame Europe’s deputies,
They made themselves at home;
And every lodger knew his bed,
Likewise his sitting room.

They took great interest in their beds,
And kept them very clean;
Unlike some other padding cans,
So dirty and so mean.

But Louis had the nicest bed,
Of any of the lot;
And being close by a window,
He loved a flower pot.

The best and choicest bed of all,
Was occupied with Johnny;
Because the Dame did favour him,
He did collect her money.

And in a little bunk he lived,
Seal’d up with oak, and tarr’d;
He would not let a single one,
Come near within a yard.

A Jack of all trades, too, was John,
And aught he’d do for brass;
And what he ever took in hand,
No one could him surpass.

When tired of being shut up it bunk,
Sometimes he went across,
To spend an hour with Master Louis,
And they the wine would toss.

So many a happy day they spent,
These lads, with one another;
While every lodger in the house,
Thought John was Louis’ brother.

The Dame allowed John something nice,
To get well in her rent,
Which every now and then it bank,
He put it on per cent.

And working very hard himself
Amongst his tar and pitch;
He soon accumulated wealth,
That made him very rich.

The next to Louis’ bed was Will,
The biggest Monitor;
And though he did pretend a saint,
He was as big a cur.

He loved to make them all believe
He was opposed to strife,
And said he never caused a row,
No, never in his life.

He was so fond of singing psalms,
And read his testament;
So everybody was deceived
When he was on mischief bent.

He seldom passed a lodger’s bed
But what he took a glance,
Which made them every one suspect
He’d rob them if he’d chance.

Now Louis had two flower pots
He nourished with much care,
But little knew that Willie’s eyes
Were set upon the pair.

In one there grew an Alsace Rose,
The other a Loraine,
And Willie vowed they once were his
And must be his again.

He said his father once lodg’d there,
And that the dame did know
That Louis predecessors once
Had sneaked them in a row.

But in Willie’s council was a lad
Up to every quirk,
To keep him out of mischief, long
Dame Europe had her work.

To this smart youth Saint Willie
Did whisper his desire
One night as they sat smoking,
Besides the kitchen fire.

To get them flowers back again,
Said Bissy, very low,
Meet Louis somewhere on the quiet,
And try to cause a row.

But mind the other deputies
Don’t catch you on the hop,
For John and Joseph you must know
Your little game would stop.

For Joseph he has not forgot
The day you warmed his rig;
And christian Denmark still thinks on
About his nice Slesvig.

By your advice, my own Dear Mark,
I have been guided on,
But what about that man i’t bunk?
Pointing o’er to John.

He’s very plucky too is John,
But yet he’s very slow,
And perhaps he never may perceive
Our scheme about the row.

But not another word of this
To anybody’s ears,
The dame she plays the list’ner,
I have my doubts and fears.

So let us go up-stairs at once,
I think it will be best,
And let us pray to Him above,
Before we go to rest.

So with a pious countenance,
His prayers as usual said,
But squinting round the room the while,
He spied an empty bed.

What a pity that these empty stocks
Should be unoccupied;
Do you think my little cousin, Mark,
To them could be denied.

’Tis just the very thing, said Mark,
Your cousin, sir, and you,
Would carry out my scheme first-rate,
One at each side of Lue.

The dame being asked did not object
If he could pay the rent,
And had a decent characterz
And Louis would consent.

But I do object to this says Lue,
And on this very ground,
Willy and his cousins, ma’am,
They soon will me surround.

They’re nothing in my line at all
They are so near a-kin,
And so if I consent to this
At once they’ll hem me in.

O, you couldn’t think it, Master Lue,
That I should do you harm,
For don’t I read my testament
And don’t I sing my psalm.

’Tis all my eye, said Louis, both
Your testament and psalms;
You use the dumbbells regular
To strengthen up your arms.

So take your poor relation off,
You pious-looking prig,
And open out Kit Denmark’s box,
And give him back Slesvig.

Come, come, says Mrs. Europe,
Let’s have no bother here,
Your trying now to breed a row
At least it does appear.

Now Johnny hearing from the bunk
What both of them did say,
He shouted out, Now stop it, Will,
Or else you’ll rue the day.

All right friend John, I’m much obliged,
You are my friend, I know,
And so my little cousin, sir,
I’m willing to withdraw.

But Louis frothed at mouth with rage,
Like one that was insane,
And said he’d make Bill promise him
He’d not offend again.

I’d promise no such thing, says Mark,
For that would hurt your pride,
Sing on and read your testament,
Dame Europe’s on your side.

If I’d to promise out at sort,
’Twould be against my mind;
So take it right or take it wrong,
I’ll promise naught at kind.

Then I shall take and wallop thee
Unless thou cuts thy stick,
And drive thee to thy fatherland
Before another week.

Come on, cried Sanctimonius,
And sending out his arm
He caught poor Louis on the nose,
Then sung another psalm.

But Louis soon was on his pins,
And used his fists a bit,
But he was fairly out of breath,
And seldom ever hit.

And at the end of round the first,
He got it fearful hot,
This was his baptism of fire
If we mistake it not.

So Willy sent a letter home,
To his mother, old Augusta,
Telling her he’d thrashed poor Lue,
And given him such a duster.

What wonderful events, says he,
Has heaven brought about,
I fight the greatest pugilist
That ever was brought out.

And if by divine Providence
I get safe through this row,
Then I will sing “My God the spring
From whom all blessings flow.”

Meanwhile the other Monitors,
Were standing looking on,
But none of them durst speak a word,
But all stared straight at John.

Ought not I to interfere,
Says Johnny to the rest,
But he was told by every one
Neutrality was the best.

Neutral, growl’d John, I hate the name,
’Tis poison to my ear,
It’s another word for cowardice,
And makes me fit to swear.

At any rate I can do this,
My mind I will not mask,
I’ll give poor Lue a little drop
Out of my brandy flask.

And give it up, poor Lue, my lad,
You might as well give in,
You know that I have got no power,
Besides you did begin.

Then Louis rose, and looked at John,
And spoke of days gone by,
When he would not have seen his friend,
Have blackened Johnny’s eye.

And as for giving in, friend John,
I’ll do nothing of the sort;
Do you think I’ll be a laughing stock
For everybody’s sport.

This conversation that took place
Made pious Willy grin,
And told John Bull to hold his noise,
’Twas nought to do with him.

These words to John did make him stare,
And, finding to his shame,
That them were worse that did look on,
Than them that played the game.

Now Dame Europe knew the facts
Which had been going on,
And with her usual dignity,
These words addressed to John:

Now, Mr. Bull, pray answer me,—
Why are you gaping here?
You are my famous deputy,
Then why not interfere?

Why, answered John, and made a bow,
But yet was very shy;
I was told to be a neutral, ma’am,
And that’s the reason why.

That’s just what you should not have done,
Being in authority;
Did I not place you in that bunk
To think and act for me?

Why any baby in the house
Could not have done much worse,
But I fancy you’ve been holding back
To save your private purse.

Neutrality is as fine a word
As ever a coward used,
So the honour that I gave to you
You shouldn’t have abused.

The minor lodgers in the house,
On hearing this to John,
Began to whisper and to laugh,
And call’d it famous fun.

At last a little urchin said,
Please ma’am I’d take my oath,
At master John were neutral,
And stuck up for them both.

Stuck up for both, offended both,—
Is that it what you mean?
Continued Madame Europe,
Then spoke to John again:

Now I’ll tell you what it is, John,
We’ve long watch’d your career,
You take your fag’s advice to save
Your paltry sums a year.

There’s Bob and Bill, besides some more
That I call naught but scums,
They’ve got you fairly in between
Their fingers and their thumbs.

If such like men as Ben and Hugh
This day your fags had been,
They would have saved both you and me
The cursed disgraceful scene.

And instead of being half-clad and shod,
As everybody knows,
You would have dared these rivals now
To come to such like blows.

There was a time in this house, John,
If you put up your thumb,
The greatest blackguard tongue would stop
As if they had been dumb.

But not a one i’t house
This moment cares a fig,
For all you say or all you do,
Although your purse be big.

I couldn’t hurt poor Louis, ma’am,
Although he did begin;
And then you see that Will and I
Are very near akin.

Beside, you see, said John again,
I let poor Louis sup,
On both I use my ointment, and
Their wounds I did bind up.

A weel a day then said the dame,
But much affected were,
I see you have some small excuse
What you have done it for.

I have some little hopes left yet
That you may yet have sense,
To know your high position, John,
Instead of saving pence.

You yet will learn that duty, sir,
Cannot be ignored,
However disagreeable when
Placed before the board.

And let me tell you he who shirks
The responsibility
Of seeing right, is doing wrong,
And deserves humility.

And ’tis an empty-headed dream,
To boast of skill and power,
And dare not even interfere
At the latest hour.

Better far confess at once
You’re not fit for your place,
Than have a name Heroic, sir,
Branded with disgrace.

But I will not say another word,
My deputies, to you;
But hope you will a warning take,
This moment from poor Lue.

And hoping, John, your enemies
May never have the chance
To see you paid for watching Will
Thrash poor weak Louis France.