  illustration illustration He WAS a cabman grey I feck, All weird and wry to see; His face was ribbed like the turtle's neck, His nose like the strawberrie. If you think he was old, to you I say, Your thought obscures the truth— Despite the years that had passed away, He was still in his second youth. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "how fair she looks," One morn, as he did see, A maiden sweet with her school-books, A ward in the Chancerie. "How fair she looks!" quoth he, and put A load in his old black clay, And he didn't care if he hadn't a fare, The whole of the live-long day. illustration That night he looketh into the glass, With his nose like a strawberrie, "I know they'll say I'm a bloomin' goose But fate is fate you see." And he looketh into the glass once more, Where yet was another drain. Quoth he, "I've wedded three before," "The fourth I'll wed again." Next day he was out in the open street, And standing upon the stand, He heard the trip of her coming feet, 'Twas sweet as a German band. And forth he went and accosted her, He could not brook delay, "Hey up, look here, little gurl," said he, "I saw you yesterday." "I saw you yesterday. My 'eart Went out across your feet, And from your beauty came a dart That fixed me all complete; And all last night I dreamed a dream, To my bedside you came— You'll marvel at these words of him Who does not know your name. "I saw you yesterday. You smile." His eyes, like burning beads, Took root in her inmost soul the while, As deep as the ditch-grown weeds. "You smile. Ha, ha! to smile and laugh Is better than aye to frown It's fitter to whiffle away the chaff That covers a golden crown. "It's better to whittle away the cheat Of mankind if you can." And he cracked his whip. "It's a fair deceit And I am a curious man— Yes I am a curious man, my badge Is seventeen seventy-seven, But wot is a badge? It's a very small thing To the matches wot's made in Heaven!" illustration "How sweet he speaks!" the maiden thought "He's a lord in a rough disguise, As a cabman old he's coming to woo And give me a grand surprise; He seeks to hide himself in a mask, With a nose like a strawberrie, But I've read too many of three vol. novs., He couldn't disguise from me. "The Lord of Burleigh while incog. Did wed an humble bride, And legend lore recounteth more Of love like his beside. I've heard the ballad of Huntingtower, And some I forget by name, And when he's got rid of his strawberrie nose He'll maybe be one of the same!" illustration And she fondly looked on him, I ween, Sweet as the hawthorn spray, When all in bloom of white and green, It decks the month of May. "Oh, dearest Cabman," spoke she then, "No brighter fate were mine Than this: to be thine own laydee, My life with thee to twine. "But I am poor and lowly born, And never a match for thee— A girl a man like you would scorn, A ward in the Chancerie, With only a hundred thousand pounds, It may be less or more; But do not wreck a confiding heart, It often was done before." Illustration "Wo! ho!" quoth he, and in his sleeve He grinned, "It's a big mistake. The Chancerie is only a blind, But, yet, I am wide awake. If a hundred thousand pounds wor her's, She wouldn't be makin' free; I'd have to court her a little bit more, Before she'd be courtin' me. "I haven't the smallest doubt of this— The truth you tell," he began; "But I think that you misunderstand me miss, I am not a marryin' man. I only thought if you wanted a cab That I wouldn't be high in my fare," And he shuffled the nose-bag round the jaw Of his patient, hungry mare. She walked away, nor bade good day, While he thought of the Probate Court. "She's a girl, I twig, could give me a dig Of a barrister's wig for sport. Illustration I have only escaped the courts of law," Quoth he, "by a single hair!" As he finished the knot of his canvas bag On the nose of his hungry mare. |
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