  The Late Fitz-Binks I T was about an hour they call the small, and the mysterious,An hour wherein the ghosts are wont to take their constitutional, 'Twas twenty-four o'clock; an hour that's oftimes deleterious To many a liver wetted swell, pugnacious or emotional. The beggared corporation lights, did flick in the nor'wester gale, That blistering nose, and finger-tips, were loaded well with sleet, When Binks harrangued a constable, "Good night, it's cold, you're looking pale," From where he backed a lamp-post, at the end of Brunswick Street. "Ah! Sergeant," said Fitz-Binks, "It's late, or I could treat you decently, And 'twouldn't be too dusty, if we had a flying drink; But Chap, of Vic., is strict, they passed in Parliament so recently," The bobbie was a thirsty one, he winked a thirsty wink. "Ha! ha!" said Binks, "You know the lines, so don't be too particular, There's some back door that's open," said the constable, "you're right; Just move an' there thro' yondher lane an' hide up perpendicular, Beyant the lamp, I'll folly whin there's nobody in sight." The thing was managed gracefully, and with an open sesamÈ, The constable had stolen to a quiet bar with Binks, Produced a clay, said he, "I hope yer honor won't think less of me, To pull a pipe," "By Jove! I don't," said Binks, and bought the drinks. The moment was so contraband, it gave unto that liquor bar, A zest, he asked the constable to take another neat, But lifting out his ticker, says the bobbie, "Well be quick or 'gar! The sergeant might come whop on me! he's out upon his beat." The constable decanted it, said he, "Howld on until I look, Now fly!" said he, and while they dived again into the night, He fished from out his overcoat, and deftly in his mouth he stuck, A friendly lump of orris root, to make his breath all right. That bobbie was a wily one, the act was rather opportune, For they had scarcely managed to get half-way up the gut When he was made aware that he must coin a whited whopper soon, For hark! it was the tramping of the sergeant's heavy foot! Said he, "We must dissimble, or I'm ruined, and a shapable, Excuse I'll have to make!" * * * * * * "What brings the two of you down here?" "I'm makin' just a Pres'ner, Sir, he's dhrunk, an' he's incapable," Exclaimed the bobbie, gripping Binks, just under Binks's ear! 'Twas somewhat ominous for Binks, though he protested not, he chewed The cud of thought, until he saw that sergeant out of sight; He had not comprehended yet, the patronising turpitude Of bobbies, who will take a treat, "well now," said he, "good night," But spake that constable, said he, "good night is best for you, ye see, But it won't answer now for me, I darn't let you go, It's quietly, and aisily, and dacently, you'll come wid me, Yer dhrunk, an' yer incapable! I towld the sergeant so." Fitz-Binks fell plump in mire of doubt, 'twas shocking! thus to realize, Such treachery, and subterfuge, of ingrate sneak of sin, But 60 X was bigger in his figure, by a deal of size, And little Binks, was little, so the bobbie ran him in! The sergeant,—he who took the charge—was grave, and staid, particular! He entered Binks upon his book, and sent him to the cell, And Binks did forfeit half a sov., for standing perpendicular, Before the Beak, and leaving court, he cursed that bobbie well! He said the act was scandalous, and of the gutter order, he,— That bobbie was, "Ah whisht! ye see, an' howld yer tongue, shut up It's fond of me, you ought to be, if I swore ye wor disordherly, It would have cost ye exthra, or you'd maybe be put up!" It used to be a sermonising habit, and methodical, To tag a moral story, with a warning at its end And bobbie entertainments in the midnight, might be quodical! So leave him to his duty, if you'd keep him as a friend. |
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