William Theodore Parkes

“ A man beheld a woman, come floating down the tide.
And far away in London, a bride, and bridegroom fled
From their hotel at midnight—a ghost was round the bed!
They sought a second lodging, but in the room, as host,
Was waiting to receive them that sad, intruding ghost. 238
They tried a cabman's shelter, but it was all in vain,
That tantalizing spectre was by their sides again.
Aye, even in the daylight, in Rotten Row, aloud
They heard an awful murmur like water thro' the crowd;
A moan as from neuralgia did on each tympan strike,
"His ghost is on the war path avenging Hiram Smike." ”

“ Cried Pat O'Byrne, "It's not a fight, for any dacent man,
Four mortial hours we've struggled—an' I'm all in a sweat!"
Said Gorman "Pon me sowl, I got no chance to kill ye yet!"
"The fight has been protracted, and divil a thing is done,
I vote we go and tell her", said O'Byrne, "that it's no fun,
To fight, as we've been fighting. Tib's Eve might come, and go,
We'd still be found here fooling her donkeys thro' the snow." ”

“ The slightest human murmur, thro' the keyhole of the latch,
At last it came! the midnight yet, was booming from a clock,
When lo! a scratching on the door, and half-way thro' the lock,
I heard the question, and with shout, I gave the ghosts a shock,
By springing to the lobby, like a chip of blasting rock!
And bounded twixt the spectres, with the rage of fighting cock,
Then facing Colonel Bouncer's Ghost, "Thou caitiff spook" I cried,
"Was it for this, that Shakespeare wrote, and Colonel Hampden died?
For this! that Cromwell lopped a royal head as traitor knave? 10
For this! ”

“ In a very little time, he'd be gathering his whack,
From the azure-fired diamond—upper dust,
"You'll be having a millenium of it yet, working men,
Put me into Parliament, and then,
You'll find it a fact, we'll pass every act,
For your chums, and your kids, working men,
The hours you will work, will be eight, working men,
On Saturday, not quarter so late,
And another holiday, in the middle of the week,
We'll give you, by the laws of the state,
With a capon, or a duck, on your plate,
O put me into Parliament, and wait! ”

“ She sang with taste, but slightly, the strings were out of tune,
She warbled of the Regent, of Sheridan and Burke,
Buck Nash, and of Beau Brummel, and of the fatal work,
Enacted in a duel, then struck a broken string,
And with a sigh she faltered, and then she ceased to sing.
I told her, composition of song, was in my line,
Then, with a look intended as tender and divine,
And mode of days of Brummel, in manner and in style,
She lauded up the bedroom with captivating smile,
Electro-biologic, magnetic in her glance,
She fixed me like a medium, as tenant in advance! ”

“ Look! isn't he a cough-drop? it's only such a scare,
Would live in such a lodging, with Madam Stiffin there!"
I never felt so worried at anything before!
Could scarcely find the keyhole of double-knockered door,
And up the stairs I tottered, as in a walking trance,
Next morning, she'd be coming for payment in advance,
Next morning, at the striking of twelve upon the clock,
I started from my slumber, it was her double knock!
I jumped up at the summons, and leaping out of bed,
I answered, and she entered, and unto her I said,
"I'm here thro' false pretences; I understand you're dead!" ”

“ When hark! a cry was uttered that made the lady think;
A voice of an old woman, employed upon that day,
To do some extra tending, "look here," said she, "I say,
I guess you do not know me because I've shaved my chin,
I'm dressed like an old woman, but I'm a man within;
I'm Hiram Smike, your lover, who left the Yankee shore,
To come back here to wed you, I'm darned for evermore.
You've lifted me like thunder, but you shall never boast
Of how you jilted Hiram—I'm off to make a ghost!" ”

“ Twas thro' his indignation he did make a vulgar slip
And coined so rude a simile,—in re the farthing dip;
"I find my brains have broken loose, my occiputs to let,
But ha! I've got a last resource, that none may wot of yet,
I'll take my diamond ring to-night, and use it round his panes,
And in a mask I'll burgle him, and steal his liberal brains!"
He quaffed the glorious fizz again, a swill both deep and strong
Nor witted he, nor wotted he, it was a lawless wrong
To steal another's brains. He then invested in some crape,
And putty, thus to make his nose more liberal of shape ”

“ Alive with ever-recurring flashes of wit and drollery, will afford many a pleasant hour to all to whom a laugh is welcome."—United Ireland.
"A delightful diverting volume, from cover to cover, of the sixty-one ballads before us; not one halts, they are all boisterous with bubbling mirth and frolic. Happy the man who in a moment of ill humour, lights on a copy of Spook Ballads. Fun of this kind is contagious, and before he has dipped far into Mr. Parkes' pages he will have forgotten his temper or his ennui. ”

“ For lo! the fight was doubled, the skittish donkeys sought,
To variegate the contest, and capered round, and fought;
They gave no chance. The foemen, with awkward clink of steels,
Struck now and then, while skew-ways the donkeys fought with heels,—
'Twas six o'clock commencing, and now, the strokes of ten,
Were sounding from the city, and still these mounted men,
Had not received abrasion, a cut, a prod, or crack,
When both were somersaulted, from off each asses' back;
The weapons went in splinters, as on the frosty grass,
Each foeman sprawled a moment, and loudly cursed his ass. ”

“ About as laugh-inspiring verse as perhaps ever issued from the Press, the Spook Ballads are one and all conceived in a most exuberant spirit of drollery. There is a laugh almost in every line, fun galore bubbles through every page. Where could one find a more touching combination of humour and pathos than the dedication lines 'Bohemians Hail!' There are lines in it worthy of some of the best touches of Poe. ”

“ To flee from Ghosts, and hence the Ghost is not yet understood,
Now as for me, I moan it not, for jest of idle sport,
My task, it is as murdered Ghost, to haunt in Hampton Court!
I play the victim to a spook, who chucked me down a stair,
Thro' being caught too near my lady's bedroom unaware."
"Poor shade of ill mischance!" I sobbed, the while a wayward tear,
Tricked out along my nose, and lodged upon my tunic here,
"I pray that thou would'st tell me all, withholding ne'er a jot,
For I might do thee service, in some most unlikely spot,"
"O blessed chance!" ”

“ A weary of world expression clouds the features of a few with an unuttered protest, for the disagreeable fact of their birth, whilst others seem by their grumpy glances to suggest a jealous objection to other people's existence.
A select few, unconsciously advertise a flippant gratification at the possession of life, and squeeze festivity from it, as colour from a blue rag. But all are haunted with the mysterious workings of unseen spirits, that usually accompany the fares, in the latest car at night. ”

“ The iron ships, and bullet proof cuirass to scape the fight?
Was it for this! we've wove around the world a social net
Of speaking steel, that thou should'st perpetrate thy murder yet?
Out! out on thee! as traitor of thine oath unto the crown!
By gripping of thy butler, by his breech to jock him down,
Was it for this! that justice wrung thy neck on Tyburn tree,
To expiate the direful debt to justice due by thee? ”

“ It's O when consumptive virtue, is treated by such, you see
The ruin, like that enacted by Tommins, L.R.C.P.
He was called to attend the Lady May Monica Pendigrew,
From a fit of the blues he roused her, and prettily pulled her through,
But managed her like a pilot, who getting a treacherous grip,
Sails out into deeper water, to scuttle and sink the ship!
O gents, by æsthetical fraud, he played on the lady's mind,
With Shakespeare collar and fur, a sunflower, and such kind,
He called her too utterly too, and posed in a limpish style,
And droned in a minorly key, of love, like a fretwork file. ”

“ THE BEDROOM CURSE AND THE MURDERED COCKATOO
T IM DOOLIN was a well known jock, an active sprite, and light and trim,
And time there was, that jocks did funk, to mount, and run the race with him.
He won by length, he won by head, he saved the race by nose, and ear,
Till all the jocks, around their pints, exclaimed the thing was devilish queer.
But fortune is a gay coquette; by fickle fortune, Doolin lost,
Till every one who backed him, soon did find him out a fraud and frost. ”

“ He taught them both in fencing, and yet they did not know,
That each, was being instructed by his rival, Mons. Le Beau.
They tied her pair of donkeys, unto her garden pier,
When from the topmost window, that servant shouted "Here,
A note she left to give you, for both of you to learn."
'Twas written: "Kit O'Gorman, and Mister Pat O'Byrne,
I've sent a couple of donkeys, I thought that they might teach
What fools you are, for fighting, for what's beyond your reach,
But, silly as my donkeys, if both of you remain,
Remorse for death, will follow,
I'm yours, Theresa Jane." ”

“ The orthography of the present brochure is as comically outrageous, the similes and comparisons as far-fetched, and yet as true to nature—the whole dainty tome as full of genuine, rollicking, open-hearted Irish fun and humour as 'The Installation' or 'Sods from Puncherstown.' It is pathetic, comical—true to nature, true to art."—Tyrone Constitution.
"It is seldom in these days that one comes upon anything thoroughly and undeniably Irish in the matter of witty writing. But the productions of 'Barney Bradey' are a refreshing exception to this doleful rule. ”

“ Parkes's pencil is a lively companion for his pen; the two of them rollick and frolic down page after page in a state of hilarity that would dissipate and dispose of the worst attack of 'blues.' The sun does not shine every day, and when the hour is dark and dreary there will be found enlivement and joviality and wholesome entertainment within the covers of this volume."—Free Lance in the Weekly Irish Times.
"If any of our readers wish to enjoy a long and pleasant life let them ask for Spook Ballads! ”

“ Till three of the A.M. clock,
Than wrong the tramway co. of a coin,
That wasn't my legal stock.
There's nobody sees the ghost but me,
Because he's a sneaking sprite,
He always comes when I take my turn
On the latest car at night.
That's him! he's there in the corner seat,
The man that I killed is there,
I hate to have it to say, But no,
I can't recover my fare! ”

“ The whole story of Napoleon's war is told in verse, with a genuine Irish humour, abounding in good points and suggestive images. The fun is quite of an original kind, and is really sui generis. The author has great command of language, expressive yet simple, and manages meter with uncommon skill. The strange inversions, provoking hyberbole, and quaint terms characteristic of Irish humour, are here lavishly displayed; and the man who would not laugh with Barney, while yet appreciating his satirical truth, must be unhappy indeed. ”

“ The man of easy habits then, will see the evil sprite of gloom,
Come prowling for his guilty soul, and bear it down the trap of doom.
The landlady can never make the lodgers in that room content,
They never stay, beyond the day that she has asked them for the rent,
But men are not so wicked now; they will not swear an oath for pelf. ”

“ One night there was a darkness, like crape upon the land,
And such a gust and thunder, a man could hardly stand.
The tempest was so fearsome, that if you spoke in shouts,
'Twould only be a tangle of tipsy words and doubts.
'Twas on that gloomy evening, the honest young cashier,
Bespoke him to the manager, and "Sir," said he, "Look here,
The staff is nearly idle, and so I think you might
Excuse me now, I'm wanting to do a thing to-night?" ”

“ We'll dance to the charms of elphin song,
Down under the greenwood tree."
And she coaxed him again, with a dainty kiss,
"Oh, sweetheart, come, be gay!"
But a spirit within, still held him down,
In a magical sort of way.
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"I hope, that you don't imagine," said she,
"That I am a frivolous flirt,
I'm the woman, that's new, the fashion to-day,
With rational trunks, for skirt,
I can ride, on a bicycle, made for two,
Or 'tec out the sins of town,"
But all he could do, was give her a grin,
From the spirit that held him down! ”

“ 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!"
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, 43
"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 ”

“ Said he to Bridget "I'm not in.
Just say that I am out," said he, and quickly up the stairs he flew,
The stranger knocked. "Ah, let me see," and up the stairs he mounted, too.
The servant sneaked the key-hole then, and saw a struggle on the bed,
Then ran below—"Mavrone, asthore, come up, agrah, the lodger's dead!"
The moral is of gentlemen you do not know, you should beware:
You should not use your bedroom, for a hiding-place, to curse, and swear.
To curse a harmless constable upon his beat, is even worse;
'Twas he who caught the jurymen, who gave the verdict on his corse. ”

“ The author has a broad vein of humour."—Evening News (London) .
"When parties perusing this volume have completed its 250 pages they will only regret that it is not double its size."—The Irish Times.
"The naivete of the wit is most irresistible, and the humour most amusing. 'The Ghost of Hampton Court' and 'The spirit that held him down' are both decidedly clever, but it is to 'The Girl of Castlebar,' 'The Fairy Queen' and 'Why did ye die?" we turn for all that is most original and sparkling. ”