Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TRUANTS, by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE TRUANTS, by             Poem Explanation         Poet's Biography
First Line: Three little demons have broken loose
Last Line: And now goes by the name of 'swing.'
Alternate Author Name(s): Ingoldsby, Thomas
Subject(s): Devil; Satan; Mephistopheles; Lucifer; Beelzebub


One morning in Spring,
THREE little Demons have broken loose
Two children did fling
Their satchels aside with glee:
From the National School below!
In a very short space,
They are resolved to play truant to-day,
You might see, if you'd pace
Their primer and slate they have cast away,
By the banks of the River Lee,
And away, away, they go!

'Hey boys! hey boys! up go we!

Who so merry as we three?'

Two boys full of joy,
The reek of that most infernal pit,
One big, one a small boy,
And beside them a dog you might see.
Where sinful souls are stewing,
Away went their hats,
Rises so black, that in viewing it,
A thousand to one but you'd ask with surprise
Away went the cats,
And the feathers blew all of a bree!
As its murky columns met your eyes,

'Pray, is Old Nick a-brewing?'

Thither these three little Devils repair,
And mount by steam to the uppermost air.
A bull then came out,
Of a field with a shout,
They have got hold of a wandering star,
That happen'd to come within hail.
And after them scamper'd full speed;
O swiftly they glide! As they merrily ride
But he met with a shock
All a cock-stride Of that Comet's tail.
From behind a large rock,
Which made him retreat with great speed.
Oh the pranks! Oh the pranks!
The merry pranks, the mad pranks,

These wicked urchins play!

They kiss'd the Virgin and fill'd her with dread,
A swarm of wild bees
Then flew over their knees,
They popp'd the Scorpion into her bed;
They broke the pitcher of poor Aquarius,
And buzz'd in a very loud key;
They stole the arrows of Sagittarius,
Let's be off! said Tom Spring,
Or we shall feel a sharp sting!
And they skimm'd the Milky Way.
So they scamper'd away in great glee.
They fill'd the Scales with sulphur full,
The hallooed the Dog-Star on at the Bull,


And pleased themselves with the noise.
They set the Lion On poor Orion;
The wind then did roar,
They shaved all the hair Off the Lesser Bear!
And the waves lash'd the shore,
And the clouds were as black as a sloe;
They kick'd the shins Of the Gemini Twins --
Those heavenly Siamese Boys! --
Said Jack, "We shall sink,
In a minute, I think;
Never was such confusion and wrack,
As they produced in the Zodiac! --
So let's make the best of our way home, Joe!"

'Huzza! Huzza! Away! Away!
Let us go down to the earth and play!

They laugh'd and they sung,
Now we go up, up, up, Now we go down, down, down,
As they trudged along,
Now we go backwards and forwards,
Now we go round, round, round!'
And the dog gamboled round by their side;
Thus they gambol, and scramble, and tear,
And the setting sun threw
Till at last they arrive at the nethermost air.
A bright golden hue

On the waves of the murmuring tide.

And pray now what were these Devilets call'd?

These three little Fiends so gay!
They reach'd the old school,
One was Cob! Another was Mob!
The last and the least was young Chittabob!
And they thought it no rule
To tell what had happen'd that day;
Queer little devils were they!
So they said they were ill,
Cob was the strongest, Mob was the wrongest,
And took rather a pill,
Chittabob's tail was the finest and longest!
Three more frolicsome Imps, I ween,
And they hoped to do better next day.
Beelzebub's self hath seldom seen.

Over Mountain, over Fell,

Glassy Fountain, mossy Dell,
Rocky Island, barren Strand, Over Ocean, over Land,
With frisk and bound, and squeaks and squeals,
Heels over head, and head over heels;
With curlings and twistings, and twirls and wheeleries,
Down they drop at the gate of the Tuileries.

Courtiers were bowing and making legs,
While Charley le Roi was bolting eggs:
'Mob,' says Cob, 'Chittabob,' says Mob,
'Come here, you young Devil, we're in for a job!'
Up jumps Cob to the Monarch's ear,
'Charley, my jolly boy, never fear;
If you mind all their jaw About Charter and Law,
You might just as well still be the Count d' Artois!
No such thing, Show 'em you're King,
Tip 'em an Ordinance, that's the thing!'
Charley dined, Took his pen and sign'd;
Then Mob kick'd over his throne from behind!
'Huzza! Huzza! we may scamper now!
For here we've kick'd up a jolly good row!

'Over the water and over the Sea,
And over the water with charlie';
Now they came skipping and grinning with glee,
Not pausing to chaff or to parley.
Over, over, On to Dover;
On fun intent, All through Kent
These mischievous devils so merrily went.
Over hill and over dale,
Sunken hollow, lofty ridge,
Frowning cliff, and smiling vale,
Down to the foot of Westminster-bridge.
'Hollo,' says Cob, 'There's the Duke and Sir Bob!
After 'em, Chittabob, after 'em, Mob.'
Mob flung gravel, and Chittabob pebbles,
His Grace c-----d them both for a couple of rebels:
His feelings were hurt By the stones and the dirt --
In went he In an ecstasy,
And blew up the nobles of high degree.

'Mr. Brougham, Mr. Hume, May fret and may fume --
And so may all you whom I see in this room;
Come weal, come woe, come calm, come storm --
I'll see you all -- bless'd -- ere I give you reform.'
'Bravo!' says Chittabob, 'that's your sort,
Come along, schoolfellows, here's more sport.
Look there! look there! There's the great Lord May'r!
With the gravest of Deputies close to his chair!
With Hobler, his Clerk! Just the thing for a lark:
Huzzah! huzzah! boys, follow me now;
Here we may kick up another good row.'
Here they are, Swift as a star,
They shoot in mid air, over Temple Bar!
Tom Macaulay beheld the flight
Of these three little dusky sons of night,
And his heart swell'd with joy and elation --
'Oh, see!' quoth he, 'Those Niggerlings three,
Who have just got emancipation!'

Lord Key took fright: At the very first sight,
The whole Court of Aldermen wheel'd to the right;
Some ran from Chittabob -- more from Mob,
The great locum tenens jump'd up upon Cob,
Who roar'd and ran With the Alderman
To the Home Office, pick-a-back -- catch 'em who can!
'Stay at home -- here's a plot, And I can't tell you what,
If you don't, I'll be shot, But you'll all go to pot.'
Ah, little he ween'd, while the ground he thus ran over,
'Twas a Cob he bestrode -- not his white horse from Hanover.

Back they came galloping through the Strand,
When Joseph Lancaster, stick in hand,
Popp'd up his head before 'em.
Well we know, That honest old Joe,
Is a sort of High Master down below,
And teaches the Imps decorum.
Satan had started him off in a crack
To flog these three little runaways back.

Fear each assails; Every one quails;
'Oh dear! how he'll tickle our little black tails'
Have done, have done, Here's that son of a gun,
Old Joe, come after us, -- run, boys, run.'
Off ran Cob, Off ran Mob,
And off in a fright ran young Chittabob;
Joe caught Chittabob just by the tail,
And Cob by his crumpled horn;
Bitterly then did these Imps bewail,
That ever they were born!
Mob got away, But none to this day
Know exactly whither he went;
Some say he's been seen about Blackfriars-bridge,
And some say he's down in Kent.

But where'er he may roam,
He has not ventured home
Since the day the three took wing,
And many suppose
He has changed his clothes,
And now goes by the name of 'Swing.'





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