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The whole of the rooms,

Which he fairly presumes, Folk who visit the place will be anxious to get ; And so, with proper precaution and tact, He sticks up a bill announcing the fact.

After some time has past, Mr. Crusoe at last,

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Finds his garments are shewing

Some symptoms of going;
Having worn out the clothes which he brought from the ship
He sees that he wants much the aid of a snip;
So resolves in the best way himself to equip,-

And builds him a garment,
Excessively“ varmint,"
Which though not a Nugee,

Yet fits free and easy ;
And though D’Orsay might fancy it not quite the thing,
Mr. Crusoe considers it fit for a king ;

And being for a hat, too, extremely hard up,
He makes one that suits him as well as a Jupp;
And he says to himself “faith 'tis no trifling matter,
To have tick with so famous a tailor and hatter.”

Things now proceed, as well as they need,
Far beyond anticipation indeed;

'Till Crusoe one day hears some very odd rumbling,
And an earthquake sets him and his house both tumbling;
Which so addles his head, that he takes to his bed,
Exceedingly ill from annoyance and dread;


And vexed that such numerous evils chould fall on him, Vows he 'll see no one who may chance to call on him.

Restored to his health, he walks out on the hill,

In a state of dejection,

Caused by the reflection, That none came to ask for him while he lay ill ;

But while he's so wandering,

Dolefully pondering,
He comes all at once to a sudden stand-still,
For he sees what with horror may well make him thrill;

There on the ground-distinctly in view,
He sees, God bless us !- a human shoe!
And he cries “Good gracious !—what shall I do?

Oh! can it be true ?

Am I destined anew,
To meet with a rascally civilised crew ?

After having been king,
Premier, everything,
Duke of Wellington, Peel,

Dan O'Connell, Tom Steele.
In my person comprising the administration,
The whole opposition—the whole legislation,
Am I now to be forced to a vile resignation ?

For my rent to be axed,
And plundered and taxed ;
Must fork out the poor-rates,

And all sort of new rates ;
Must I pay for the pipe-water, and paving and light ?
No, never as long as I 'm able to fight.”






Having made his resolve
He returns for his arms,

And full of alarms,
Determines at all risks the riddle to solve ;
So sets off at once with his very best Manton,
To see who has dared foot his island to plant on,-

When, thank heaven, he sees,

As he peeps through the trees,
A vision which sets him a good deal at ease ;

A body of men
It indeed is—but then,

They are only a party of savages met
For a ball and a déjeuner à la fourchette,
Which rids Crusoe quite of his fears of taxation,
And all the disasters of civilisation !

He looks for a while,

With sarcastical smile, On the pastimes with which they the moments beguile; He do n't admire greatly their dancing or gestures, And thinks them scarce modest enough in their vestures ; Though, indeed, he for this has no manner of reason, From his not having been to the ballet this season ;

And leave two of their party behind as they fiy,
One dead, and the other just ready to die;

The hapless young man

Wliom to roast they began,
And who seems not quite certain, unfortunate elf,
That Crusoe do n't now mean to eat him himself ;

But he soon finds that Crusoe
Does not mean to do so,
Inasmuch as such food

He do n't look on as good,
But thinks that the wretch thus preserved from the tomb,
Can be turned to far better account as his groom;

So he leaves him his life and his liberty too,

Whatsoever his master desires him to do, Says he 'll give him no drubbing, unless he should need 'em, Which means, he explains to him, rational freedom ;

Then dresses him out in a livery tidy,


If he had been, the costumes were so very like,
That it could n't have failed Mr. Crusoe to strike.

When tired of their hop,

The poor savages stop,
And Crusoe perceives that there's one pinioned fast, -

Whom they intend grilling by way of repast, —
Having lighted a fire of some withered branches,
At which they have just commenced toasting his haunches;
Now Crusoe who fancies that he has been slighted,

And thinks it most vile

That, as lord of the isle,
He has not to their little pic-nic been invited,

to a sense of their rudeness recalls,-
By giving them kindly a couple of balls;

But they in amaze

At the uproar and blaze,-
Being quite unaccustomed to civilised ways,-
Helter skelter run terrified to their canoes,
Thinking some demon their pathway pursues,

And gives him the pleasant cognomen of Fryday, As a sort of memento which he should have by him, Of his saving his life when his friends meant to fry him ;

But the savages, who it would seem were just then In their gay season, visit the island again,

With a larger repast

Than they brought with them last, For they number, this visit, full three score and ten ;

And to vary the thing,

Along with them they bring, -
To suit the particular taste of their king,

Who, in spite of their wishes,
Will have foreign dishes,-

From which, in the eatable way, it would seem
That the family was in no common esteem.
Robinson Crusoe now quite at his ease is,
Having three servants to do what he pleases.
But Friday, as well as his father, though freed
By his hand, a good drubbing still frequently need ;

And being a gourmand, 't is only by beating him,
And wringing his ears, he keeps Friday from eating him :
Of the father, though aged, he makes a good hack,
And takes daily an afternoon ride on his back.

An amiable Spaniard, of whom—to their shame
Be it spoken-they all have resolved to make game;
But Crusoe, determined on spoiling their pastime
Upon this occasion, as he did the last time,

Lets fly a great volley,

Just as they 're most jolly,
In hopes to persuade them to give up their folly,
And changes their fun into deep melancholy;
For they rush from the spot overwhelméd with dread,
Leaving two of their friends on the grass lying dead,
(While the parrots and Friday are terribly frightened,

Not used to proceedings so very enlightened),
And the Spaniard, about whom they all had such boasting,
Is saved, to his great satisfaction, from roasting.

But Friday, poor boy!

How great is his joy!
When he finds safe and sound his poor governor there,
Who was meant for a plate in their late bill of fare !



For the horrible act

But, after a while,

By some destiny vile
Which seems to await his unfortunate isle,

One morning, slap-bang!

A mutinous gang
Come ashore their unfortunate captain to hang;
And are cruelly dragging him off to a tree,
Determined his soul from his body to free,
When Robinson chances the rascals to see,

And, resolved upon fun,
He again takes his gun-
For white and black game

Are to him all the same-
And fires away at them ere one could say

“ done!" Which makes them as fast as the savages run;

While, hit by a shot,
The captain's brought suddenly to on the spot ;

Which they meant to transact, And addresses them thus with abundance of tact:“Fellow countrymen,-after so many long years Of absence, I scarce can refrain shedding tears At meeting, in this remote region of earth, So many whose land is the land of my birth : I came here a boy, and this beautiful isle Was then a mere solitude ;—that noble pile Was then unerected ;-in these remote parts There were no manufactures- no tillage—no arts ! By my sole exertions--I say it with prideBy my sole exertions these wants were supplied : And now look around on this prosperous isle, See arts, agriculture,- see everything smile ; No lawyers, no doctors, no landlords, no rents, No Corn-laws, no Sliding-scale, no Three-per-cents., No changing of coin, no vile clipping of gold, No charge upon getting new sovereigns for old ! No villanous workhouses—no Income-tax !Heaven help the poor wights who have that on their backs ! Am I wrong, friends, in saying that this is the spot Where those who seek happiness should cast their lot ? As for you, friends, you have been convicted, 't is true, Of a crime which perhaps would find pardon from few : The soil of old England once venture to tread, Ah! my friends, you 'll be hanged by the neck till your dead! But can I permit this—will I, who can save, Allow you to fill thus a premature grave ? Oh! no, my friends, no, take this island, take all, Far sooner than into so sad a trap fall. For myself, friends, my duty recalls me, alas ! To my country, a very few months there to pass ; Take the isle, then, and Heaven grant that all may go smack And merrily forwards until I come backAnd when I do, trust me, you 'll bless me each day, For treating you all in so handsome a way;

And the rest Crusoe follows

O'er hills and through hollows, And brings them at last to a sudden stand-still By threatening to fire from the top of a hill; When, finding they're quite at his mercy, they all Down on their knees to capitulate fall. Crusoe, perceiving these signs of submission, Thinks it just the right time to excite their contrition


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