SIR GUY THE CRUSADER.

Sir Guy was a doughty crusader,

A muscular knight,

Ever ready to fight,

A very determined invader.

And Dickey de Lion's delight.

Lenore was a Saracen maiden,

Brunette, statuesque,

The reverse of grotesque;

Her pa was a bagman at Aden,

Her mother she played in burlesque.

A coryphee pretty and loyal.

In amber and red,

The ballet she led;

Her mother performed at the Royal,

Lenore at the Saracen's Head.

Of face and of figure majestic,

She dazzled the cits —

Ecstaticized pits;—

Her troubles were only domestic,

But drove her half out of her wits.

Her father incessantly lashed her,

On water and bread

She was grudgingly fed;

Whenever her father he thrashed her

Her mother sat down on her head.

Guy saw her, and loved her, with reason,

For beauty so bright,

Set him mad with delight;

He purchased a stall for the season

And sat in it every night.

His views were exceedingly proper;

He wanted to wed,

So he called at her shed

And saw her progenitor whop her —

Her mother sit down on her head.

“So pretty,” said he, “and so trusting!

You brute of a dad,

You unprincipled cad,

Your conduct is really disgusting.

Come, come, now, admit it's too bad!

“You're a turbaned old Turk, and malignant;

Your daughter Lenore

I intensely adore

And I cannot help feeling indignant,

A fact that I hinted before.

“To see a fond father employing

A deuce of a knout

For to bang her about.

To a sensitive lover's annoying.”

Said the bagman, “Crusader, get out!”

Says Guy, “Shall a warrior laden

With a big spiky knob.

Stand idly and sob.

While a beautiful Saracen maiden

Is whipped by a Saracen snob?

“To London I'll go from my charmer.”

Which he did, with his loot

( Seven hats and a flute ),

And was nabbed for his Sydenham armor,

At Mr. Ben-Samuel's suit.

Sir Guy he was lodged in the Compter,

Her pa, in a rage,

Died ( do n't know his age ),

His daughter, she married the prompter,

Grew bulky and quitted the stage.