THE DESERTED INN.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 338, 30 May 1885, Page 3

THE DESERTED INN.

Baron— "Doit thirst, iirrah ? Varlet — Ay, marry, my lord, that I do. Baron — Get thee to a quenchery. (Guerdons him.) Old F£a.t.

Sad rain ! Woful scene of pleasures past ! Tenantlees, licenseless, with sign out-worn ; Who but a stern teetotaller could cast Unpitying eyes upon thy state forlorn ? No .more snail barman brisk aud barmaid smart Smile on thy patrons, growing drank around ; The while mine host, in cellar, far apart, Doctors his liquors with a skill profound : Mixing the verdant vitriol with gin, And eke with beer the thirst-provoking salt ; Quassia, molasses, eoccttlus, stirr'd in With water, much improve the tasto of malt, No stalwart workmen to thy bar shall flock, To spend their weekly " screw " in getting " sctewed ;" Thence taking home a sadly-dwindled stock, thereby domestic want and feud. No more shall billiard-ball or bagatelle, With 'fluke ' and ' cannon,' strike upon the ear, Nor through the street the tap room chorus swell From mingled voices indistinct with beer. Never again will friends long-parted meet Within thy walls to drink each other's health ; Nor sharpers bring some noodle from the street,By ' confidence > to trick him of his wealth. The blacken'd banjo-man shall never more Charm thee with nigger melody and wit ; Nor imps and rowdies cluster round thy door, To chaff a woman in a drunken fit. Yes, all these sweet and varied joys have fled . From thee — sad type of ruin and despair; So, with a sigh, I turn away my head : The • George ' is open — s'pose we go iv there?