Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes:

 By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage.

It's nigh my last above the daisies:

My next leaf'll be man's blank page.

Yes, my oId girl! and it's no use crying:

Juggler, constable, king, must bow.

One that out juggles all's been spying

Long to have me, and he has me now.

 

I've murdered insects with mock thunder:

Conscience, for that, in men don't quail.

I've made bread from the bump of wonder:

That's my business, and there's my tale.

Fashion and rank all praised the professor:

Ay! and I've had my smile from the Queen:

Bravo, Jerry! she meant: God bless her!

Ain't this a sermon on that scene?

We've traveled times to this old common

Often we've hung our pots in the gorse.

We've had a stirring life, old woman!

You, and I, and the old gray horse.

Races, and fairs, and royal occasions,

Found us coming to their call:

Now they'll miss us at our stations:

There's a Juggler out juggles all!

I've studied men from my topsy-turvy

Close, and, I reckon, rather true.

Some are fine fellows: some, right scurvy:

Most, a dash between the two.

But it's a woman, old girl, that makes me

Think more kindly of the race:

And it's a woman, old girl, that shakes me

When the Great Juggler I must face.

 

Up goes the lark, as if all were jolly!

Over the duck-pond the willow shakes.

Easy to think that grieving's folly,

When the hand's firm as driven stakes!

Ay, when we're strong, and braced, and manful,

Life's a sweet fiddle: but we're a batch

Born to become the Great Juggler's han'ful:

Bails he shies up, and is safe to catch.

 

We two were married due and legal:

Honest we've lived since we've been one.

Lord! I could then jump like an eagle:

You danced bright as a bit o' the sun.

Birds in a May-bush we were! right merry!

All night we kissed, we juggled all day.

Joy was the heart of Juggling Jerry!

Now from this old girl he's juggled away.

Here's where the lads of the village cricket:

I was a lad not wide from here:

Couldn't I whip off the bale from the wicket?

Like an old world those days appear!

Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatched ale-house ­I know them!

They are old friends of my halts, and seem,

Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them:

Juggling don't hinder the heart's esteem.

Juggling's no sin, for we must have victual:

Nature allows us to bait for the fool.

Holding one's own makes us juggle no little;

But, to increase it, hard juggling's the rule.

You that are sneering at my profession,

Haven't you juggled a vast amount?

There's the Prime Minister, in one Session,

Juggles more games than my sins'll count.