That ancient plate of willow-pattern blue, Which so absorbed had my every thought, I seemed to live thereon, and slowly grew If you're waking, call me early, mother, fine, or wet, or bleak; To-morrow is the happiest day of all the Ascot week; And whiter gloves, that have been cleaned, and smell of turpentine ; But none so nice as mine, I know, and so they all will say ; And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not shout at my bedside, and give me a good shake; For I have got those gloves to trim with blonde and ribbons gay, And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may. As I came home to-day, mother, whom think you I should meet, But Harry-looking at a cab, upset in Oxford Street; He thought of when we met, to learn the Polka of Miss Rae They say he wears moustachios, that my chosen he may be ; The night cabs come and go, mother, with panes of mended glass, And all the things about us seem to clatter as they pass; The weather-glass hung in the hall has turned to "fair" from "showers." The sea-weed crackles and feels dry, that's hanging 'midst the flowers, Vauxhall, too, is not open, so 'twill be a fine, fine day; may. So call me, if you're waking; call me, mother, from my rest The "Middle Horticultural" is sure to be the best. II. THE DAY AFTER. [Slow, and with sad expression.] If you're waking, call me early; call me early, mother dear; I have been wild and wayward, but I am not wayward now, arm; But the bad weather ruined all, and spoilt my toilet's charm. I'll wear the dress again, mother; I do not care a pin,- So, if you're waking, call me, when the day begins to dawn; I dread to look at my barege-it must be so forlorn ; year; So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear Light Green, a magazine published at Cam. bridge, in 1872, contained another parody of the same original, it is called "The May Dream," |