Classic Poem

Fifty dusky Rommanis dressed so fine and grand, sir;
Fifty dusky Rommanis with money at command, sir,
A-meetin' and a-greetin' in the village one and all.
Half o' them was Smith and t'other half of 'em was Stanley,
Gipsies out and out, and dancers elegant and manly,
Comin' in the town to hire a place to give a ball.

Lots o' Gorgio people longed to see a sight so funny,
So they gave the dark-faced Gipsies pretty nearly all their money;
And the Rommanis they let the Gorgio gentry come inside.
The girls they was a dancin' and a laughin' and a hummin',
The grandmothers a chaffin', and the music band a strummin' —
Oh! to see another such a night as that I would ha' died.

The victuals they was first-rate, and the drink was first-rate, very;
And 'twasn't very long afore the boys and girls got merry;
And the sport it was the best you ever see, sir, I'll be bound.
Faster danced the ladies, and the fiddler fiddled faster,
Till the captain of the Stanleys and the Smiths' head man and master
Bumped one agin the other and was thrown upon the ground.

And then there was a shindy very quickly in the place, sir,
The Smith he gave the Stanley such a oner in the face, sir,
And their partners took to tearing one another by the hair.
Then the men of both the parties came up each to help his brother,
And the lads and lasses fought and all got mixed with one another,
And they left the dance and music and began to fight and swear.

Oh! the broken heads and black eyes which they got, sir, it was stunnin',
And the claret from their noses pretty freely was a runnin',
An' the pewters and the platters was a flyin' by your face.
The Gorgios ran away when the row had first arisen,
An' the bobbies they came runnin' up to take us all to prison —
You'd ha' said the very deuce was broken loose about the place.

When they all was tired o' fightin', the Smith he made a stand, sir,
And he come up to the other chap and shook him by the hand, sir,
And kissed him on the cheek and made it up for evermore.
Then they sent and fetched some more beer, and they give it to the Runners,
And they drank and danced again, until the mornin' broke, like oners,
And then they all fell down and went to sleep upon the floor.

Now that's what I should call a werry pleasant sort o' party,
For we'd beer, and made some money, and enjoyed our selves quite hearty,
And as for black eyes, why black eyes are pretty as you know!
For the row was only little, and the fun was werry great, sir,
Just like a pinch o' salt upon your bread, I calculate, sir,
And if you'll give another ball, why I am game to go.