The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, by Thomas Hood

Mary’s Ghost.

A Pathetic Ballad.

’Twas in the middle of the night,

To sleep young William tried,

When Mary’s ghost came stealing in,

And stood at his bedside.

O William dear! O William dear!

My rest eternal ceases;

Alas! my everlasting peace

Is broken into pieces.

I thought the last of all my cares

Would end with my last minute;

But though I went to my long home,

I didn’t stay long in it.

The body-snatchers they have come,

And made a snatch at me;

It’s very hard them kind of men

Won’t let a body be!

You thought that I was buried deep,

Quite decent-like and chary,

But from her grave in Mary-bone,

They’ve come and boned your Mary.

The arm that used to take your arm

Is took to Dr. Vyse;

And both my legs are gone to walk

The hospital at Guy’s.

I vowed that you should have my hand,

But fate gives us denial;

You’ll find it there, at Dr. Bell’s,

In spirits and a phial.

As for my feet, the little feet

You used to call so pretty,

There’s one, I know, in Bedford Row,

The t’other’s in the City.

I can’t tell where my head is gone,

But Doctor Carpue can;

As for my trunk, it’s all packed up

To go by Pickford’s van.

I wish you’d go to Mr. P.

And save me such a ride;

I don’t half like the outside place,

They’ve took for my inside.

The cock it crows — I must be gone!

My William, we must part!

But I’ll be yours in death, altho’

Sir Astley has my heart.

Don’t go to weep upon my grave,

And think that there I be;

They haven’t left an atom there

Of my anatomie.

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:55