Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW; SUNG BY MR. MATTHEWS FOR THE SPRING MEETING, by THOMAS HOOD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW; SUNG BY MR. MATTHEWS FOR THE SPRING MEETING, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: How well I remember the ninth of november
Last Line: All, all to see the lord mayor's show.
Subject(s): Cities; Festivals; Mayors; Urban Life; Fairs; Pageants


SUNG BY MR. MATTHEWS FOR THE SPRING MEETING.

I.

HOW well I remember the ninth of November,
The sky very foggy, the Sun looking groggy,
In fact altogether pea-soup coloured weather.
Shop-windows all shuttered, the pavement all buttered,
Policemen paraded, the street barricaded,
And a peal from the steeple of Bow!
Low women in pattens, high ladies in satins,
And Cousin Suburbans, in flame-coloured turbans,
Quite up to the attics, inviting rheumatics,
A great mob collecting, without much selecting,
And some, it's a pity, are free of the City,
As your pockets may happen to know!
Such hustle and bustle, and mobbing and robbing,
All, all to see the Lord Mayor's Show!

II.

How well I remember the ninth of November,
Six trumpets on duty, as shrill as Veluti,
A great City Marshal, to riding not partial,
The footmen, the state ones, with calves very great ones,
The Cook and the Scullion, well basted with bullion,
And the squad of each Corporate Co.
Four draymen from Perkins, in steel and brass jerkins,
A Coach like a lantern, I wonder it can turn,
All carved like old buildings, and drawn by six gildings,
With two chubby faces, where sword and where mace is,
The late Mayor, the Ex one, a thought that must vex one.
And the new Mayor just come into blow!
Such hustle and bustle, and mobbing and robbing,
All, all to see the Lord Mayor's Show.

III.

How well I remember the ninth of November,
The fine Lady Mayoress, an Ostrich's heiress,
In best bib and tucker, and dignified pucker,
The learned Recorder, in Old Bailey order,
The Sheriffs together, -- with their hanging weather,
And their heads like John Anderson's pow!
The Aldermen courtly, and looking 'red port'ly,
And buckler and bargemen, with other great large men,
With streamers and banners, held up in odd manners,
A mob running "arter," to see it by "vater,"
And the Wharfs popping off as they go!
Such hustle and bustle, such mobbing and robbing,
All, all to see the Lord Mayor's Show.





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