They came at night, and did surround
My humble dwelling whilst I slept—
And I awoke, and heard a sound
Of feet, as if they softly crept;
And then a firmer foot there stept;
And then I heard a number more,
As if a marching pace they kept—
I guess'd there might be a score,
And then they knock'd at my door.

'Awake, my love,' I softly said—
'Awake! the enemy is near;
'Come, kiss me—do not be afraid,
'A wife of mine should never fear—
'Arise, and dress yourself, my dear:
'These fellows do not brook delays,
'Here is your petticoat, and here
'Your bed-gown, handkerchief, and stays—
'For me, love, I can 'bide their gaze.'

'Open the door,' a ruffian cried
'Open, or I will break it down;'
'Break and be damn'd,' I straight replied,
But I should not have sworn, I own,
Besides, 'tis out of fashion grown;
'Until I find my clogs or shoes,
'For all the butchers of your town,'
That bar of mine I will not loose,
'So break away, sir, if you choose.'

And so we huddled on our clothes—
And, as I fumbled about,
The ruffian swore a thousand oaths—
(Joey can turn some rare ones out)—
And when, at length, the door I sought,
And took my trusty bar away,
There was a staggering, methought,
Amongst the police gentry,
Which seemed rather cowardly.

But in they came—a mighty rout
Of thief-catchers and soldiers brave,
(Our British red-coats ever ought
A gallant character to have—
You know they did the country save,
And our religion, and our right);
The very dogs of war, who gave
The troops of France so keen a bite,
When they at Waterloo did fight.

And Joey rummagad every drawer,
And every box within his ken:
Bless us, thought I, what mighty power
The Lord hath given to some men;
And whilst he scratched like a hen,
What should a sinner do like me,
But mutter, piously, amen!
And bend me low and reverently,
For 'God ordains the powers that be.'

Yes, that is what I should have done—
But, ah! how prone to err are we,
For with contempt I looked upon
Joey and his authority,
Whilst, coolly and deliberately,
Papers he packed up, and books—
And then a smile he cast on me,
And one of those sardonic looks,
Which hell grins in her darkest nooks.

He found some Cobbetts—and, what's more,
A weaver's tie-up, and a draught—
(And as he wisely conn'd them o'er,
He shook his head, and then I laugh'd)
A sugar cane, perhaps for shaft
Of pike, the cavalry to gore—
A book about the weaving craft,
A pair of breeches, torn before,
And Statesman newspapers a score.

A stocking, and a cloven clog,
A pair of shoes the worse for wear;
The kennel, in which lay my dog
But Joey never groped there,
Poor Mora would have bit the bear:
A spoon, a platter, and a knife,
Some articles of crockery ware,
Though they were not so very rife,
A cap belonging to my wife.

And now for what he did not find—
He found no beef, he found no beer,
No crumb of bread of any kind,
No coffee, tea, or sugar near,
No crusted wines, the soul to cheer,
No brandy, rum, nor any gin,
So that there was but little fear,
Of me betaking to that sin
Which caught old Noah in its grin.

Nor did he find my trusty sword,
A friend had taken it away;
My pike and gun were safely stor'd,
And so had been for many a day—
My pistols incognito lay,
Beyond both Joey's reach and mine—
My letters and my poetry,
Which would have been a prize divine.
Whew! there was not a single line.

Nor did he even find at length
My golden letter'd banner gay,
Inscribed, 'UNITY AND STRENGTH'—
(John Gartside bore it gallantly,
Throughout the fatal meeting day),
Stitched in a damsel's petticoat,
Without the range of thought it lay—
O, it again shall proudly float,
When freedom sounds her clarion note.

I cock'd my finger by my nose,
And winked at the busy fool;
The daft ones, how could they suppose
That I, who'd been before at school,
Should not have learnt a better rule
Than leave these things within their grip.
I should have been a stupid mule
To suffer nine whole days to slip,
And not for action clear my ship.