Let not your expectation rise
To palaces that reach the skies;
For if there's no firm basis found,
Your house may tumble to the ground;
And if you yield the world some fun,
Be worse than when you first begun.

And, gentle Reader, pray don't you
Despise my tale because 'tis true.

The numerous Fletchers race we'll hail,
To form a short and curious tale.
Father and mother rise to view;
We'll bring six handsome daughters too.
But only one bright son you'll see;
'Hope of the family' was he.

No crooked name my pen shall forge;
Then, if you please we'll call him George--
For why should we expunge a name
Which pure from his god-fathers came?

Of all the tribe the street contain,
They stood the first in Walker Lane;
By trade were bakers of renown
Chief of the craft in Derby town.

The dough the ladies moulded true;
The pious father set and drew;
While a choice stall of sweet-meats were
Consign'd alone to George's care.

The sight, the scene, of this repast,
Made the observers long to taste;
Who, though unable were to buy,
Would lick their lips, and gladly try.
George found he'd customers enough;
His stick would barely keep them off.
He gives sufficient cause to teaze,
Who sets his honey before bees.
Nay quickly finds they'll sorrow bring him,
Not only rob him, but they'll sting him.

The mother's darling, this great boy
Was all-accomplish'd in her eye;
For when she look'd within, without,
Not one defect could she find out.
Horse, child, and dog, will bear the test,
Are by each owner counted best.

Back'd by the mother, in our case,
He chose to Hector all the race:
Thus they were govern'd by a boor,
Much like a boat without an oar.

But there were wicked people found,
Who christen'd George 'An awkward Hound;'
And said, 'if you his dress descry,
You'd think he'd recent left the sty.'

His limbs were strong, but far from limber;
One half his head, they thought, was timber;
While others thought, but could not see,
'One half a vacuum might be.'
Others precisely calculate,
'His two ends were of equal weight.'

The boys surround his stall, and stare
Both on the market-day and fair;
As if they'd eat up what he said;
But really eat his ginger-bread.
And when he drove them three yards off,
They, at his elocution, scoff.
The pickle rogues, so fond to joke too,
Never regarded whom they spoke to.

'George, on your stall what profit's found;
Twice seven ounces make a pound.
Fifteen and fifteen pence (now speak)
Exactly will three shillings make--
No, two times eighteen pence, I own,
Will make exactly half-a-crown.'

The mother thought her son disgrac'd--
'The saucy brutes are void of taste.
Go, George, and dress you out of hand;
These charms no lady can withstand;
For if at thousands they essay,
Thousands they'll quickly bring away.
You shall set out when you've done dinner--
Address Miss Pole--you're sure to win her.
One hundred thousand pounds in hand!
This fortune you will soon command.'

Dinner and George met at the table;
He ate as quick as he was able;
Nay, he could scarcely wait for grace;
Good fortune star'd him in the face.

Black, on his boots, was made appear;
The only black of half a year.
But spurs, when they were brought to view,
Carried exactly the same hue;
And though he rubb'd them with great care,
The rogues would not a polish bear.
However, George no torment feels;
His head must win the fair--not heels.

Madam his stock plac'd in a trice;
Adjusted his fair bosom nice;
Hat, cock-and-pinch, which you'd perceive
Was wip'd quite clean with his coat-sleeve.
Thus harmony bless'd one another;
For here one garment clean'd his brother.
That none might from perfection fall,
The household-brush compleated all.

He took his whip--the lash was gone
George Hickinbottom put one on.

THE SECOND PART

Or right or wrong we peace shall find,
If we can satisfy the mind.

Improv'd at least fifteen per cent.
The horse and man a courting went;
For, in this point, we all agree;
The horse could plead as well as he;
Nor can we say, if brought to test,
Which of the two was second-best.

Now George for Radburn shap'd his way--
The boys but thrice cried out--huzza!
A rising stile will reverence draw,
And strike the saucy things with awe.
Perhaps George thought, perhaps did not;
Howe'er, to Radburn Hall he got;
Survey'd himself above, below;
Adjusted all, from top to toe;
Then boldly to the great door trips;
Prim'd well his mouth; moisten'd his lips;
To give admission servants strive all;
Eager announcing his arrival.
They introduce him soon as come,
Into the lady's sitting room.

'Your servant, Ma'am,' the lover cries.
'Your servant, Sir,' the fair replies.
'I'm not appriz'd, Sir, who you be.
But pray what's your request with me?'

'A loving wife I mean to take you;
And a good husband mean to make you.
I've got three trades--their profit's great;
Exclusive of a good estate.
The baking business I hold fast,
Can do the work from first to last.

A second trade--besides a baker,
Of ginger-bread I am the maker.
I am too, which will crown them all, a
Confectioner--and keep a stall.' 'Ah!'
'These great advantages you'll see,
My Lady, and accept of me.'

George waited for a little while--
The lady then return'd a smile--

'Sir, for the present, you may go,
And take refreshment here below.
You still may follow up your trade--
I'll think upon the offer made;
And if my fortune, which you scan,
Will not procure a gentleman,
No other lover shall pursue,
Depend upon't I'll send for you.'

George saw good fortune in her stile--
' She first receiv'd me with a smile
What reason then have I to fear;
A promise too brought up the rear.'

The servants thought they smelt an ass,
And ply'd him plenteous with the glass.
As briskly as the liquor move,
They briskly fill his head with love;
Till on the ground was seen to be
Hope of his numerous family.

Depriv'd of action, it was said,
They clubb'd to drag him up to bed;
He snor'd aloud till five o'clock--
Was waken'd by the crowing cock;
Then sneak'd away, no soul could doubt it,
And you'll peruse six lines about it.
He left in bed a curious--hold--
It was not silver, neither gold.
Like garden fruit, a little mellow;
Something between a brown and yellow.
'Twas what a chamber-maid would yell at;
As neither fit to taste nor smell at.