A Fine Old English Gentleman
I'll
sing
you
a
new
ballad,
and
I'll
warrant
it
first-rate,
Of
the
days
of
that
old
gentleman
who
had
that
old
estate;
When
they
spent
the
public
money
at
a
bountiful
old
rate
On
ev'ry
mistress,
pimp,
and
scamp,
at
ev'ry
noble
gate,
In
the
fine
old
English
Tory
times;
Soon
may
they
come
again!
The
good
old
laws
were
garnished
well
with
gibbets,
whips,
and
chains,
With
fine
old
English
penalties,
and
fine
old
English
pains,
With
rebel
heads,
and
seas
of
blood
once
hot
in
rebel
veins;
For
all
these
things
were
requisite
to
guard
the
rich
old
gains
Of
the
fine
old
English
Tory
times;
Soon
may
they
come
again!
This
brave
old
code,
like
Argus,
had
a
hundred
watchful
eyes,
And
ev'ry
English
peasant
had
his
good
old
English
spies,
To
tempt
his
starving
discontent
with
fine
old
English
lies,
Then
call
the
good
old
Yeomanry
to
stop
his
peevish
cries,
In
the
fine
old
English
Tory
times;
Soon
may
they
come
again!
The
good
old
times
for
cutting
throats
that
cried
out
in
their
need,
The
good
old
times
for
hunting
men
who
held
their
fathers'
creed,
The
good
old
times
when
William
Pitt,
as
all
good
men
agreed,
Came
down
direct
from
Paradise
at
more
than
railroad
speed.
.
.
.
Oh
the
fine
old
English
Tory
times;
When
will
they
come
again!
In
those
rare
days,
the
press
was
seldom
known
to
snarl
or
bark,
But
sweetly
sang
of
men
in
pow'r,
like
any
tuneful
lark;
Grave
judges,
too,
to
all
their
evil
deeds
were
in
the
dark;
And
not
a
man
in
twenty
score
knew
how
to
make
his
mark.
Oh
the
fine
old
English
Tory
times;
Soon
may
they
come
again!
Those
were
the
days
for
taxes,
and
for
war's
infernal
din;
For
scarcity
of
bread,
that
fine
old
dowagers
might
win;
For
shutting
men
of
letters
up,
through
iron
bars
to
grin,
Because
they
didn't
think
the
Prince
was
altogether
thin,
In
the
fine
old
English
Tory
times;
Soon
may
they
come
again!
But
Tolerance,
though
slow
in
flight,
is
strong-wing'd
in
the
main;
That
night
must
come
on
these
fine
days,
in
course
of
time
was
plain;
The
pure
old
spirit
struggled,
but
Its
struggles
were
in
vain;
A
nation's
grip
was
on
it,
and
it
died
in
choking
pain,
With
the
fine
old
English
Tory
days,
All
of
the
olden
time.
The
bright
old
day
now
dawns
again;
the
cry
runs
through
the
land,
In
England
there
shall
be
dear
bread
--
in
Ireland,
sword
and
brand;
And
poverty,
and
ignorance,
shall
swell
the
rich
and
grand,
So,
rally
round
the
rulers
with
the
gentle
iron
hand,
Of
the
fine
old
English
Tory
days;
Hail
to
the
coming
time!
Charles Dickens
Charles Dickens (born February 7, 1812, Portsmouth, Hampshire, England—died June 9, 1870, Gad’s Hill, near Chatham, Kent) English novelist, generally considered the greatest of the Victorian era. His many volumes include such works as A Christmas Carol, David Copperfield, Bleak House, A Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, and Our Mutual Friend. Dickens enjoyed a wider popularity during his lifetime than had any previous author. Much in his work could appeal to the simple and the sophisticated, to the poor and to the queen, and technological developments as well as the qualities of his work enabled his fame to spread worldwide very quickly.