Beans and Bacon (The Tale of Toby Toothpick)

(modified by Joe Lang on behalf of the WTP)

 

Tonight, Wilsonians, we intend to sing

Of Mister Toby Toothpick – once the king

Of jolly wits within a country town,

But now “hard set”, “done up” and “broken down”.

 

Three days had passed, and not a bit of victual

Had Toby tasted. Naught but watery spittle!

And scarcely two poor pennyworths of bread

(Poor soul!) to munch, some weeks was all he had.

 

Poor Toby wore a coat that once was black,

Upon his feet a slipper and a shoe.

At hide and seek the winds played through his back –

I mean through tattered coat and spare ribs too:

 

It was not far from Cambridge, Toby sat

Vainly endeavouring with a crooked pin

To tack the broken brim upon his hat

When he espied a paper next to him.

He looked inside it, and behold

Out peeped a heavenly angel – good as gold:

 

“A twenty-shilling Bank of England note!”

We’d all be glad, but Toby was ecstatic;

He leapt with grateful rapture, and forgot

His shoulders and knee joints were still rheumatic –

“Begone dull care”, was echoed from his throat,

Though lying out had made him quite asthmatic,

And as he stepped out, now resolved to dine,

He saw the King of Prussia on a sign.

 

‘Twas on a Saturday, and by the clock

Just five and twenty minutes after seven;

When Toby, entering, like a general spoke;

He called for “Ale!” - and straight the ale was given;

“A crust and cheese!” - ‘twas ate; “A pipe to smoke!”

He quaffed his ale and felt at once in heaven.

 

The bread and cheese were swallowed in a minute,

And made a hungry man more hungry still;

So Toby’s stomach like a starving linnet,

Chirped melancholy music; while to swill

The cold home-brewed, which had no substance in it,

Just whetted appetite.  Resolved to fill

Each craving crevice, next he bade them spread

For him a table, and prepare a bed.

 

Now Toby, though his garments were but mean,

Had something of the gentleman about him;

His manners plainly said that he had been

Something before dame Fortune chose to flout him.

And by the way, the landlady had seen

The Bank’s sure passport, and his change had brought him;

 

“Sir, supper’s ready”, said the smiling dame,

So to the groaning table Toby came.

And to a hungry man, a glorious sight

The King of Prussia’s parlour did afford;

In fact, the very essence of delight

And epicurean glory crowned the board; -

A goodly glass of brandy sparkly bright, -

A pint of ale (and much more we might record)

But last not least, adorning his tweens,

Appeared the bacon and the smoking beans.

 

By threes, by fours, the beans go one and all,

Slice after slice, the bacon disappears;

“Hunger to him”, cried Toby, “who would fall

on twenty shillings and to spend them fears,

Aye, and enjoy them!  Now I think I shall

Try the old lady’s Glo’ster”, and the tears

Dropped down his cheeks in consummate enjoyment,

His whole soul rapt in the sublime employment

Of satiating hunger!

 

Of the cheese

He ate till he was satisfied, and then

The ale he drank, and held his sides at ease;

(His vest had long been buttonless) and when

He had sipped-off the brandy – “If you please

You may remove the cloth and fill again

This glass, and bring the papers!” – Toby cried.

But nothing save bare plates mine hostess spied.

 

Cheese, beans and bacon, save a crust of bread

There was no solitary fragment left,

All, all were vanished, or devoured, or fled!

Wondering where she stood, awhile of speech bereft,

Mine hostess stared in silence, shook her head;

Thinking no doubt, it was a kind of theft

To pay for supper when she set it down,

And then devour the whole for half-a-crown;

Ale, brandy, all inclusive.

 

Toby said,

“My thanks, Madame,” and tottered off to bed.

Oblivious, he missed her looks forlorn;

Deeply he slept, and when the rising dawn

Did him next morning from his slumbers waken

He still was dreaming of his beans and bacon.

 

While yet he rubbed his eyes and lay at rest,

Blessing the mem’ry of the man unknown,

Who first invented beds to sleep upon(e),

Yea while half dreaming, feeling almost blest,

He heard mine hostlers in a fearful tone

Exclaim – “The note is forged! – Well!

– No! –  I never! –

He’s yet in bed – transport the wretch forever!”

 

“Forged!” cried Toby, springing from his bed,

He seized his trousers, high the window threw,

Leaped to the ground and all but naked fled!

But Toby’s flight was vain, fore ere he two

Short miles had run, he back again was led;

And bade to hope and liberty adieu.

In vain he vowed his innocence; and he

Fourteen long years was sent beyond the sea.

 

There still of beans and bacon did he dream, -

And there at length did fortune on him beam.

Nor long the convict’s hated garb he wore.

Wealthy he grew – and as his wealth increased,

Each year he held…

A BEANS AND BACON FEAST!