Punch: Punch (36.1859)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 26. 1859.

MODERATION.

First Undergraduate. "Hollo, Charley! ain't yott Going Out to-day?"

Second Undergraduate {driving). " Why no—not this morning. You see I'm only a One Horse Man, and as I have Hunted

HIM THREE times this week, i thought I'd give him a Day's rest in a dog-cart ! "

" TEN, CROWN OFFICE ROW."
a GTrmplav's Krtbutf.

" There is another block of old houses in the Temple now condemned, which are
said to be upwards of 200 years old. They form what is called Crown Office Row.
Their destruction will commence forthwith."—Daily Pape>:

They were fusty, they were musty, they were grimv, dull and dim,

The paint scaled off the panelling, the stairs were all untrim;

The flooring creaked, the windows gaped, the door-posts stood awry;

The wind whipt round the corner with a wild and wailing cry.

In a dingier set of chambers no man need wish to stow,

Than those, old friend, wherein we denned, in Ten, Crown Office Row.

But we were young, if they were old, we never cared a pin,

So the windows kept the rain out, and let the sunshine in ;

Our stout hearts mocked the crazy roofs, our hopes bedecked the wall;

We were happy, we were hearty, strong to meet what might befall;

Will sunnier hours be ever ours, than those which used to go,

Gay to their end, my dear old friend, in Ten, Crown Office Row ?

We were two sucking barristers ; briefs few and far between,
Upon our reading-tables, in their red-tape bonds, were seen ;
But we had friends, and we had books, a pewter, pipes and weeds,
And tin enough to pay our way, or credit for our needs;
And so we doffed the world aside—gave Father Care to know;
Go where he might, he must not light in Ten, Crown Office Row.

Narrow and dark the Clerk's room ; our kitchen 'twas, as well •
Whence a pleasant sound of frizzling at breakfast time befell.
Narrow and dark the bed-rooms, where we snored and splashed and
sung,

Each in his tub, and took the rub of life with sinews strung.

Where we parted, in the small hours, friends, with a glad " good night,"

^hsre the struggling sunshine found us, still friends, at morning light:

Glad morning times, glad midnight chimes, come b?ck from long ago,
Peopling apace the dear old place, in Ten, Crown Office Row.

Those merry Sunday breakfasts—they never could be wrong—
When you made such scrumptious toast, and I brewed the ten so
strong.

Were ever sausages like those from Tucker's famous shop ?
Where could the sheep have grazed whose loins produced our special
chop ?

And then the lounge and weed, with the Garden green below,

.And the Thames all smile and sparkle, past Ten, Crown Office Row.

You remember those queer dinners—from the Rainbow and from

Dick's?

That great day of Kabbbs—with fair hands to cut the sticks ?
How deftly those white fingers on the skewers disposed the meat-
Till, for pleasure in the cooking, we scarcely cared to eat.
I've often since dined a la Russe, with G. H. M.—but, oh,
What are his dinners to those meals in Ten, Crown Office Row ?

Those scrambling, screaming dinners, where all was frolic-fun,
From the eager clerks who rushed about, like bullet out of gun,
To the sore-bewildered laundress, with Soyer's shilling book
Thrust, of a sudden, in her hand, and straightway bade to cook.
What silver laughs, what silver songs, from those old walls would flow,
Could they give out all they drank in at Ten, Crown Office Row!

Some of those tuneful voices will never sound again,

And some of them will read these bnes, far o'er the Indian main;

And smiles will come to some wan lips, tears to some sunken eyes,

To think of all these lines recall of Temple memories;

And thev will sigh, as we have sighed, to learn the bringing low,

Of those old chambers, dear old friend, in Ten, Crown Office Row.

And one whose voice awaked the song, whose hand awaked the strings,
One of our guests, in those old rooms, even now beside me sine's: