Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3808/The Walkers

by R. C. Lehmann

THE WALKERS.

There were eight pretty walkers who went up a hill;
They were Jessamine, Joseph and Japhet and Jill,
And Allie and Sally and Tumbledown Bill,
  And Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

They were all in good training and all of them keen,
And their chief wore a coat and a waistcoat of green;
He was always a proud man and kept himself clean,
  Did Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

They intended to lunch when they got to the top
On a sandwich apiece and a biscuit and chop.
The provisions were carefully bought in a shop
  By Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

They were jesters of merit—the sort who can poke
Funny tales in your ribs till you splutter and choke;
But the best of the lot at a jibe or a joke
  Was Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

It was ten of the clock when the walking began,
And they started with Tumbledown Bill in the van:
And the rear was brought up by that excellent man,
  By Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

They went off at a pace I am bound to deplore,
For they did twenty yards in a minute or more
And a yard or two over, a capital score
  For Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

They had all that pedestrians fairly can ask:
Smooth roads, sunny weather and beer in a cask,
And a friend who could teach them to stick to their task,
  Viz.: Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

Yet I somehow suppose that they hadn't the knack,
For in spite of it all they have never come back,
And I own that the future looks dismally black
  For Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.

Now the walkers who seem to be stuck on the hill,
They are Jessamine, Joseph and Japhet and Jill,
And Allie and Sally and Tumbledown Bill,
  And Farnaby Fullerton Rigby.
R. C. L.

 

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