Nick Razorblade a barber was,
A _strapping_ lad was he;
And he could shave with such a grace,
It was a joy to see!
And tho' employ'd within his house,
He kept like rat in hole;
All those that pass'd the barber's door,
Could always see his _pole_!
His dress was rather plain than rich,
Nor fitted over well;
Yet, tho' no _macaroni_, Nick,
He often _cut a swell_!
And Nick was brave, and he could fight,
As many times he proved;
A lamb became a lion fierce,
Whenever he was moved!
Like many of his betters, who
To field with pistols rush,
When Nicky _lather'd_ any one,
He was obliged to _brush_!
Some say Nick was a brainless _block_,
While those who've seen him waving
His bright sharp razor, o'er scap'd chins,
Declare he was a _shaving_!
His next door neighbour, Nelly Jones,
A maid of thirty-eight,
'Twas said regarded Nick with smiles,
But folks will always prate.
'Tis known in summer time that she,
(A maid and only daughter)
To show her love for Razorblade,
Kept Nicky in _hot water_!
For politics Nick always said,
He never cared a fig;
Quoth he:--"If I a Tory were,
I likewise _wear a wig_!"
No poacher he, yet _hairs_ he _wired_,
With skill that made maids prouder;
And though he never used a gun,
He knew the use of _powder_!
He never took offence at words,
However broad or blunt;
But when maids brought a _front_ to dress,
Of course he took a _front_!
Beneath his razor folks have slept,
So easy were they mown;
Yet (oh! most passing strange it was!)
His _razor_ was his _own_!
Nick doubtless had a tender heart,
But not for Nelly Jones;
He made Miss Popps "bone of his bone,"
But never made old bones!
He died and left an only son,
A barber too by trade;
But when they ope'd his will, they found
A cruel will he'd made.
And doubtless he was raving mad,
(To slander I'm unwilling)
For tho' a _barber_, Nicky cut
His _heir_ off with _a shilling!_
_Absurdities: in Prose and Verse_._
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