The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, Volum 3Little, Brown, 1856 |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author, Volum 3 Thomas Hood Visualització completa - 1864 |
The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author ..., Volum 3 Thomas Hood Visualització completa - 1863 |
The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood: With Some Account of the Author ... Thomas Hood Visualització completa - 1871 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
arms bear a gun Bill blow blue BOATMAN brown comes cried dambally dead dear Devil door ducks DUGGINS eyes fancy Farewell fate fear folks friends ghost give going to Bombay hair hand hang head hear Hog's Norton horses HUGGINS John kissed Lady Little Boy little O'P live look Lord Lucy Bell Ma'am Macbeth meruit ferat Miss morning mother ne'er never night Nore nose Number o'er Oh Peace Old Bailey once Palmam qui meruit Perryan Peter Stone Phoebe play Pompey poor Reynard Sally scream seemed short and long sigh sing sister sleep Smithfield Sogers song stairs Staring stop sure Surrey sweet TATLER tell thee There's no Romance thing thou thought Trimmer Tunbridge turn Twas Undying walk Wapping wish yellow young Zounds
Passatges populars
Pàgina 230 - He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?
Pàgina 29 - Even is come ; and from the dark Park, hark, The signal of the setting sun — one gun ! And six is sounding from the chime, prime time To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain, — Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out, — Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade, Denying to his frantic clutch much touch...
Pàgina 13 - I never knew what a precious he was — but a child don't not feel like a child till you miss him. Why there he is ! Punch and Judy hunting, the young wretch, it's that Billy as sartin as sin ! But let me get him home, with a good grip of his hair, and I'm blest if he shall have a whole bone in his skin ! SKETCHES ON THE ROAD. THE OBSERVER. IT'S very strange," said the coachman, — looking at me over his left shoulder — " I never see it afore — but I've made three observations through life.
Pàgina 123 - Never go to France, Unless you know the lingo ; If you do, like me, You will repent by jingo ; Staring like a fool, And silent as a mummy, There I stood alone, A nation with a dummy ! OUR VILLAGE.— BY A VILLAGER.
Pàgina 151 - I who have shot and hit bulls' eyes, May chance to hit a sheep's. Now gold is oft for silver changed, And that for copper red ; But these two went away to give Each other change for lead. But first they...
Pàgina 125 - OUR village, that's to say not Miss Mitford's village, but our village of Bullock Smithy, Is come into by an avenue of trees, three oak pollards, two elders, and a withy ; And in the middle, there's a green of about not exceeding an acre and a half ; It's common to all, and fed off by nineteen cows, six ponies, three horses, five asses, two foals, seven pigs, and a calf! Besides a pond in the middle, as is held by a similar sort of common law lease...
Pàgina 30 - Sal, Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs. Now thieves to enter for your cash, smash, crash, Past drowsy Charley, in a deep sleep, creep, But frightened by Policeman B 3, flee, And while they're going, whisper low, "No go!
Pàgina 8 - Has ever a one seen any thing about the streets like a crying lost-looking child ? Lawk help me, I don't know where to look, or to run, if I only knew which way — A Child as is lost about London streets, and especially Seven Dials, is a needle in a bottle of hay. I am all in a quiver — get out of my sight, do, you...
Pàgina 124 - Moo ! I cried for milk ; I got my sweet things snugger, When I kissed Jeannette, 'Twas understood for sugar. If I wanted bread, My jaws I set a-going, And asked for new-laid eggs By clapping hands and crowing ! v.
Pàgina 232 - ... of a young sparrow ; or liker to the matin lark should I pronounce them, in their aerial ascents not seldom anticipating the sun-rise ? I have a kindly yearning toward these dim specks — poor blots — innocent blacknesses.