Mary's Ghost. A Pathetic Ballad.

by Thomas Hood

'Twas in the middle of the night,
   To sleep young William tried,
When Mary's ghost came stealing in,
   And stood at his bed-side.

O William dear ! O William dear !
   My rest eternal ceases;
Alas ! my everlasting peace
   Is broken into pieces.

I thought the last of all my cares
   Would end with my last minute;
But tho' I went to my long home,
   I didn't stay long in it.

The body-snatchers they have come,
   And made a snatch at me;
It's very hard them kind of men
   Won't let a body be !

You thought that I was buried deep,
   Quite decent like and chary,
But from her grave in Mary-bone
   They've come and boned your Mary.

The arm that used to take your arm
   Is took to Dr. Vyse;
And both my legs are gone to walk
   The hospital at Guy's.

I vow'd that you should have my hand,
   But fate gives us denial;
You'll find it there, at Doctor Bell's,
   In spirits and a phial.

As for my feet, the little feet
   You used to call so pretty,
There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,
   The t'other's in the city.

I can't tell where my head is gone,
   But Doctor Carpue can:
As for my trunk, it's all pack'd up
   To go by Pickford's van.

I wish'd you'd go to Mr. P.
   And save me such a ride:
I don't half like the outside place,
   They've took for my inside.

The cock it crows—I must be gone !
   My William, we must part !
But I'll be yours in death, altho'
   Sir Astley has my heart.

Don't go to weep upon my grave,
   And think that there I be;
They haven't left an atom there
   Of my anatomie.