AH little ranting Johnny,

For ever blithe and bonny,

And singing nonny, nonny,
With hat just thrown upon ye;
Or whistling like the thrushes
With voice in silver gushes;

Or twisting random posies

With daisies, weeds, and roses;

And strutting in and out so,

Or dancing all about so,

With cock-up nose so lightsome,

And sidelong eyes so brightsome,
And cheeks as ripe as apples,
And head as rough as Dapple's,
And arms as sunny shining

As if their veins they'd wine in;
And mouth that smiles so truly,
Heav'n seems to have made it newly,

It breaks into such sweetness

With merry-lipped completeness;—

Ah Jack, ah Gianni mio,

As blithe as Laughing Trio,

Sir Richard, too, you rattler, So christened from the Tatler,

My Bacchus in his glory,

My little Cor-di-fiori,

My tricksome Puck, my Robin,

Who in and out come bobbing,

As full of feints and frolic ast

That fibbing rogue Autolycus,

And play the graceless robber on

Your grave-eyed brother Oberon,—

Ah! Dick, ah Dolce-riso,

How can you, can you be so?

One cannot turn a minute,

But mischief-there you're in it,

A getting at my books, John,

With mighty bustling looks, John;

Or poking at the roses,

In midst of which your nose is;

Or climbing on a table,

No matter how unstable,

And turning up your quaint eye

And half-shut teeth with "Mayn't I?”

Or else you're off at play, John,

Just as you'd be all day, John,

With hat or not, as happens,

And there you dance, and clap hands,

Or on the grass go rolling,

Or plucking flow'rs, or bowling,

And getting me expenses

With losing balls o'er fences;

Or, as the constant trade is,

Are fondled by the ladies,

With "What a young rogue this is!"

Reforming him with kisses;

Till suddenly you cry out,

As if you had an eye out,
So desperately tearful,

The sound is really fearful;

When lo! directly after,

It bubbles into laughter.

Ah rogue! and do you know, John,

Why 'tis we love you so, John?

And how it is they let ye

Do what you like, and pet ye,

Though all who look upon ye

Exclaim" Ah, Johnny, Johnny!"

It is because you please 'em

Still more, John, than you teaze 'em ;
Because, too, when not present,

The thought of you is pleasant;
Because, though such an elf, John,
They think that if yourself, John,
Had something to condemn too,
You'd be as kind to them too:

In short, because you're very
Good-temper'd, Jack, and merry;

And are as quick at giving,

As easy at receiving;

And in the midst of pleasure

Are certain to find leisure

To think, my boy, of ours,

And bring us lumps of flowers.

But see, the sun shines brightly,

Come, put your hat on rightly,

And we'll among the bushes,

And hear your friends the thrushes;