The Cricket and Crab-Louse

TUNE - Derry, Down, Down. [DT-DERRYDWN]

As a crab-louse and flea went a hunting together,
They took shade in a rose from the heat of the weather;
This rose being fairer by far than the rest,
Was pluck'd by a lady and stuck in her breast.

These hunters, perceiving a fair, open track,
'Twixt two hills white as snow, took the road to her back;
Then descending all day, reach'd the valley by night,
Oh ho! says the flea, here's an inn, I'll alight.

And I, says the crab-louse, will pass through this gap,
And, without the expense of an inn, take my nap;
I see a small hovel, and at it I'll stay,
So onward he jogged, to go sleep in the hay.

Thus possess'd of the settlements, back and frontier,
They hoped from encroachments to keep themselves clear;
But both climate and foe had combin'd to annoy,
Nor would grant them a day their domains to enjoy.

For scarce had he taken one sip at his claret
When the tenement shook from cellar to garret;
Then a strange rumbling noise thro' the passage did roar,
Which drove the poor tippler behind the street door.

A sultry shower succeeded this storm,
Which drove him all drenched, like a hare from its form,
Thro' the smoking wet grass he was glad for to run,
And swore, while he liv'd, that damned inn he would shun.

In the morning he meets with the crab-louse, his friend,
And relates his adventure, and soon makes and end;
Now, with me, says the crab, still worse fortune took place;
When I tell you my sufferings you'll pity my case.

In the midst of my hay I discover'd a cave,
As deep as a coal-pit, as dark as a grave;
With black thorns, and brambles all growing about;
So I feared to go in, lest I should not get out.

Soon a giant approache'd me, a Cyclops, I ween,
For only one eye in his forehead was seen,
Who drove me from brier to bramble, full sore;
Then entering himself, he thrust me in before.

Tho' wide was the cave, he could hardly get in,
So in forcing the passage, he rubb'd off the skin;
Then he strain'd and he swell'd, and still bigger he grew,
Till forth from his forehead his brains at me flew.

Now the fray at an end, like a half-drowned mole,
I crept to the top, to peep out my hole;
And there I perceiv'd all at once with surprise,
This giant was sunk to a pigmean size.

So I slily slipt by, overjoy'd to escape,
For I dreaded him still, tho' so alter'd in shape;
And here I am come in the pickle you see,
And the devil himself may go lodge there for me.

Tho' if I might advise it, these borders he'll shun,
Where he'll meet with a giant, as sure as a gun,
Who vaulting our blades, nor of bullets a ---
Like the Romans, attacks with a huge battering-ram.

For just as I passed him, I saw at his back,
Two large ponderous paving-stones tied in a sack;
Ay, ay, cried the flea, that same sack did I see,
For oftimes with great vengeance he bang'd it at me.

But I manag'd so well that I kept out of reach
Of this terrible engine that batters in breach;
And now that these perils are over our heads,
I hope that we may peaceably die in our beds.

This song appeared in the 'Festival of Anacreon', 1789, and 'The Charms of Chearfullness' the same year, and appeared in the 1825, Dublin, edition of 'The Merry Muses'. I suspect it was inspired by "The Lowse's Peregrination" in the first of the drolleries, 'Musarum Deliciae', 1655.