THE BLANKET MERCHANT.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume V, Issue 360, 13 January 1849, Page 3

THE BLANKET MERCHANT.

The Blanket Merchant sat on a stool And wielded a pen in his hand ; He rummag'd his brains like a boy at school, Who's puzzl'd with some arithmetical rule Which he cannot understand. The Blanket Merchant sat a while In silent contemplation ; At last he grinn'd a ghostly smile, And said he'd write in Chaldee style A tale of his own creation. So the Blanket Merchant seiz'd the paper, And ground his teeth like flint ; For he knew his factious friends would caper, When they heard the portly Linen Draper Was coming out in print. Now the Blanket Merchant cast up his eye With a look of great derision ; But quickly, alas ! he look'd down with a sigh, For a palpable fact, which he could not deny, Obtruded itself on his vision. The Blanket Merchant saw a sight Most painful to behold ; He would rather have met with a ghost at night, Than view with his eyes in broad daylight Red Blankets yet unsold. So the Blanket Merchant's anger rose, He fum'd with indignation ; His cheeks became crimson, and so did his nose, And he swore he'd have revenge on those Who caus'd him this vexation. For the Blanket Merchant had chanc'd to see The Council table-covers ; And he said that surely there must be Some unfair play, or why should he Not share alike with others ? So the Blanket Merchant's anger fell On all the Nominees, — On Hickson, Moore, and Dillon Bell : Because his Blankets did not sell He raises such a breeze. Toddy Tarn.