Chapter V

The morning comes; the small birds sing;
The sun shines out like--anything;
Jack speeds the son of Britain's King,
The heavier by full many a wing
And leg of pullet, on his way,
And many a slice of ham and tongue,
Whereon the heroes, bold and young,
As by good right, I should have sung,
Did breakfast on that day.

And then he seeks the Giant's cell,
Forgetting not to cram him well,
How he had plied the foe with prog,
Disarmed his wrath by dint of grog,
And, at the head of all his men,
Had sent him reeling home again.

The Giant was pleased as Punch might be,
And he capered about with clumsy glee
(It was a comical sight to see),--

Very like unto a whale
When he founders a skiff with his frolicksome tail.

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Then he cocked his big eye with a playful wink,
And roared out, "What 'll you take to drink?"
"Well," Jack replied, "I 'll tell you what,
I think I should n't mind a pot;
But, nunky,--could you be so kind?-
I wish I had those traps behind
The nest wherein you take your nap:-
That seedy coat and tattered cap;
That ancient sword, of blade right rusty;
And those old high-lows all so dusty,
That look as though for years they'd been
In pop-shop hung, or store marine;
No other meed I ask than those,
So _may_ I have the sword and clothes? "
"Jack," said the Giant, "yes, you may,
And let them be a keepsake, pray;
They 're queer, and would n't suit a 'gent;'
But what to use is ornament?
The sword will cut through hardest stuff,
The cap will make you up to snuff,--
Worth something more than 'eight and six,'--
The shoes will carry you like 'bricks,'
At pace outspeeding swiftest stalkers-
(They were a certain Mr. Walker's);
The coat excels art's best results,
Burckhardt outvies, out-Stultzes Stultz;
No mortal man, whate'er his note,
Was ever seen in such a coat;
For when you put it on your shoulders
You vanish, straight, from all beholders!"
"Well, hang it! surely you, old chap,
Had not got on your knowing cap
When you proposed last night to hide,
Or _you_ the magic coat had tried:
You might have strapped it on your back
So thought, but said not, cunning Jack,
Thanked his three-headed relative,
And toddled, whistling "Jack's Alive."