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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538974" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Peter the Wag</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">POLICEMAN PETER FORTH I drag<br>From his obscure retreat:<br>He was a merry genial wag,<br>Who loved a mad conceit.<br>If he were asked the time of day,<br>By country bumpkins green,<br>He not unfrequently would say,<br>&quot;A quarter past thirteen.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If ever you by word of mouth<br>Inquired of MISTER FORTH<br>The way to somewhere in the South,<br>He always sent you North.<br>With little boys his beat along<br>He loved to stop and play;<br>He loved to send old ladies wrong,<br>And teach their feet to stray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He would in frolic moments, when<br>Such mischief bent upon,<br>Take Bishops up as betting men -<br>Bid Ministers move on.<br>Then all the worthy boys he knew<br>He regularly licked,<br>And always collared people who<br>Had had their pockets picked.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was not naturally bad,<br>Or viciously inclined,<br>But from his early youth he had<br>A waggish turn of mind.<br>The Men of London grimly scowled<br>With indignation wild;<br>The Men of London gruffly growled,<br>But PETER calmly smiled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against this minion of the Crown<br>The swelling murmurs grew -<br>From Camberwell to Kentish Town -<br>From Rotherhithe to Kew.<br>Still humoured he his wagsome turn,<br>And fed in various ways<br>The coward rage that dared to burn,<br>But did not dare to blaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still, Retribution has her day,<br>Although her flight is slow:<br>ONE DAY THAT CRUSHER LOST HIS WAY<br>NEAR POLAND STREET, SOHO.<br>The haughty boy, too proud to ask,<br>To find his way resolved,<br>And in the tangle of his task<br>Got more and more involved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Men of London, overjoyed,<br>Came there to jeer their foe,<br>And flocking crowds completely cloyed<br>The mazes of Soho.<br>The news on telegraphic wires<br>Sped swiftly o'er the lea,<br>Excursion trains from distant shires<br>Brought myriads to see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For weeks he trod his self-made beats<br>Through Newport- Gerrard- Bear-<br>Greek- Rupert- Frith- Dean- Poland- Streets,<br>And into Golden Square.<br>But all, alas! in vain, for when<br>He tried to learn the way<br>Of little boys or grown-up men,<br>They none of them would say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their eyes would flash - their teeth would grind -<br>Their lips would tightly curl -<br>They'd say, &quot;Thy way thyself must find,<br>Thou misdirecting churl!&quot;<br>And, similarly, also, when<br>He tried a foreign friend;<br>Italians answered, &quot;IL BALEN&quot; -<br>The French, &quot;No comprehend.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Russ would say with gleaming eye<br>&quot; Sevastopol!&quot; and groan.<br>The Greek said, [GREEK TEXT WHICH CANNOT<br>BE REPRODUCED].&quot;<br>To wander thus for many a year<br>That Crusher never ceased -<br>The Men of London dropped a tear,<br>Their anger was appeased.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At length exploring gangs were sent<br>To find poor FORTH'S remains -<br>A handsome grant by Parliament<br>Was voted for their pains.<br>To seek the poor policeman out<br>Bold spirits volunteered,<br>And when they swore they'd solve the doubt,<br>The Men of London cheered.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in a yard, dark, dank, and drear,<br>They found him, on the floor -<br>It leads from Richmond Buildings - near<br>The Royalty stage-door.<br>With brandy cold and brandy hot<br>They plied him, starved and wet,<br>And made him sergeant on the spot -<br>The Men of London's pet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Schwenck+Gilbert">William Schwenck Gilbert</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538974" data-title="Peter the Wag de William Schwenck Gilbert" data-description="POLICEMAN PETER FORTH I drag
From his obscure retreat:
He was a merry genial wag,
Who loved a mad conceit.
If he were asked the time of day,
By country bumpkins green,
He not unfrequently would say,
&quot;A quarter past thirteen.&quot;

If ever yo..."></div>
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