William Walton — En famille

In the early springtime after their tea Through the young fields of the Springing Bohea Jemima, Jocasta, Dina and Deb Walked with their father Sir Joshua Jebb - An admiral red, whose only notion (A butterfly poised on a pigtailed ocean) Is of the peruked sea whose swell Breaks on the flowerless rocks of Hell Under the thin trees Deb and Dinah Jemima, Jocasta, walked, and finer Their black hair seemed (flat-sleek to see) Than the young leaves of the Springing Bohea; Their cheeks were like Nutmeg-flowers when swells The rain into foolish silver bells They said, "If the door you would Only slam Or if, Papa, you would once say "Damn" - Instead of merely roaring "Avast" Or boldly invoking the nautical Blast - We should now stand In the street of Hell Watching siesta shutters that fell With a noise like amber softly sliding; Our moon-like glances through These gliding Would see at her table preened and set Myrrhina sitting at her toilette With eyelids closed as soft As the breeze That flows from gold flowers On the incense-trees The Admiral said "You could never call - I assure you it would not do at all! She gets down from table Without saying "Please" Forgets her prayers and to cross her Ts In short, her scandalous reputation Has shocked the whole of the Hellish nation; And every turbaned Chinoiserie With whom we should sip Our black Bohea Would stretch out her simian Fingers thin To scratch you, my dears, like a Mandoline; For Hell is just as properly proper As Greenwich, or as, Bath, or Joppa!"