Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Boxiana
Boxiana.
I hate the very name of box:It fills me full of fears;It minds me of the woes I've feltSince I was young in years.
They sent me to a Yorkshire school,Where I had many knocks;For there my schoolmates boxed my ears,Because I couldn't box.
I packed my box, I picked the locks,And ran away to sea;And very soon I learned to boxThe compass merrily.
I came ashore, I called a coachAnd mounted on the box;The coach upset against a post,And gave me dreadful knocks.
I soon got well, in love I fellAnd married Martha Box;To please her will at famed Box HillI took a country box.
I had a pretty garden there,All bordered round with box;But, ah, alas! there lived next doorA certain Captain Knox.
He took my wife to see the play;—They had a private box:I jealous grew, and from that dayI hated Captain Knox.
I sold my house, I left my wife,And went to Lawyer Fox,Who tempted me to seek redressAll from a jury box.
I went to law, whose greedy mawSoon emptied my strong box;I lost my suit, and cash to boot,All through that crafty Fox.
The name of box I therefore dread, I've had so many shocks;They'll never end; for when I'm dead They'll nail me in a box.