Jack The Giant Killer
THE ARGUMENT
I sing the deeds of famous Jack,
The doughty Giant Killer hight;
How he did various monsters "whack,"
And so became a gallant knight.
In Arthur's days of splendid fun
(His Queen was Guenever the Pliant), —
Ere Britain's sorrows had begun;
When every cave contained its giant;
When griffins fierce as bats were rife;
And till a knight had slain his dragon,
At trifling risk of limbs and life,
He did n't think he'd much to brag on;
When wizards o'er the welkin flew;
Ere science had devised balloon;
And 'twas a common thing to view
A fairy ballet by the moon; —
Our hero played his valiant pranks;
Earned loads of kudos, vulgô glory,
A lady, "tin," and lots of thanks; —
Relate, oh Muse! his wondrous story.
OF GIANTS IN GENERAL
A Giant was, I should premise,
A hulking lout of monstrous size;
He mostly stood – I know you 'll laugh —
About as high as a giraffe.
His waist was some three yards in girth:
When he walked he shook the earth.
His eyes were of the class called "goggle,"
Fitter for the scowl than ogle.
His mouth, decidedly carnivorous,
Like a shark's, – the Saints deliver us!
He yawned like a huge sarcophagus,
For he was an Anthropophagus,
And his tusks were huge and craggy;
His hair, and his brows, and his beard, were shaggy.
I ween on the whole he was aught but a Cupid,
And exceedingly fierce, and remarkably stupid;
His brain partaking strongly of lead,
How well soe'er he was off for head;
Having frequently one or two
Crania more than I or you.
He was bare of arm and leg,
But buskins had, and a philabeg;
Also a body-coat of mail
That shone with steel or brazen scale,
Like to the back of a crocodile's tail;
A crown he wore,
And a mace he bore
That was knobbed and spiked with adamant;
It would smash the skull
Of the mountain bull,
Or scatter the brains of the elephant.
His voice than the tempest was louder and gruffer —
Well; so much for the uncouth "buffer."
JACK'S BIRTH, PARENTAGE, EDUCATION, AND EARLY PURSUITS
Of a right noble race was Jack,
For kith and kin he did not lack,
Whom tuneful bards have puffed;
The Seven bold Champions ranked among
That highly celebrated throng,
And Riquet with the Tuft.
Jack of the Beanstalk, too, was one;
And Beauty's Beast; and Valour's son,
Sir Amadis de Gaul:
But if I had a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass, and iron lungs,
I could not sing them all.
His sire was a farmer hearty and free;
He dwelt where the Land's End frowns on the sea,
And the sea at the Land's End roars again,
Tit for tat, land and main.
He was a worthy wight, and so
He brought up his son in the way he should go;
He sought not – not he! – to make him a "muff;"
He never taught him a parcel of stuff;
He bothered him not with trees and plants,
Nor told him to study the manners of ants.
He himself had never been
Bored with the Saturday Magazine;
The world might be flat, or round, or square,
He knew not, and he did not care;
Nor wished that a boy of his should be
A Cornish "Infant Prodigy."
But he stored his mind with learning stable,
The deeds of the Knights of the famed Round Table;
Legends and stories, chants and lays,
Of witches and warlocks, goblins and fays;
How champions of might
Defended the right,
Freed the captive, and succoured the damsel distrest
Till Jack would exclaim —
"If I don't do the same,
An' I live to become a man, —I'm blest!"
Jack lightly recked of sport or play
Wherein young gentlemen delight,
But he would wrestle any day,
Box, or at backsword fight.
He was a lad of special "pluck,"
And strength beyond his years,