Thus milling is the fashion grown, and every one a closer is, With lessons from the lads of fist to turn out quite the thing; True science may be learn'd where'er the fam'd Mendoza is; And gallantry and bottom, too, from SCROGGINS, MARTIN, SPRING; For sparring now is all the rage, in town and country places, too; Crack'd collar-bones and claret mugs are often seen at races, too; While counter hits, and give and take, as long as strength can hold her seat, Afford the best amusement in a bit of pugilistic treat. Oh! 'tis a sight, &c. THE WAND'RING BEGGAR-GIRL. (Cherry.) THE wand'ring beggar-girl may meet Whom virtue thus forego; Nor let the burthen be-Heigho! ..... DRINKING AND KISSING ARE PLEA- ANACREON, they say, was a jolly old blade, Yet Bacchus and Beauty the theme must inspire, To love and be lov'd, how transporting the bliss, While the heart-cheering glass gives a zest to each kiss: And she gave herself up to despair. The walls of her cell were all sculptur'd around, Was engrav'd with some deeds he had done. The sire of the gods, from his chrystaline throne, Beheld the disconsolate dame; And, mov'd with her tears, sent Mercury down, For thy Wolfe so deservedly lov'd, Then a counsel was held in the chamber of Jove, That Wolfe should be call'd to the armies above, The sons of the earth, the proud giants of old, To the plains of Quebec with the orders they flew, CONFESS THE MASON'S ART DIVINE. The stately structures that arise, With prudence all our actions are, DRAWING THE LONG-BOW; OR, HOW TO TELL A STORY. (T. Dibdin.) M'Hoghlin, without mixing it at all; it's the way my Pat, what's dead there, was liked it, wasn't it, Pat, my darling?' Sure we'll try him tiff now,' says I; it will be making him comfortable getting "" OVER port, pipe, or snuff-box, there's always it down you see.' Och, bad luck! be asey some wight To tell a long story at club ev'ry night, Grew frightened, reflected, turned round, and jumped back. Derry down, &c. A boatswain who ne'er had seen Punch or his wife, To a puppet-show went, the first time in his life; Laughed and wondered at every odd trick and grimace, When a barrel of gunpowder blew up the place. Derry down, &c. Spectators and puppets were here and there thrown, When Jack, on a tree who had safely been blown, Took a quid, blew his whistle, and not at all vext, Cried, “Shiver me, what will this fellow do next?" Derry down, &c. A bluff grenadier, under great Marshal Saxe, Had his head cut clean off by a Lockabar axe, But his comrade replaced it so nice ere it fell, That a handkerchief tied round his neck made all well. Derry down, &c. Now, his memory was short, and his neck very long, Which he'd bow thus and thus when he heard a good song; And one night beating time to the tale I tell you, Besides, ere my narrative verse I pursue, now!' scramed out Mistress O'Gaffney, as myself uncovered the face of him; would you be disturbing the dead crature?' says she, • besides you'll be making him take cold stripping him! Och, Pat! och, my jewel, spake to me now! Myself and all joined chorus. Oh! O! Oh! O! (giving the howl) Oh! O! Och, and sure 'twas all over delightful! and then we tucked him up warm and comfortable, while we sung Hurroo whack fililloo, Smic smaghlaloo! Mister Murphey Marooney, 'twas chanced by mistake, Put his foot in the place near the heel of the wake. Och,' says I, sir, you're out,' 'No,' says he, sir, I'm in!' Then,' says I, you're the signal a row to begin.' SPOKEN.] You dirty spalpeen,' says I,' what's brought you here before you was sent to be axed?' 'Bad luck,' says he, and wasn't I sent myself to be axed, what's all the same now.' • Och! don't be coming here, you old ragman, with your blarney about sending yourself what's not wanted at all,' says I; so you're out, I'm telling you!' Och! by the powers of all that's plasing,' says he, and wasn't I come to comfort the widow Divil fly away wid you then,' says I, 'for haven't I every thing at all to comfort a widow myself, you see?' Bad luck to the comfort she'll get from any one else; will you, Mistress O'Gaffney?' says I. Divil a bit of it!' says she. now?' Och, my darling crature,' says I, 'then that's what's enough for me to go to work upon.' So to work I went at once, putting Mister Marooney's daylights in the dark, before he saw himself quite blind of all his eyes. There, you dirty tief!' says I, that's taching you what's paceable That while you're kicking up a row, you see.' was all the nate thing, 'cause I wouldn't be disturbing poor Pat what's dead at the time, with a Hurroo whack fililloo, Smic smaghlaloo ! With swate Mistress O'Gaffney then cock of the walk, I put out my best leg first to win the first chalk her chin, 'Is't my heart,' says she 'Dennis, you're meaning to win?' Och, SPOKEN.] Och! faith my tender jewel!' says I, 'sure I wouldn't be maning any thing else, my lambkin, and every thing what's belonged to it now.' Och! you divil! whisper,' says she, 'sure we must be dacent, until we'll be got Pat under the turf and all about him you see. musha gra a gram-a-chree! my double-fat darling,' says I, sure an' I wo'n't be making you as happy as a fly in a pot of treacle, my honey-bird! Sure I'm the swate boy for comforting the ladies, Mistress O'Gaffney, you'll see,' says I. By my soul, her brother, Mister Teddy Phagan, was come up myself was getting all over alive about her, when to be axing me if I took his sister for a dish of butter-milk? Och, be asey,' says I, 6 sure wo'n't I intind to take her for butter and all, byand-by you'll see.' And then I tould him, says I, only wait till awhile ago, and we two brothers will be first-cousins-in-law you see out of it!" Faith, he was quite plased wid the notion of it; the whiskey was going about bravely, till we was all blind happy, and just got into the middle of a swate howl, (gives the howl,) when, och! bad luck! you wouldn't think what was happened. Botheration! such a Hurroo whack fililloo, Smic smaghlaloo. Pat went dead as it happened for plasing his wife, But for plasing himself, he again came to life; For while waking his body, so swate was our howl, By the powers, that our music at last waked his soul! SPOKEN.] All the botheration of bad luck to it! We was all got quite comfortable, myself and Mrs. O'Gaffney as swate together as two nuts just cracked; Teddy Phagan and Katty Culloch, Mister O'Brien, Mister O'Mullins, Mistress Donnehough, Shelah M'Nally, Mister O'Looseskin, and Miss Flannagan with her beautiful mother, you see, and all the rest of us was just in the marrow of the thing all together, with our pipes nately tuned in a charming Oh! O! Oh! O! Oh! O! when who the divil should pop up straight upon his rump but dead Pat O'Gaffney all alive at the moment! Och, and where am I?' says he, staring with all his eyes and ears into the bargain. Arrah be asey, Pat!' says I, you're safe enough now, you're dead these twelve hours; so don't be troubling yourself at all about it! But by Saint Patrick he wouldn't be believed a word of it, and out of bed he jumped, while Mistress O'Gaffney was fainted in my arms, and myself tumbled backwards out of the room down the ladder all together, one top of t'other, running away with the divil at our heels! So that's what was finished Pat's wake nately, with a And mark the lily's lowly bed, Thy vernal beauty, like the tree, Yet still, bright rose, the gales must blow. So, when the storms of Fate blow high, WE'LL DRINK LIKE MORTAL MEN. (R. A. Millikin.) HAD I the tun which Bacchus used, For while a can it ne'er refused, I'd turn the cock from morn till eve, My friend should sit as well as I, For he that drinks (although he's dry) Now since the tun which Bacchus used ENGLAND, EUROPE'S GLORY. [Music, Horn, Tichborn-Street, Piccadilly.] THERE is a land amidst the waves Bles land, beyond all lands afar, And Beauty's peerless daughters. ....... IN Chester town a man there dwelt, His name was Thomas Clutterbuck. O! Thomas Clutterbuck, And O! Polly Higginbottom! I sing the loves, the smiling loves, A little trip he did propose, The wind blew high, he blew his nose, The strain was sweet, the stream was deep, And then fell in the water. O! Polly Higginbottom, I sing the death, the doleful death, He thought, went rather lighter. I sing the death, the double death, Round Chester stalk the river ghosts Of this young man and fair maid, Learn this, ye constant lovers all, The O Polly Higginbottom, Who lies at the bottom, So sing the ghosts, the water-ghosts, Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. THE MASON'S ALLEGORY. (G. S. Carey.) THE trade of a mason's a good moral school, Or encircled by care no alternative find, Make use of your plummet, his subtlety sound, THERE'S an isle, clasp'd by waves, in an emerald HARK! THE CURFEW'S SOLEMN SOUND. FAREWELL TO LOCHABER, AND FAREWELL, MY JEAN. Air-" Lochaber no more."-(Ramsay.) FAREWELL to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean, Where heartsome with thee I've mony days been. For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We'll may be return to Lochaber no more. These tears that I shed, they are a' for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on wear, Though bore on rough seas to a far bloody shore, May be to return to Lochaber no more. Though hurricanes arise, and rise every wind, Then, glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse; A heart I will bring thee with love running o'er, i (Tobin.) A GLEE. HARK! the curfew's solemn sound, Silent darkness spreads around, Heavy it beats on the lover's heart, Who leaves, with a sigh, his tale half told. The poring monk and his book must part; And, fearful, the miser locks his gold! Now, whilst labour sleeps, and charmed sorrow; O'er the dewy green, By the glow-worm's light, Dance the elves of night, Unheard, unseen. Yet, where their midnight pranks have been, The circled turf will betray to-morrow. NED NAPPY, THE HATTER, AND HIS MASTER'S DAUGHTER. Air-" First of September."-(D. W. Jerrold.) NED NAPPY was a hatter, and could solve each incongruity, In which his trade abounded, with wondrous ingenuity; His master had a daughter, and by a strange contingency, His mind unto this fair one had gained a great astringency. Young Cupid 'gainst my heart, he cried, has rubbed a merry friction, My love will ever true remain, nor suffer dereliction; Your papa is gone out, you know, seize the moment with avidity, And let you and I, as man and wife, be joined in great fixidity. "Tis Easter-Monday, you well know, at Shoreditch we may be married, No longer shilly-shally stand, but by Love's sway be carried; Our union is by Fate decreed, and signs, too, astrolo cal; Believe me, I don't lie, nor speak in language hyperbolical. The maiden had just sworn " to love, honour, and obey," too, When Neddy's angry master at the altar found his way, too- |