Then the scholar he caught up a fork in great wrath, stuck it under his rib like a glutton, Soused him into the boiler, and finished his broth with the Ghost of the grim Serag of Mutton. He liv'd-O! I can't tell you how: He lodged by an inn, in the street I'm not right, The landlord was in a most terrible fright, He made a great fire, and put on the pot, nob Of the Ghost of a grim Scrag of Mutton. Says the scholar, "You're welcome, some mutton For my broth, ere the pot it boils faster, So prithee come in ;" said the mutton, "I sha'n't, For I'm certainly meat for your master." Then the scholar he caught up a fork in great wrath, Stuck it under his rib like a glutton, A ROUND, a round, A merry laughing round, a round, A round, while echoes sound; The horn shall give time To quick-twinkling feet and the gipsy rhyme In night, in night, Like fays, like fays, Like fays we tread the maze On midsummer's green, And where we have been The prints of our dance in morn shall be seen. Trarah! Trarah! CHORUS. Now all that love day-light are sleeping, Of earth, of the air, of the sea; And then, too, they call those bright twinklers THE CHAIN I GAVE WAS FAIR TO VIEW. (Byron.) THE chain I gave was fair to view, Alas! they could not teach thee thine. But not to bear a stranger's touch; Re-string the chords, renew the clasp. False heart,-frail chain,—and silent lute. ter; And, fully accomplished, I set up schoolmaster. Pickles, powders, pills, and drops, snuff, cucumbers, and salads. Rush-light taper, book of wit O! Foolscap paper, ditto, ditto, Songs and sentimental strains; Dean Swift's maw-wallop, Sighing maids and love-sick swains, Sugar-plums and julap. Thus in hurry and bustle I passed my prime, She teaches girls plain work and knitting, A room full of scholars all day Her face for the office so fitting, It frightens young fellows away. Then so truly blest are we, in a fine large family, Pretty girls and witty boys, daddy's hopes and mammy's joys. Jeremy, Jackey, and Joey, Humphrey, Harry, and Hugh, Caroline, Kitty, and Chloe, Cicely, Sally, and Sue, Peggy, Winny, Peter, Poll, Simon, Jenny, Dick, and Doll. SPOKEN.] At night Mrs. Quotem and I sit by the fire-side, she all snuff and twopenny, I all pigtail and short cut; sniff snuff on one side, piff puff on t'other; sniff snuff, piff puff, all smitch, smoke, and smother, mugging and making mouths at one another! While Peggy is pettish and frettish, and Polly is prudish and coy, Blithe Nancy is pleased with a fancy, and Fanny all frolic and joy ; Droll Dick in the dish he is dipping, and Simon is sucking his thumbs; Sly Cudden is cribbing the pudding, and Peter is plucking out plums, While Winny is winking and blinking, and Rachel is rubbing her eyes; Sweet Polly is dressing her dolly, and Martha is eating minced pies, My wife she keeps stumping and dumping, and mumping her mouth all awry, Her thumping rump, up and down lumping, seems bumping and jumping for joy. While I keep smoking and joking, and brimfull of frolic and gig, Good humour, and good liquor soaking, we finish the night with a jig. When father gave consent, I grew Whack, tooral, looral, &c. My love intentions soon got wind, Whack, tooral, looral, &c. Then Larry, coming, said to Pat, He knocked Pat down, no time to lose, Whack, tooral, looral, &c. When Phelim came, now there began We couldn't tell when off we ran We fought, and ran, and didn't stop Got, safe in Murphy's whiskey shop, Whack, tooral, looral, &c. The doctor, who was justice there, All squashed in Murphy's pig-stye. Whack, tooral, looral, &c. My hose and shoes, when I got loose, I softly did my love-tale speak, Whack, tooral, looral, &c. Now jealous Casey, coming in, But first we'll have a duel. His tight shellelagh cracked my crown, Whack, tooral, looral, &c. Och! murder! that is not well bred, And have I got a broken head, Been beaten, drunk, and pelted, For one who's fast in Hymen's link?Och! faith! I'll go and shun her; I'm cured of love, and now I'll think No more of Judy Connor. Whack, tooral, looral, &c. HAUL AWAY! YEO HO, BOYS! BRITISH sailors have a knack, Haul away! Yeo ho, boys! While up aloft they go, boys! Haul away! Yeo ho, boys! British sailors love their king, Haul away! Yeo ho, boys! And round the bowl they love to sing, And drink his health, you know, boys. Then, while his standard owns a rag, The world combined shall never brag They made us strike the British flag, Haul away! Yeo ho, boys! THERE'S SOME SPELL IN THIS HOUR. [Translated from the German Opera of Abu Hassan. Music by Weber.] How sweetly beams the sunset O'er lake, and wood, and glades! But brighter now, and, still more bright, With ev'ry moment some new light One star, and now again another, Till far and near, and ev'ry part, the cage away, And little lions, only made for Exeter-'Change. Bill, take that pole, give that kangaroò a knock or two, This, ma'am,'s a vulture, and that there, ma'am,'s a cockatoo. I'd sooner see the birds and beasts than have a boat a-Sundays, Jackalls, panthers, kangaroos, kites, cranes, and cotemondies. SPOKEN.] Walk up, walk up, just going to be fed, just going to be fed. Pray, sir, are you a beef-eater? Yes, ma'am, when I can get it. Why do they call you a beef-eater? Because I wears a red coat, and saws the shin-bones for the lions. Trouble you, ma'am, to take off your patterns, tread in the saw-dust, and follow the horgan. Just going to be fed. Here's the four wonderful little hannimals only a fortnight old, and as tame as lambs. Indeed, and pray who were their parents? Hector and Fanny, miss. What Homer's Hector? No, miss, Mr. Cross's, just going to be fed. Fed what? Why Zebra, nyl-ghau, lamma, lynx, and cassowary; Supper's ready, walk up, walk up, it's nine o'clock. Now is the hour at which the lion's belly faints, That royal one-stall stable for a horse when he is dead; And all the pumps are now at work to quench two thirsty elephants, And twenty are grinding bones to make them bread. That is the eagle, esteemed the bird of Helicon; Billy, show that creature's bill; this here, ma'am, is a pelican, That's the Angola goat, and women get their clothing through it, Those are cranes, (not grocers',) bless you, Noah's ark is nothing to it. SPOKEN.] La, ma, is that the Angola goat that makes the gloves? Yes, miss, he's just finished a pair. Pray, Mr. Keeper, is that a crane? Yes, ma'am. Ah, I suppose you feed him with a load? It's fed at nine, sir, with the rest. Pray do you give him a hogshead? No, sir, we give him a herring. Thank'e, ma'am, to keep that child back from shoving those straws into the monkey's eyes, to make 'em grin. (Beast roars.) Bless my soul, how that leopard roars, he groans as if he had got the tooth-ache. Vhy, sir, his vife's in the straw. In the straw? Yes, sir, in her cage, in the familyway. Dash my wig, if she was to get out she'd be in the way of the family. Family, what family? Why Zebra, nyl-ghau, &c. Now, all getting hungry and vociferous to nap a bite, Vent, vith tongues as big as shovels, all their grief, The lions valking up and down to get themselves an appetite, Begin to roll a tender eye towards shins of beef. Pray keep back, that tiger, ma'am, is trouble some, He's looking at your fingers, and he's much inclined to gobble 'em; That leopard, with plum-pudding skin, roars out for ribs of beef to it; And cubs, in hunger, waddle into milk for a relief to it. SPOKEN.] Now then, Alfred, Charlotte, Nico, my boy, nine o'clock, supper's ready. (Beast vars.) Bless my soul, how very wonderful! they quite understand what the keeper says. Pray, Mr. Keeper, do they understand English? That ion does, ma'am, but he's been in England some time. La vich is a lion? Why, don't you know? why, it's that gentleman on all fours, with his head in a muff, that's a lion. Well, it's a great thing to see a lion. Yes, and it's seeing a great hing. Hum! I wish you wouldn't take up all one says so. Well, I sha'n't throw it in the lion's den. Well, Billy, vich do you like best? Oh! I like Hector best. Ah, Hector will domineer. Bless my soul what a play upon words. I'll trouble you, sir, not to make a pun opposite that panther, for we are just trying to tame him. What's all this food for? Food for, why, for Zebra, nyl-ghau, &c. ADELGITHA. (T. Campbell.) THE ordeals fatal sounded, And, sad and pale, Adelgitha came, When forth a valiant champion bounded, And slew the slanderer of her fame. She wept, delivered from her danger! But, when he knelt to claim her glove, "Seek not," she cried, "Oh gallant stranger, For hapless Adelgitha's love; "For he is in a foreign land Whose arms should now have set me free; And I must wear the willow-garland For him that's dead or false to me." She fell into his arms and fainted! "TIS_HE, BOYS, IS GOD OF THE BOW. (M'Nally.) WHEN ruddy Aurora awakens the day, With arrows sharp-pointed we go. "Tis he, boys, is god of the bow. bine For archers, true sons of the game, Bid sorrow adieu, in soft numbers we'll sing; Love, friendship, and beauty, make the air ring, Wishing health and success to our country and king, Increase to their honour and fame. REMEMBER THE DUKE OF ARGYLE. Air-" Fy, let us a' haste to the Bridal." (S. Thomas.) JOCKEY he lo'ed Annie, The lass wi' a bonnie black eye, But Annie looked sulky upon him, Which made the poor laddie to sigh. So, one day, in despair to behold her, Give a frown, sirs, instead of a smile, He listed, and went for a soger, And marched off wi' the Duke of Argyle. Now the war being ended and over, He knocked at his Annie's own door, But the de'il himsel couldn't ope it, For Jockey looked ragged and poor. He then walked away, and looked round him, And, while his poor shoulders a rubbing, Some posts they reached many a mile, Cried, "'od bless the Duke of Argyle!" Now Annie peeped out of the window, Says she," Pray, are you native here ?" He looked up, with a sigh, and then answered, "Oh, yes, we're a' natives, my dear." THE ORPHAN'S PRAYER. THE frozen streets in moonshine glitter, Their weight my limbs no more can bear, But no one soothes the orphan's anguish, And no one heeds the orphan's prayer. Hark! hark! for surely footsteps near me Advancing, press the drifted snow; I die for food;-oh, stranger! hear me Oh, grant the famished orphan's prayer. He's gone! no mercy man will show me, In prayers no more I'll waste my breath; Here on the frozen earth I'll throw me, And wait, in mute despair, for death. Farewell, thou cruel world! to-morrow No more thy scorn my heart shall tear, will shield the child of sorrow, And Heaven will hear the orphan's prayer The grave GOOD MORROW TO YOUR NIGHT-CAP. (O'Keefe.) DEAR Kathleen, you, no doubt, Find sleep how very sweet 'tis ; On two legs rid along, to bid With whiskey, ale, and cider, To let me sit beside her. So here I've rid along, to bid A MASON'S LIFE'S THE LIFE FOR ME. The Master's call we one and all, With heart and hand, we ready stand, But, when the glass goes round, And mirth and glee abound, We're happy every soul. |