Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[graphic]

I was Nan's, and Nan was mine, spite of Jim, the carter,"

yes," says she, " and that's all fine! t Jack, vat are you arter?"

arter?-vy now, this is strange; n Nan with falsehood tax me? at my love is like to change; naw! vat a thing to ax me." yes," says she, "that may be true, r so said Jim, the carter;

ae proved false, and so may you,
Jack, vat are you arter?"

I," the short and long is this,
all that's sweet about me,
unday next,-come, give's a kiss,
wed my Nan, don't doubt me."

u will," says she, " then I'm your bride,
spite of Jim, the carter;"

from that moment, never cried

Now, Jack, vat are you arter?"

[ocr errors]

HUMMING ALL THE TRADE IS.

WITH a merry tale,

Serjeants beat the drum;

Noddles full of ale,

Village lads they hum.

Soldiers out go all,
Famous get in story,
If they chance to fall,
Don't they sleep in glory?

Lawyers try, when feed,
Juries to make pliant;
If they can't succeed,

To perfection come,
Humming all the trade is,

Ladies lovers hum,

Lovers hum the ladies.

Towdy rowdy dow, &e

Ha'n't Britannia's sons

Often hummed Mounseer?
Ha'n't they hummed the Dons?
Let their fleets appear!
Strike they must, though loth,
Ships, with dollars crammed,
If they're not hummed both,
Then will I be d-d.

Towdy rowdy dow, &c.

[ocr errors]

THE IRISH SMUGGLERS.

FROM Brighton two Paddies walk'd under the cliff, For pebbles and shells to explore;

When, lo! a small barrel was dropp'd from a skiff,
Which floated at length to shore.

Says Dermot to Pat, we the owner will bilk,
To night we'll be merry and frisky,

I know it as well as my own mother's milk,
Dear joy! 'tis a barrel of whisky.

Says Pat, I'll soon broach it, O fortunate lot!
(Now Pat, you must know was a joker,)
I'll go to Tom Murphy, who lives in the cot,
And borrow his kitchen hot poker.

'Twas said, and 'twas done-the barrel was bor'd, (No Bacchannals ever felt prouder,)

When Paddy found out a small error on board—

The whisky, alas! was gunpowder!

With sudden explosion, he flew o'er the ocean,
And high in air sported a leg;

Yet instinct prevails, when philosophy fails,
So he kept a tight hold of the keg.

But Dermot bawl'd out, with a terrible shout,
I'm not to be chous'd, Master Wiseman;
If you do not come down, I'll run into the town,
And, by Jasus! I'll tell the exciseman.

[ocr errors][merged small]

OVER port, pipe, or snuff-box, there's always some wight

To tell a long story at club ev'ry night,

Wanting wit at a pinch, the box helps a bad joke,
Or deficient in fire, he supplies ye with smoke.

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

Since we're told to believe only half what we hear,
Every tale we attempt should from fiction be clear,
Probability carefully keeping in view;

For example, I'll tell a short story or two.

Derry down, &c.

Once a man advertised the metropolis round,
He'd leap off the monument on to the ground,
But when just half way down, felt some nervous attack,
Grew frightened, reflected, turned round, and jumped
Derry down, &c.

back.

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

[ocr errors]

song; And one night beating time to the tale I tell you, He gave such a nod that away his head flew.

Derry down, &c. I could tell other stories, but here mean to rest, Till what you have heard may have time to digest, Besides, ere my narrative verse I pursue,

I must find some more subjects equally true.

Derry down, &c.

THE BLIND PRIEST.

A PRIEST of Kajaaga, as blind as a stone,
When he took to his bosom a wife,
Cried, "deary, I never shall see you I own,
But you'll be the delight of my life."
Then his arm o'er her shoulders he lovingly passed,
And says he, " my love, what is this lump?"
She faltered a little-but told him at last,
"Please your holiness, only my hump."

Says the priest, "then we cannot cohabit, d'ye see,
Though I tenderly love you, indeed,

For I've taken an oath that my children sha'n't be
Of the camel and buffalo breed."

So he married another he fancied would fit-
Coming home, in sweet conjugal talk,

She stopt the blind priest, saying, "sit down a bit,
For my legs are too bandy to walk."

[graphic]

e as still as a mouse;

t curse me if ever your shins

le you into my house."

hed up his eyes like the white of boiled

d thus to Mahomet smack:

net, afford me a wife with good legs, never a hump on her back!"

ce of the prophet in thunder was heard, ed thus over his head:

e young woman, that can't speak a word your blind rev'rence's bed,"

me young wife likes her old husband blind, men like a wife that is dumb."

Home, sweet Home."

s unmarried, alone did I roam,

place much more pleasant than home; room where the casement was broke: ould be made on account of the smoke me! home! comfortless home!

ere was no place like home!

woman whom all did admire,
rom the frying-pan into the fire;
d sluttish, she ne'er cleans my room;
place still find better than home!

« AnteriorContinuar »