Case set down for hearing-but Practice was stupid;
The Court of Queen's Bench is no Court for Cupid;
The widow's affections against him were rooted,
And he by her Verdict completely Nonsuited;
Yet sweet hope impell'd him, in spite of denial,
To make application to have a New Trial;
But she had a Covenant with one Mr. Daw:
When Cupid commands-good bye to all Law.
This his poor heart such a sudden shock gave it,
He of his damages made affidavit;
Then took Exceptions, filed Writ of Error,
Show'd cause against, and put in Demurrer ;
But th' widow got married, join'd issue-her graces,
Two special originals-both fiery faces,
He Costs out of pocket-from which we may draw,
When Cupid commands-good bye to all Law.
[Tune "Callaghans-Brallagbans."
WHEN a man who is married gets jealous,
What evils around him it draws!
For it is sure to encourage young fellows
Determined to give him some cause;
So when a man once has got wed,
'Tis always the very best plan,
If his wife should put horns on his head,
To hide them as well as he can.
Oh! wedlock's a blessing, they tell us,
But if the good man or his wife
Should happen by chance to be jealous,
Good bye to the joys of their life.
Dick Nobbs had a pretty young wife,
But Dick was a sad jealous elf,
And he feared, tho' he'd got her for life,
He had not got her all to himself.
Dick was told t'other night at the door,
As he chanced to come home unawares,
That his wife had come in just before
And had taken "a soldier" up stairs.
Dick stared at the news, then in haste
Up stairs, full of vengeance, he hied,
Caught his wife just preparing to taste
The delight which her soldier supplied;
But oh! 'twould have pleased you to see
How simple and foolish Dick looked,
When this soldier but turned out to be
A jolly red-herring just cooked,
Thus Dick had found more than he wished,
His wife had got out of a scrape,
The soldier was properly dished,
And hadn't a chance to escape :
Dick's wife was ne'er blamed for the act,
While her joys with "the soldier" went on,
For tho' she was caught in the fact,
It didn't amount to crim. con.
REFORM, IN DOORS AND OUT.
EGAD! all the world is about to reform,
For all earthly evils it seems the true charm ;
And folks of all stations are making a rout
For a grand alteration both in doors and out.
It appears that a time for a change has now come,
And every one is beginning at home;
So let us imagine, for sake of the fun,
What by all for the general good will be done :
Since folks of all stations are making a rout
For a grand reformation both in doors and out.
The miser's reform is to be rather funny,
It is to get less and less partial to money;
While that of the spendthrift will be the reverse,
His maxim's to be "keep your gold in your purse."
The Quakers, for sake of example, intend
To follow the fashions-yea, verily friend,
To go to the playhouse, to balls, and learn bowing,
To swear a round oath, and forget thee and thouing.
The Lawyers' reform, I believe, please the pigs, Is to give good advice and leave off wearing wigs; To lower their fees and to cut "Doe" and "Roe," "Six and eightpence," "likewise," "aforesaid," and "also."
The Doctor's reform is a bitterish pill,
He's to send us less physic whenever we're ill;
Leave mystification-not make a long bill,
And if he can't cure us-he wont try to kill.
Some creatures must rise in the world inch by inch,
Oh, nature ne'er made ev'ry bird a goldfinch;
The Ploughmen intend to stick close to their work,
And no longer consider the rich man a Turk.
Legislators intend to avoid all pretences
For swelling our laws for such petty offences
As whipping a donkey, or stealing a straw,
That we may walk about without breaking a law.
The reform of the Welchmen economy speaks,
On the days of St. David they will not wear leeks;
The Scotchman's to be soon an unco douce laddie,
Wha'll avoid the braw lasses, flings, reels, and strong
toddy.
Och! no more will the Irishman use the shillaly,
Nor blarney, nor kick up a shindee, but daily
On butter-milk live, and ne'er get a skin full
Of whiskey, and never more utter a bull.
Then there's Mr. Isaacs, the good-natured Jew,
He swears "by de profet! I vill reform, too;
I'll have a fix'd price for my goods and my vork,
And vill at my dinners eat pacon and pork."
Our Actors intend to grow pious, because
They'd no longer get vain by receiving applause;
And each beautiful Actress intends, too, ifegs!
In future to make a less show of her legs.
The Parsons intend to leave off taking tithes,
And the mist of pluralities wipe from their eyes;
Fox-hunting avoid and humility teach,
And endeavour to practise whatever they preach.
The Courtiers' reform is to be, as I hear,
To endeavour to do with less routs in the year;
And they have signified that it is their intentions
To give up all thoughts about places and pensions.
The Lord Mayor of London reform has in view,
By giving an extra good dinner or two;
And the Aldermen eagerly seek reformation,
And each does his best for bis own corporation.
It is right we should follow the rage of the day,
So we all will reform in a moderate way;
And soon will the flag of content be unfurl'd,
And Britain become the best place in the world.
[Tune-"The Laird o' Cockpen."
WHA's e'er been in Scotland has heard o' Cairnwood,
Where the castle o' Graham on an eminence stood,
Possess'd by a laird o' a baron's degree,
An' he gaed a wooing to Jessie McCree.
Noo Jessie, ye ken, was a lass o' sixteen,
Wi' bright gowden hair, and bonny blue een,
A gude store o' gowd for a tocher had she,
An' monny a suitor had Jessie McCree.
The laird he was wealthy, but ugly an' auld,
His face fu' o' wrinkles-his pow it was bauld,
An' his age could be nae less than sixty an' three,
When he gaed a wooing to Jessie McCree.
Ane wintery morning he gat him up soon,
An' bright gowden buckles he set in his shoon,
Wi' gay silken breeks that cam down to his knee,
"Ye'll hae me, I'm thinking noo, Jessie McCree."
Then he walked to her dwelling, and tapp'd at the yett,
She bade him come in, sae he took aff his hat;
"Good morning, Miss Jessie, and how's a' wi' ye?" "Weel, thanks t'ye for speering," said Jessie McCree.
Then to open his errand he said that her lips
Were sweet as the rose where the honey bee sips,
Far brighter than diamonds the blink o' her ee';
"Haud aff wi' your lees, laird," said Jessie McCree.
"Noo, lassie, ye ken as I'm getting auld,
Through the lang winter's nights I lay unco' cauld;
I'm in want o' a gudewife to warm me," said he ;
"Ye maun seek ane elsewhere, then," said Jessie
McCree.
"Laird, ken ye young Willie wha lives o'er the muir, O, I'll hae that laddie though he is but puir;
For I loe him dearly, and weel he loes me,
An' I'll ne'er be fause to him," said Jessie McCree.
"I hae weel stocket farms, lass, an' muckle gude land, Besides yonder castle sae lofty an' grand,
An' a' shall be yours 'gin ye will had me,
Wad ye no be a leddie, then, Jessie McCree?"
"Hout, dinna fash me wi' your lan' and your gear,
My Willie has twenty gude punds by the year;
Wi' that an' my laddie contented I'll be,
Sae gude-bye to your lairdship," said Jessie McCree.
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