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The clocks all stopp'd, the dogs all howl'd, the lambs
made lam-entation, Pans felt the pan-ic, china sets were set in agitation,
Old Mr. Grubb, while carving, was so shock'd by this
alarm, His fork slipp'd from a goose's leg into his neighbour's
arm; While Mrs. Grubb, just then, was taking wine with
Mr. Mace, Bobb’d her cap into the gravy and the wine into bis
A nieeting of these sufferers resolv'd to make appeal, And get redress from Mr. Squibb, the owner of the
mill; So to complain of various shocks they one and all
began, and very clearly prov'd he was a very shocking man.
Squibb very coolly told 'em the case was plain enough, No business now was carried on without the aid of
“puit;" Men cared not whom they hurt by puff, so they grew
rich and provider, And so he tried what he could do by pusing off his
TIIE MODEST MISS. J. LABERN.]
[Tune-"Sich a gittin' up stairs."
Such a delicate duck was Clementina Crimmins,
Once the Lowther Arcarle we took a stroll down,
Such a delicate, &c.
Such a delicate, &c. She went out shopping the other night, Bit rush'd fruin the draper's with great affright, 'Cos the innocent shopman, with looks quite winning, Happen'd to show her soine undressed linen.
Such a delicate, &c. With herself and mother I dined one day, But when she was asked to clear away, She wouldn't move the cloth--oh, genini pegs! 'Cos she said as how the table had legs!
Such a delicate, &c. She wanted to wear—'gad, you'd hardly suppose Spectacles to hide her naked nose ; Iū windy weather she wont stir a peg,. For the wind's so rude he wants to see her leg!
Such a delicate, &c. When she goes to the butcher's-you may think I jest, But she never will ask for a leg or a breast, As for buying rump s eaks, she has too much shame, And she calls a cockatoo out of his name.
Such a delicate, &c. We've been going to be married—so she affirmsThis eight or nive years, but we can't come to terms; She says she don't care how soon she weds, On condition that we sleep in separate beds.
Such a delicate, &c.
EVERY ONE TO THEIR LIKING-OLD
ENGLAND FOR ME. Thomas Hudson.]
[Tune-"The Legacy." SOME time back, I felt much inclined to turn rover,
Of pleasure to have an additional gleam ; So, without preparation, I started for Dover,
And cross'd the salt water to Calais by steam. No sooner on board, than the wind got alarmish,
So bigh and so big roll'd the waves of the sea ; I said to myself, all the while I felt qualmish,
Every one to their liking-old England for me! We got there without being shipwreck'd or stranded,
Excepting the sickness, quite sife and sound; I was carried on shore by a female, and landed,
And glad enough, sure, when I touchi'd dry ground. I strutted about lik; an Englishman, grandish,
But their parley-vous talk and I did not agree; For even the children, they talk'd quite outlandish :
Every one to their liking-old England for me! At Calais I found there is nobody tarries ;
So like other wi? more cash than sense, The very next morning I started for Paris
In a curious stage coach, the Negligence: I did not at all like this part of my tour;
The postboy's jack-boots were great wonders to see; We travell’d a matter of two miles an hour:
Every one to their liking-old England for me!
I got from the coach, and the stieet I cross'd;
I felt in my pocket, and found 'twas lost,
They soon inade me know I was no longer free; I said, in the midst of my grand twitteration,
Every one to their likiny-old England for ine!
There's no niisfortune in life but has a door :
At last I found out what I was to do,
For a prseport of one I had lost in lieu.
They told me polite, I might then Paris see; 'Twas so grand, oh, says I, hang your Frenchified
prating, Every one to their liking-old England for me! For fear I'd be lock'u 1p, and put to such rack again,
On what d'ye think then my mind was bent ? Why, I went to coach-office, and took my place back
again, And came home from France just as wise as I went. There's many young men their own judgments have
prideri, In making a tour the French fashions to see, Emptieil their pockets, saw just what I did:
Every one to their liking-od England for nie! When fok at home learn'd that France I had been
there, Wi questions they bore! m3, wi' might and main ; Says I, depend on't, enough I have seen there,
To hinder my travelling there a ain.
He may track foreign parts, foreign wonders to see; But for liberty, roast beef, plum-padling, and beauty,
Every one to their liking-old England for ine !
OH! LET NOT YOUR PASSION FOR
MARY THE MAID. T. H. Bayly.]
[Music by Sir R. H. BISHOP. OH! let not your passion for Mary the maid,
Cause you, my Lord Harry, to blush ; When beauty ennobles, immediately fade
Birth, pai entage, duster, and brusli,
E'en pride from her presence shall never recoil,
Her smiles all impediments soften,
Than she who has boil'd it so often ?
Then throw by your gun, it might worry her nerves,
As she settles her sweets on the shelf;
When she's making preserves for yourself:
She is worthy the warmest of lovers!
Give new zest to the scent of your corers.
Regard not her frown, you may penetrate stone,
By the dripping of water, they say ;
On whom diipping can be thrown away.
To freeze you with manners majestic,
That your habits are strictly domestic.
The Music arranged by W. GUERNSEY.
On a neat little bill that they call Drumcusheen;
But I'll first sing the praises of darling Neddeen !
* Neddeen, in the town of Keamare, in Kerry, the property of the al rquis of Lansdowne.