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Gave with his hand my chaise a shove,
And said, "Go on, my pretty love;

Speak to 'em, little Nan.

You've only got to curtsey, whisp-
er, hold you're chin up, laugh and lisp,

And then you're sure to take:

I've known the day when brats, not quite
Thirteen, got fifty pounds a night;
Then why not Nancy Lake?"

But while I'm speaking, where's papa?
And where's my aunt? and where's mamma?
Where's Jack? O there they sit!
They smile, they nod; I'll go my ways,
And order round poor Billy's chaise,
To join them in the pit.

And now, good gentlefolks, I go
To join mamma, and see the show;
So, bidding you adieu,

I curtsey like a pretty miss,

And if you'll blow to me a kiss,

I'll blow a kiss to you.

[Blows a kiss, and exit.]

James Smith

LARRIE O'DEE

Now the Widow McGee,

And Larrie O'Dee,

Had two little cottages out on the green,

With just room enough for two pig-pens between.
The widow was young and the widow was fair,
With the brightest of eyes and the brownest of hair,
And it frequently chanced, when she came in the morn,
With the swill for her pig, Larrie came with the corn,
And some of the ears that he tossed from his hand
In the pen of the widow were certain to land.

One morning said he:

"Och! Misthress McGee,

It's a waste of good lumber, this runnin' two rigs,
Wid a fancy purtition betwane our two pigs!"
'Indade, sur, it is!" answered Widow McGee,
With the sweetest of smiles upon Larrie O'Dee.
"And thin, it looks kind o' hard-hearted and mane,
Kapin' two friendly pigs so exsaidenly near
That whiniver one grunts the other can hear,
And yit kape a cruel purtition betwane."

"If ye fale in your heart we are mane to the pigs,

Ain't we mane to ourselves to be runnin' two rigs?

Och! it made me heart ache when I paped through the cracks

Of me shanty, lasht March, at yez shwingin' yer axe;
An' a-bobbin' yer head an' a-shtompin' yer fate,
Wid yer purty white hands jisht as red as a bate,
A-shplittin' yer kindlin'-wood out in the shtorm,
When one little shtove it would kape us both warm!”

"Now, piggy," says she,

"Larrie's courtin' o' me,

Wid his dilicate tinder allusions to you;

So now yez must tell me jisht what I must do:
For, if I'm to say yes, shtir the swill wid yer snout;
But if I'm to say no, ye must kape yer nose out.
Now Larrie, for shame! to be bribin' a pig
By a-tossin' a handful of corn in its shwig!'
"Me darlint, the piggy says yes," answered he.
And that was the courtship of Larrie O'Dee.

"

William W. Fink

TIM TURPIN

Tim Turpin he was gravel blind,
And ne'er had seen the skies:
For Nature, when his head was made,
Forgot to dot his eyes.

There's some have specs to help their sight

Of objects dim and small;

But Tim had specks within his eyes,

And could not see at all.

Now Tim he wooed a servant maid,
And took her to his arms;
For he, like Pyramus, had cast
A wall-eye on her charms.

By day she led him up and down
Where'er he wished to jog,
A happy wife, although she led
The life of any dog.

But just when Tim had lived a month
In honey with his wife,

A surgeon oped his Milton eyes,
Like oysters, with a knife.

But when his eyes were opened thus,
He wished them dark again;
For when he looked upon his wife,
He saw her very plain.

Her face was bad, her figure worse,
He couldn't bear to eat;

For she was anything but like
A Grace before his meat.

He knocked at his wife's head until
It opened unto him.

And when the corpse was stiff and cold,

He took his slaughtered spouse,

And laid her in a heap with all

The ashes of her house.

But, like a wicked murderer,
He lived in constant fear
From day to day, and so he cut
His throat from ear to ear.

The neighbors fetched a doctor in:
Said he, "This wound I dread
Can hardly be sewed up, his life
Is hanging on a thread.”

But when another week was gone,
He gave him stronger hope,
Instead of hanging on a thread,
Of hanging on a rope.

Ah! when he hid his bloody work,
In ashes round about,

How little he supposed the truth
Would soon be sifted out!

But when the parish dustman came,
His rubbish to withdraw,
He found more dust within the heap
Than he contracted for!

A dozen men to try the fact,
Were sworn that very day;

But though they all were jurors, yet
No conjurors were they.

Said Tim unto those jurymen,
"You need not waste your breath,
For I confess myself, at once,
The author of her death.

"And O, when I reflect upon

The blood that I have spilt, Just like a button is my soul, Inscribed with double guilt!"

Then turning round his head again

He saw before his eyes

A great judge, and a little judge,
The judges of a-size!

The great judge took his judgment-cap,
And put it on his head,

And sentenced Tim by law to hang
Till he was three times dead.

So he was tried, and he was hung
(Fit punishment for such)

On Horsham drop, and none can say
It was a drop too much.

Thomas Hood

THE ELF - CHILD

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs

away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth an'

sweep

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board

an' keep;

An' all us other children, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you

Ef you
Don't

Watch
Out!

Onc't they was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His mammy heerd him holler an' his daddy heerd him

bawl,

An' when they turn't the kivvers down he wasn't there

at all!