BATTLE OF THE KEGS.-F. HOPKINSON.
GALLANTS, attend, and hear a friend,
Thrill forth harmonious ditty:
Strange things I'll tell, which late befel
In Philadelphia city.
'Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on log of wood,
And saw a sight surprising.
As in a maze, he stood to gaze,
(The truth can't be denied, sir)
He spied a score of KEGS or more
Come floating down the tide, sir.
A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,
The strange appearance viewing,
Wide ope'd his eyes, in great surprise;
Then said-" Some mischief's brewing.
"These KEGS now hold the rebels bold, "Pack'd up like pickled herring;
And they're come down, t' attack the town "In this new way of ferry'ng."
The soldier flew-the sailor too
And, scar'd almost to death, sir,
Wore out their shoes, to spread the news;
And ran till out of breath, sir.
Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted:
And some ran here, and some ran there,
Like men almost distracted.
Some "Fire!" cried; which some denied,
Some said the earth did quake:
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran as if their necks to break.
Sir William* he, snug as a flea,
Lay all this time a snoring;
Nor dreamt of harm, as he lay warm
Within his pleasant mooring.
Now in a fright, he starts upright,
Awak'd by such a clatter:
He rubs both eyes; and boldly cries,
"Why, mercy! what's the matter?"
At his bed-side, he then espied
Sir Erskinet at command, sir;
Upon one foot, he had one boot,
And t' other in his hand, sir.
"Arise! arise!" sir Erskine cries:
"The rebels-more's the pity"Without a boat, are all on float, "And rang'd before the city.
"The motley crew, in vessels new,
"With Satan for their guide, sir,
"Pack'd up in bags, or wooden KEGS,
"Come driving down the tide, sir.
"Therefore, prepare for bloody war:
"These KEGS must all be routed:
"Or surely we despised shall be,
"And British courage doubted.”
The royal band now steady stand,
All rang'd in dread array, sir.
With stomachs stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.
The cannons roar, from shore to shore;
The small arms make a rattle,
Since wars began, I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.
The rebel * vales, the rebel dales,
With rebel trees surrounded,
The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.
The fish below swam to and fro,
Attack'd from ev'ry quarter:
"Why sure," thought they, "there's a mighty fray
"'Mongst folks above the water."
The KEGS, 'tis said, though strongly made
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,
The conqu'ring British troops, sir.
From morn to night, those men of might
Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,
Retir'd to sup their porridge.
An hundred men, with each a pen,
Or more, upon my word, sir,
It is most true, would be too few,
Their valor to record, sir.
Such feats did they perform that day,
Upon those wicked KEGS, sir,
That years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir.
* The British officers were so fond of the word rebel, that they often applied it most absurdly.
ORATOR PUFF.-THOMAS MOORE.
MR. ORATOR PUFF had two tones in his voice,
The one squeaking thus, and the other down so;
In each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice,
For one half was B alt, and the rest G below.
Oh! oh! Orator Puff,
One voice for an orator's surely enough.
But he still talked away, spite of coughs and of frowns,
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs,
That a wag once, on hearing the orator say,
"My voice is for war," asked him, " Which of them pray?"
Oh! oh! Orator Puff,
One voice for an orator's surely enough.
Reeling homewards, one evening, top-heavy with gin,
And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown,
He tripp'd near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in,
Sinking fund," the last words as his noddle came down,
Oh! oh! Orator Puff,
One voice for an orator's surely enough.
"Oh! save!" he exclaim'd, in his he-and-she-tones,
"Help me out! help me out!—I have broken my bones !"
"Help you out!" said a Paddy, who passed, "what a bother!
Why, there's two of you there; can't you help one another ?"
Oh! oh! Orator Puff,
One voice for an orator's surely enough.
LIVING UP FIVE PAIR OF STAIRS.-ANON.
SUCH a thing as true bliss in this life is a bubble,
For all the world over man's weigh'd down by trouble:
'Tis true there are some who are favor'd by fate,
But still more or less woe on all doth await.
Some grievance or other our peace is destroying,
Though each person thinks his own case most annoying-
But listen to me while my sad muse declares,
The horrors of living up five pair of stairs;
Hear how multitudes suffer from living too high,
In tenements built up almost to the sky.
As your wife and your daughters are quietly sitting
At dinner, or tea, or sewing, or knitting,
They're rous'd by a knock-one runs down but to find
A fellow loud bawling:-" Scissors to grind !"
She scarcely gets back, when the bell her ear catches,
She runs down again-there's a beggar with matches !
And so all day long with their various wares,
Those street-traders bring her down five pair of stairs.
The house that you live in, is aged and hoary,
And as you are dwelling upon the fifth story,
When a shower comes on, you must tug with a mop,
For the snow and the rain both come in at the top.
And on some windy night when a deep sleep you're all in,
You 're suddenly woke by the house top a falling;
Fate only kills you, all the others it spares,
Who were not residing up five pair of stairs.
From slumber you're roused by loud knocking and ringing,
Which causes you quick from your bed to be springing;
To get on your clothes you are all in a worry,
But a second peal forces you down in a hurry.
You open the door to see who it is dunning,
But the rascal who rung, is fast away running,
With a laugh loud and hearty along as he tears,
At dragging you naked down five pair of stairs.
Some morning while sitting at home at your leisure,
You say to yourself" I'll be my own glazier!
The windows are dirty-I'll give them a dust,"
So outside on the ledge soon your body you thrust,
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