"You're right, my boy; hould up your head, And look like a jintleman, Sir; Sir Isaac Newton - who was he?

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Now tell me if you can, Sir."

'Sir Isaac Newton was the boy

That climbed the apple-tree, Sir;

He then fell down and broke his crown, And lost his gravity, Sir."

"You're right, my boy; hould up your head, And look like a jintleman, Sir;

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Jist tell me who ould Marmion was
Now tell me if you can, Sir."

Ould Marmion was a soldier bold,
But he went all to pot, Sir;

He was hanged upon the gallows tree,
For killing Sir Walter Scott, Sir."

'You're right, my boy; hould up your head, And look like a jintleman, Sir;

Jist tell me who Sir Rob Roy was; 'Now tell me if you can, Sir."

'Sir Rob Roy was a tailor to

The King of the Cannibal Islands; He spoiled a pair of breeches, and

Was banished to the Highlands.”

'You're right, my boy; hould up your head, And look like a jintleman, Sir; Then, Bonaparte say, who was he? Now tell me if you can, Sir." "Ould Bonaparte was King of France

Before the Revolution;

But he was kilt at Waterloo,

Which ruined his constitution."

You're right, my boy; hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, Sir;

Jist tell me who King Jonah was;
Now tell me if you can, Sir."

"King Jonah was the strangest man
That ever wore a crown, Sir;

For though the whale did swallow him,
It couldn't keep him down, Sir."

THE OWL-CRITIC

"Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop,

The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;

The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading

The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding

The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;

And the barber kept on shaving.

"Don't you see, Mr. Brown,"

Cried the youth, with a frown,
"How wrong the whole thing is,

How preposterous each wing is,

How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis !

I make no apology;

I've learned owl-eology.

I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,

And cannot be blinded to any deflections

Arising from unskilful fingers that fail

To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
Mister Brown! Mister Brown!

Do take that bird down,

Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!"
And the barber kept on shaving.