Of one alone I nightly dream,
An able mariner is he,

And gaily serves the Gen'ral Steam-
Boat Navigation Companec.
I'll marry him, if he but will-
His name, I rather think, is BILL.

"I see him when he's not aware,
Upon our hospitable coast,
Reclining with an easy air,

Upon the Port against a post, A-thinking of, I'll dare to say, His native Chelsea far away!"

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Mes yeux !" he said, which means my eye." "Oh, chère !" he also cried, I'm told,

"Par Jove," he added, with a sigh.

"Oh, mon! oh, chère ! mes yeux! par Jove!
Je n'aime pas cet enticing cove!"

The Panther's captain stood hard by,
He was a man of morals strict,
If e'er a sailor winked his eye,

Straightway he had that sailor licked,
Mast-headed all (such was his code)

Who dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed.

He wept to think a tar of his,

Should lean so gracefully on posts, He sighed and sobbed to think of this, On foreign, French, and friendly coasts. "It's human natur', p'raps-if so,

Oh, isn't human natur' low!"

He called his BILL, who pulled his curl,
He said, "My BILL, I understand
You've captivated some young gurl

On this here French and foreign land. Her tender heart your beauties jog— They do, you know they do, you dog.

"You have a graceful way I learn
Of leaning airily on posts,

By which you've been and caused to burn,
A tender flame on these here coasts.
A fisher gurl, I much regret,—

Her age, sixteen-her name, BABETTE.

"You'll marry her, you gentle tar-
Your union I myself will bless,
And when you matrimonied are,
I will appoint her stewardess."

But WILLIAM hitched himself and sighed,
And cleared his throat and thus replied:-

"Not so: Unless you're fond of strife, You'd better mind your own affairs,

I have an able-bodied wife

Awaiting me at Wapping Stairs,
If all this here to her I tell,
She'll larrup me and you as well.

"Skin-deep, and valued at a pin,

Is beauty such as VENUS Owns-Her beauty is beneath her skin, And lies in layers on her bones. The other sailors of the crew

"Oho!" the Captain said, "I see! And is she then so very strong?" "She'd take your honour's scruff," said he, "And pitch you over to Bolong!" "I pardon you," the captain said, "The fair BABETTE you needn't wed."

Perhaps the Customs had his will,
And coaxed the scornful girl to wed,
Perhaps the Captain and his BILL,
And WILLIAM'S little wife are dead;
Or p'raps they're all alive and well:
I cannot, cannot, cannot tell

Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution

I'll add)-Oh, buxom widow! married dame!
(As one of these must be your present portion)
Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you
And sing the fate that Fortune has in store
for you.

You'll marry soon- —within a year or twain
A bachelor of circa two and thirty,
Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain

And, when you're intimate, you'll call him "BERTIE.'

Neat-dresses well; his temper has been classified

As hasty; but he's very quickly pacified

You'll find him working mildly at the Bar,
After a touch at two or three professions,
From easy affluence extremely far

A brief or two on Circuit-" soup" at Sessions ; A pound or two from whist, and backing horses,

And, say three hundred from his own re

sources.