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Straight, straight towards that oaken beam,

A trampled pathway ran;

A ghastly shape was swinging there,-
It was the butcher man.

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OH! I did love her dearly,

And gave her toys and rings, And I thought she meant sincerely,

When she took my pretty things; But her heart has grown as icy

As a fountain in the fall, And her love, that was so spicy, It did not last at all.

I gave her once a locket,

It was filled with my own hair,
And she put it in her pocket
With very special care.
But a jeweller has got it,-
He offered it to me,
And another that is not it
Around her neck I see.

For my cooings and my billings
I do not now complain,

But my dollars and my shillings
Will never come again;

They were earned with toil and sorrow,
But I never told her that,

And now I have to borrow,
And want another hat.

Think, think, thou cruel Emma,
When thou shalt hear
my woe,
And know my sad dilemma,
That thou hast made it so.
See, see my beaver rusty,

Look, look upon this hole,
This coat is dim and dusty;
O let it rend thy soul!

Before the gates of fashion
I daily bent my knee,
But I sought the shrine of passion,
And found my idol, — thee;
Though never love intenser

Had bowed a soul before it, Thine eye was on the censer,

And not the hand that bore it.


I SAW the curl of his waving lash,

And the glance of his knowing eye, And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash, As his steed went thundering by.

And he may ride in the rattling gig,
Or flourish the Stanhope gay,
And dream that he looks exceeding big
To the people that walk in the way;

But he shall think, when the night is still,
On the stable-boy's gathering numbers,
And the ghost of many a veteran bill

Shall hover around his slumbers;

The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep,
And constables cluster around him,
And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep
Where their spectre eyes have found him!


Ay! gather your reins, and crack your thong,
And bid your steed go faster ;
He does not know, as he scrambles along,
That he has a fool for his master;

And hurry away on your lonely ride,
Nor deign from the mire to save me;
I will paddle it stoutly at your
With the tandem that nature gave me!


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