The Jackdaw.

Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree-show,
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his case.

You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.

He sees, that this great round-about, The World, with all it's motley rout, Church, army, physic, law,

Its customs, and its businesses,

Is no concern at all of his,

And says-what says he?-Caw.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men;
And, sick of having seen 'em,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,

And such a head between 'em.

N painted plumes superbly dress'd,
A native of the gorgeous east,
By many a billow toss'd;

Poll gains at length the British shore, Part of the captain's precious store,

A present to his toast.

Belinda's maids are soon preferr'd,

To teach him now and then a word,

As Poll can master it;

The Parrot.

But 'tis her own important charge,
To qualify him more at large,

And make him quite a wit.

"Sweet Poll!" his doating mistress cries, "Sweet Poll!" the mimic bird replies;

And calls aloud for sack.

She next instructs him in the kiss; 'Tis now a little one, like Miss, And now a hearty smack.

At first he aims at what he hears;

And, list'ning close with both his ears,

Just catches at the sound;

But soon articulates aloud,

Much to th' amusement of the crowd,
And stuns the neighbours round.

A querulous old woman's voice
His hum'rous talent next employs,

He scolds, and gives the lie.
And now he sings, and now is sick,
"Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick,
Poor Poll is like to die!"

Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare,

To meet with such a well-match'd pair,

The language and the tone, Each character in ev'ry part

Sustain'd with so much grace

And both in unison.

and art,

When children first begin to spell,
And stammer out a syllable,

We think them tedious creatures;

But difficulties soon abate,

When birds are to be taught to prate,
And women are the teachers.

And why does thy nose look so blue?

""Tis the weather that's cold,

'Tis I'm grown very old,

And

my

doublet is not very new,

Well-a-day!"

Then line thy worn doublet with ale,

Gaffer Gray;

And

Gaffer Gray.

warm thy old heart with a glass.
"Nay, but credit I've none,
And my money's all gone;

Then

Hie

say how may that come to pass? Well-a-day!"

away to the house on the brow,
Gaffer Gray;

And knock at the jolly priest's door.
"The priest often preaches

Against worldly riches,

But ne'er gives a mite to the poor,
Well-a-day!"

The lawyer lives under the hill,
Gaffer Gray;

Warmly fenced both in back and in front.

"He will fasten his locks,

And will threaten the stocks

Should he ever more find me in want,
Well-a-day!"

The squire has fat beeves and brown ale,
Gaffer Gray;

And the season will welcome you there.
"His fat beeves and his beer,

And his merry new year,

Are all for the flush and the fair,
Well-a-day!"

My keg is but low, I confess,

Gaffer Gray;

What then? While it lasts, man, we'll live.

"The poor man alone,

When he hears the poor moan,

Of his morsel a morsel will give,

Well-a-day!"