40

MY ONLY WEAKNESS.

What a darling it was!-I escorted her back
From the Temple of Thespis at night.
Though my present was looking remarkably black,
I'd a future uncommonly bright.

From a boy in the office I grew to be clerk,

At a figure of sixty per ann.

While my love (in low comedy) made such a mark That she won all the press to a man.

I was most energetic, and stuck to my desk
From a quarter to ten until five ;—

While the hope of my future became in burlesque
The most promising actress alive.

Whether Byron or Albery, Reece or Burnand

Were the author, I cared not a bit.

In that house, not a million of miles from the Strand, My adored was the pet of the pit.

I'm a partner (a junior) in Something and Co. ;
And am very well off in my way.

To the circle or stalls of an evening I go

If my lady-love happens to play.

I am elderly now, and-for want of a wife

I shall die an old bachelor yet;

But the one little weakness I've known in

I shall never-no, never-forget.

my

life

STANZAS.

(BY HAYNES BAYLY THE SECOND.)

HE Broadwood is opened, its tapers are lit,
And my hostess implores me to play;

She would hear me accompany lines full of
wit

In my truly musicianlike way.

But my lyrics were made for the careless and free,
When my heart and my spirits were light:
Seek the lays of the lively from others, not me;
Let my song be a sad one to-night.

Leave, leave me, fair lady, to cherish my gloom
In a corner far, far from the throng :

Let me carry some chair to the end of the room,
And retreat from the dance and the song.
Let me mask my depression and veil my despair

From the crowd of the brilliant and bright;

Or, in case you insist upon hearing an air,
Let my song be a sad one to-night.

I could warble "The Last Rose of Summer," perhaps,

In a plaintive and exquisite style:

But I know I should simply and feebly collapse
In my efforts to conjure a smile.

The low-comedy manner, the sickly grimace,
Would be rather too painful a sight:-

With a load on my bosom, a cloud on my face,
Let my song be a sad one to-night.

Not a particle, thank you. No fluids can cheer
Such a state of dejection as mine.

It resists the seductive advances of beer,
And refuses the solace of wine.

No, I cannot be comic, fair lady. I trust

You regard my refusal aright.

Well, of course, if you must have a ballad, you must,— Let my song be a sad one to-night.

MORE STANZAS.

(BY HAYNES BAYLY THE SECOND.)

HAVE taken six glasses of sherry,

I trust they will ask me to sing ; I am feeling uncommonly merry, And pine to go in for my fling. I would give them no die-away ditty; My lay should be jocund and light. Bother sentiment-let me be witty; Oh! let me be comic to-night.

As I sit here alone in a corner-
A slighted though eminent guest-
I resemble poor little Jack Horner,
Except that the pie is non est.
Yet I fain would be awfully jolly,
I fain would be gay if I might;
I am ready for frolic and folly-
Oh! let me be comic to-night.

44

MORE STANZAS.

I was grieved when my opulent uncle
Was taken so terribly ill.

'Tis a fearful affair, a carbuncle ;
And baffles all medical skill.

He is gone and has left me to suffer:
But Time puts our sorrows to flight.
He has left me his money, poor buffer :-
Oh! let me be comic to-night.

Let me try; I am perfectly ready,
I've sat in this corner too long;
But my legs are a little unsteady-
That wine was remarkably strong.
Did you say I was tipsy? Oh gammon !
Just lift me up gently. All right.—
I can sing, sir. 'Twas only the salmon.
Oh! let me be comic to-night.