Do we care for the lily

Pick'd in Piccadilly,

Or grown by the "CAMPHORATE LUMP."

Do you sigh for ambrosial hair?

For clustering ringlets to match?
Little goose!

To the deuce

With pommades, learn the use

Of the BRUSH, and you'll soon have a thatch

That shall catch

The moustachio'd amasser

Of ROWLAND'S MACASSAR,
At twenty-five shillings a batch.

Is it ivory teeth you desire?
A set that no dentist e'er trammels?

To ROWLAND'S O-DONT-O

Cry, "No, that we won't O,

It softens the precious enamels !"

(Not Rachell's, but Schamyl's,

Sent packing, confound it,

To the Sultan Mahound,-it

'S au naturel, perched upon Camels.*)

Then toy not with powder and paste!
Sweet nymphs, they are deadliest foes;
NO PIVER persuade you—

No ROWLAND invade you—
In peace let each dimple repose

Where it grows!

When he shows

You his KALYDOR LOTION,

Reply, "We've a notion

No one ever seems to understand what this means: the author will therefore explain it. Thus-Schamyl is or was the first chief of Circassia, and as such had the felicity of supplying the Turkish Sultans with wives, who were sent to Constantinople on camels (or if they weren't it's of no consequence). Well then, these Circassian girls have always been celebrated for their beautiful teeth--enamel au naturel, in fact,-you see?

"It takes all the skin off one's nose!"

(As he goes)

Add, "There's nothing can beat yours

"For blist'ring the features

"But 'ATKINSON'S MILK OF THE ROSE!'"

And set St. Stephen's quivering,

And the Great Globe shuddering
In Leicester Square—

The great round Globe, spike-girdled,-
A child was sleeping there.

A boy, and small and ragged,

His muddy broom lay near;

How came he houseless, homeless,

How came he to be here,

With the dew glistening on his cheek? Or could it be a tear?

Why pillowed thus so hardly

Lay the once silken head?—

And a small voice beside me,

As to the thought unsaid,
Replied, "He ain't got nothing
To get himself a bed."