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536

LINES ON TIPPERARY.

Implored the aid of "Paddy Carey,"
Yet still no rhyme for Tipperary;
He next besought his mother Mary,
To tell him rhyme for Tipperary;
But she, good woman, was no fairy,
Nor witch-though born in Tipperary;
Knew everything about her dairy,
But not the rhyme for Tipperary;
The stubborn Muse he could not vary,
For still the lines would run contrary,
Whene'er he thought on Tipperary;
And though of time he was not chary,
"Twas thrown away on Tipperary;
Till of his wild-goose chase most weary,
He vowed to leave out Tipperary;
But, no-the theme he might not vary,
His longing was not temporary,
To find meet rhyme for Tipperary ;
He sought among the gay and airy,
He pestered all the military,
Committed many a strange vagary,
Bewitched, it seemed, by Tipperary.
He wrote post-haste to Darby Leary,
Besought with tears his Auntie Sairie,
But sought he far, or sought he near, he
Ne'er found a rhyme for Tipperary.
He travelled sad through Cork and Kerry,
He drove "like mad" through sweet Dunbary,
Kicked up a precious tantar-ara,
But found no rhyme for Tipperary ;
Lived fourteen weeks at Straw-ar-ara,
Was well-nigh lost in Glenègary,
Then started "slick" for Demerara,
In search of rhyme for Tipperary,
Through "Yankee-land," sick, solitary,
He roamed by forest, lake, and prairie-
He went per terrem et per mare-
But found no rhyme for Tipperary.
Through orient climes on dromedary,
On camel's back through great Sahara―
His travels were extraordinary—
In search of rhyme for Tipperary.
Fierce as a gorgon or chimæra,
Fierce as Alecto or Megæra,

Fiercer than e'er a love-sick bear he
Raged through "the londe" of Tipperary;
His cheeks grew thin, and wondrous hairy,
His visage long, his aspect "eerie,"

FASHIONABLE WEDDING.

His tout ensemble, faith! 'twould scare yc,
Amidst the wilds of Tipperary.
Becoming hypocon-dri-ary,

He sent for his apothecary,

Who ordered "balm" and saponary—
Herbs rare to find in Tipperary.

In his potations ever wary,

His choicest drink was "home gooseberry."
On swipes, skim-milk, and smallest beer, he
Scanted rhyme for his Tipperary.
Had he imbibed good old Madeira,
Drank "pottle-deep" of golden sherry,
Of Falstaff sack, or ripe canary,
No rhyme had lacked for Tipperary.
Or had his tastes been literary,
He might have found extemporary,
Without the aid of dictionary,
Some fitting rhyme for Tipperary.
Or had he been an antiquary,
Burnt midnight oil in his library,
Or been of temper less "camsteary,"
Rhymes had not lacked for Tipperary.
He paced about his aviary,

Blew up sky-high his secretary,

And then in truth and anger sware he,

There was no rhyme for Tipperary.

537

GEORGE KING'S PETITION.

About the second year of King George's reign, a man of the name of George King was convicted in Dublin of a capital felony. He drew up a memorial to the King, which he forwarded with the following lines:

GEORGE KING to King George sends his humble petition,
Hoping King George will pity poor George King's condition,
If King George to George King will grant a long day,
George King for King George for ever will pray.

The man was pardoned.

FASHIONABLE WEDDING.

FOUR-AND-TWENTY groomsmen, all in a row;
Four-and-twenty dandies dressed from top to toe;
Four-and-twenty grimaces, four-and-twenty smiles,
And the carriages extending four-and-twenty miles,

538

THE SHAVERS.

Four-and-twenty bridesmaids dressed in hoop and feather,
Eight-and-forty flunkies standing all together,
The bride ringed and jewelled,

The groom gloved and glum,
And both of them look foolish,
And both of them are dumb;
A thousand spectators

To see the pretty match,
A thousand tongues to whisper,
"He's made quite a catch.'
Eight-and-forty ninnies
Marching out of church,
Like so many schoolboys
Running from the birch.

Oh, what a sight to look upon as ever I did see,
The world makes a great fuss for nothing, seems to me.

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An old rhymster says:

The barber shaves with polished blade,
The mercer shaves with ladies' trade,
The broker shaves at twelve per cent.,
The landlord shaves by raising rent,

A LITTLE MORE.

The doctor shaves in draughts and pills,
The tapster shaves in pints and gills,
The farmer shaves in hay and oats,
The banker shaves in his own notes,
The lawyer shaves both friends and foes,
The pedlar shaves where'er he goes,
The wily merchant shaves his brother,
The people all shave one another.

539

BLANK VERSE.

TO THE SUSPENSHUN BRIDGE, NIAGARY RIVER.

ANORMUS structur! Whar, I'de like to know,
Did the construckturs stand as bilt this rode
Rite throo the air ? Say, gentle Mews,
Wot had they to hold on to? But alas!
The Mews ses nuthun. O, Jerusalem!
Wot boyed 'em up! Imadginashun's flored-
Kant get the hang of it!

I have it now

They did it in balloons?

A LITTLE MORE.

(At Thirty.)

FIVE hundred dollars I have saved-
A rather moderate store-

No matter: I shall be content
When I've a little more.

(At Forty.)

Well, I can count ten thousand now

That's better than before;

And I may well be satisfied

When I've a little more.

(At Fifty.)

Some fifty thousand-pretty well-
But I have earned it sore;
However, I shall not complain
When I've a little more.

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A SONG BY A CONTENTED FELLOW.

Oн, 'tis all one to me, all one,

Whether I've money or whether I've none.

He who has money can buy him a wife,
And he who has none can be free for life.

He who has money can trade if he choose,
And he who has none has nothing to lose.

He who has money has cares not a few,
And he who has none can sleep the night through.

He who has money can squint at the fair,
And he who has none escapes from much care.

He who has money can go to the play,
And he who has none at home can stay.

He who has money can travel about,
And he who has none can do without.

He who has money can be coarse as he will,
And he who has none can be coarser still.

He who has money can drink the best wine,
And he who has none with the gout will not pine.

He who has money the cash must pay,
And who has none says "Charge it, Ï pray.”

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