I got a little boy into the Foundling, but his unfortunate mother

was traced and baited,

And the overseers found her out-and she found me out-and the child was affiliated.

Oh, Charity will come home to roost

Like curses and chickens is Charity.

I once, near Whitehall's very old wall, when ballads danced over the whole of it,

Put a bad five-shilling-piece into a beggar's hat, but the old hat had got a hole in it;

And a little boy caught it in his little hat, and an officer's eye seem'd to care for it,

As my bad crown piece went through his bad crown piece, and they took me up to Queen's Square for it.

Oh, Charity, &c.

I let my very old (condemn'd) old house to a man, at a rent that was shockingly low,

So I found a roof for his ten motherless babes-all defunct and

fatherless now;

For the plaguy one-sided party wall fell in, so did the roof, on son and daughter,

And twelve jurymen sat on eleven bodies, and brought in a very personal verdict of Manslaughter.

Oh, Charity, &c.

I pick'd up a young well-dress'd gentleman, who had fallen in a fit in St. Martin's Court,

And charitably offer'd to see him home-for charity always seem'd to be my forte,

And I've had presents for seeing fallen gentlemen home, but this was a very unlucky job-

Do you know, he got my watch-my purse-and my handkerchief -for it was one of the swell mob. Oh, Charity, &c.

Being four miles from Town, I stopt a horse that had run away with a man, when it seem'd that they must be dash'd to pieces,

Though several kind people were following him with all their might-but such following a horse his speed increases ;

I held the horse while he went to recruit his strength; and I meant to ride it home, of course;

But the crowd came up and took me up-for it turn'd out the man had run away with the horse.

Oh, Charity, &c.

I watch'd last month all the drovers and drivers about the suburbs, for it's a positive fact,

That I think the utmost penalty ought always to be enforced against everybody under Mr. Martin's act;

But I couldn't catch one hit over the horns, or over the shins, or on the ears, or over the head;

And I caught a rheumatism from early wet hours, and got five weeks of ten swell'd fingers in bed. Oh, Charity, &c.

Well, I've utterly done with Charity, though I used so to preach about its finest fount;

Charity may do for some that are more lucky, but I can't turn it to any account

It goes so the very reverse way-even if one chirrups it up with a dust of piety;

That henceforth let it be understood, I take my name entirely out of the List of Subscribers to the Humane Society. Oh, Charity, &c.

THE CHINA MENDER.

1OOD morning, Mr. What-d'ye-call! Well! here's another pretty job!

Lord help my Lady!-what a smash !—if you had only heard her sob!

It was all through Mr. Lambert: but for certain he was winey, To think for to go to sit down on a table full of Chiney.

"Deuce take your stupid head!" says my Lady to his very face; But politeness, you know, is nothing, when there's Chiney in the

case;

And if ever a woman was fond of Chiney to a passion

It's my mistress, and all sorts of it, whether new or old fashion.

Her brother's a sea-captain, and brings her home shiploads—

Such bonzes, and such dragons, and nasty, (squatting things like

toads; >

And great nidnoddin' mandarins, with palsies in the head :

I declare I've often dreamt of them, and had nightmares in my bed. But the frightfuller they are-lawk! she loves them all the

better:

She'd have Old Nick himself made of Chiney if they'd let her. Lawk-a-mercy! break her Chiney, and it's breaking her very heart;

If I touch'd it, she would very soon say, "Mary, we must part."
To be sure she is unlucky: only Friday comes Master Randall,
And breaks a broken spout, and fresh chips a tea-cup handle :
He's a dear, sweet little child, but he will so finger and touch,
And that's why my Lady doesn't take to children much.
Well there's stupid Mr. Lambert, with his two great coat flaps,
Must go and sit down on the Dresden shepherdesses' laps,

As if there was no such things as rosewood chairs in the room;
I couldn't have made a greater sweep with the handle of the

broom.

Mercy on us! how my mistress began to rave and tear!

Well! after all, there's nothing like good ironstone ware for

wear.

If ever I marry, that's flat, I'm sure it won't be John Dockery,I should be a wretched woman in a shop full of crockery.

I should never like to wipe it, though I love to be neat and tidy, And afraid of mad bulls on market-days every Monday and

Friday.

I'm very much mistook if Mr. Lambert's will be a catch;

The breaking the Chiney will be the breaking-off of his own

match.

Missis wouldn't have an angel, if he was careless about Chiney;
She never forgives a chip, if it's ever so small, and tiny.
Lawk! I never saw a man in all my life in such a taking ;
I could find in my heart to pity him for all his mischief-making.
To see him stand a-hammering and stammering, like a zany;
But what signifies apologies, if they won't mend old Chaney!
If he sent her up whole crates full, from Wedgwood's and Mr.

Spode's,

He couldn't make amends for the crack'd mandarins and smash'd

toads.

Well! every one has their tastes, but, for my part, my own self,
I'd rather have the figures on my poor dear grandmother's old shelf:
A nice pea-green poll-parrot, and two reapers with brown ears of

corns,

And a shepherd with a crook after a lamb with two gilt horns,
And such a Jemmy Jessamy in top boots and sky-blue vest,
And a frill and flower'd waistcoat, with a fine bowpot at the
breast.

God help her, poor old soul! I shall come into 'em at her death, Though she's a hearty woman for her years, except her shortness of breath.

Well! you think the things will mend-if they won't, Lord mend us all!

My Lady will go in fits, and Mr. Lambert won't need to call :
I'll be bound in any money, if I had a guinea to give,

He won't sit down again on Chiney the longest day he has to

live.

Poor soul! I only hope it won't forbid his bans of marriage,

Or he'd better have sat behind on the spikes of my Lady's

carriage.

But you'll join 'em all of course, and stand poor Mr. Lambert's

friend;

I'll look in twice a day, just to see, like, how they mend.

To be sure it is a sight that might draw tears from dogs and cats; Here's this pretty little pagoda, now, has lost four of its cocked

hats:

Be particular with the pagoda: and then here's this pretty bowlThe Chinese Prince is making love to nothing because of this

hole;

And here's another Chinese man, with a face just like a doll

Do stick his pigtail on again, and just mend his parasol.

But I needn't tell you what to do; only do it out of hand,

And charge whatever you like to charge-my Lady won't make a

stand.

Well! good morning, Mr. What-d'ye-call; for it's time our gossip

ended :

And you know the proverb, the less as is said, the sooner the Chiney's mended.

CAME to town a happy man':

I need not now dissemble
Why I return so sad at heart-

It's all through Fanny Kemble:
Oh when she threw her flowers away,
What urged the tragic slut on
To weave in such a wreath as that,
Ah me! a bachelor's button.

None fought so hard, none fought so well,
As I to gain some token-

When all the pit rose up in arms,

And heads and hearts were broken; "Huzza!" said I, "I'll have a flower

As sure as my name's Dutton ;"