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The breeze still a stiffening,
The trumpet quite deafening;
Thoughts of repentance,
And doomsday and sentence;
Everything sinister,

Not a church minister,—

Pilot a blunderer,

Coral reefs under her,

Ready to sunder her;
Trunks tipsy-topsy,
The ship in a dropsy;
Waves oversurging her,
Syrens a-dirgeing her;
Sharks all expecting her,
Sword-fish dissecting her,
Crabs with their hand-vices
Punishing land vices:
Sea-dogs and unicorns,

Things with no puny horns,

Mermen carnivorous-
"Good Lord deliver us!"

ANACREONTIC.

BY A FOOTMAN.

T'S wery well to talk in praise
Of Tea and Water-drinking ways,
In proper time and place;

Of sober draughts, so clear and cool,

Dipp'd out of a transparent pool
Reflecting heaven's face.

Of babbling brooks, and purling rills,
And streams as gushes from the hills,

It's wery well to talk ;

But what becomes of all sich schemes,
With ponds of ice, and running streams
As doesn't even walk?

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THE FORLORN SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT. 51

When Winter comes with piercing cold,

And all the rivers, new or old,

Is frozen far and wide;

And limpid springs is solid stuff,
And crystal pools is hard enough
To skate upon and slide ;-

What then are thirsty men to do,
But drink of ale, and porter too,
Champagne as makes a fizz;
Port, sherry, or the Rhenish sort,
And p'rhaps a drop of summut short-
The water-pipes is friz!

THE FORLORN SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT.

AN UNPUBLISHED POEM, FROM SYDNEY.

ELL! Here I am-no Matter how it suits,
A-keeping Company with them dumb Brutes,
Old Park vos no bad Judge-confound his vig!
of vot vood break the Sperrit of a Prig!

"The like of Me, to come to New Sow Wales To go a-tagging arter Vethers' Tails

And valk in Herbage as delights the Flock,

But stinks of Sweet Herbs vorser nor the Dock!

"To go to set this solitary Job

To Von whose Vork vos alvay in a Mob!

It's out of all our Lines, for sure I am
Jack Shepherd even never kep a Lamb!

"I arn't ashamed to say I sit and veep
To think of Seven Years of keepin Sheep,
The spooniest Beasts in Nater, all to Sticks,
And not a Votch to take for all their Ticks!

"If I'd fore-seed how Transports vood turn out To only Baa! and Botanize about,

I'd quite as leaf have had the t'other Pool,
And come to Cotton as to all this Vool!

"Von only happy moment I have had
Since here I come to be a Farmer's Cad,
And then I cotch'd a vild Beast in a Snooze,
And pick'd her Pouch of three young Kangaroos !

"Vot chance have I to go to Race or Mill?
Or show a sneaking Kindness for a Till;
And as for Vashings, on a hedge to dry,
I'd put the Natives' Linen in my Eye!

"If this whole Lot of Mutton I could scrag,
And find a fence to turn it into Swag,
I'd give it all in Lonnon Streets to stand,
And if I had my pick, I'd say the Strand!

"But ven I goes, as maybe vonce I shail,
To my old crib to meet with Jack, and Sal,
I've been so gallows honest in this Place,
I shan't not like to show my sheepish Face.

"It's wery hard for nothing but a Box
Of Irish Blackguard to be keepin' Flocks,
'Mong naked Blacks, sich Savages to hus,
They've nayther got a Poker nor a Pus.

"But Folks may tell their Troubles till they're sick
To dumb brute Beasts, -and so I'll cut my Stick!
And vot's the Use a Feller's Eyes to pipe
Vere von can't borrow any Gemman's Vipe?'

HUGGINS AND DUGGINS.

A PASTORAL AFTER POPE.

WO swains or clowns-but call them swains-
While keeping flocks on Salisbury Plains,
For all that tend on sheep as drovers,
Are turned to songsters, or to lovers,

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