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Oh! when that form, a lovely one,
Hung on the neck its arms had flown to,
I little thought that you had run
A chance of hanging on your own too.

You said you picked me from the world,
My vanity it now must shock it —
And down at once my pride is hurled,
You've picked me - and you've picked a pocket!

Oh! when our love had got so far,
The banns were read by Dr. Daly,
Who asked if there was any bar
Why did not some one shout “ Old Bailey ?”

But when you robed your flesh and bones
In that pure white that angel garb is,
Who could have thought you, Mary Jones,
Among the Joans that link with Darbies ?

And when the parson came to say,
My goods were yours, if I had got any,
And you should honour and obey,
Who could have thought — “O Bay of Botany."

But, oh, — the worst of all-your slips
I did not till this day discover –
That down in Deptford's prison ships,
Oh, Mary! you ’ve a hulking lover!

NO. II.

“Love, with a witness !”

He has shaved off his whiskers and blackened

his brows, Wears a patch and a wig of false hair,But it's him — Oh it's him ! — we exchanged

lovers' vows, When I lived up in Cavendish Square.

He had beautiful eyes, and his lips were the same,
And his voice was as soft as a flute —
Like a Lord or a Marquis he looked, when he

came,
To make love in his master's best suit.

If I lived for a thousand long years from my

birth, I shall never forget what he told; How he loved me beyond the rich women of earth, With their jewels and silver and gold !

When he kissed me and bade me adieu with a

sigh, By the light of the sweetest of moons, Oh how little I dreamt I was bidding good-bye To my Missis's teapot and spoons !

NO. III.

“I'd be a Parody.” — BAILEY. We met — t'was in a mob — and I thought he

had done me — I felt — I could not feel—for no watch was upon

me; He ran — the night was cold — and his pace was

unaltered, I too longed much to pelt — but my small-boned

legs faltered. I wore my bran new boots — and unrivalled their

brightness, They fit me to a hair — how I hated their tight

ness ! I called, but no one came, and my stride had a

tether Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my

leather!

And once again we met — and an old pal was

near him, He swore, a something low - but 'twas no use to

fear him ; I seized upon his arm, he was mine and mine

only, And stept — as he deserved -- to cells wretched

and lonely : And there he will be tried — but I shall ne'er

receive her,

The watch that went too sure for an artful de

ceiver ; The world may think me gay,— heart and feet

ache together, Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my

leather.

FRENCH AND ENGLISH.

“Good heaven! Why even the little children in France speak French!"

ADDISON.

NEVER go to France
Unless you know the lingo,

If you do, like me,
You will repent by jingo.
Staring like a fool,
And silent as a mummy,
There I stood alone,
A nation with a dummy:

Chaises stand for chairs,
They christen letters Billies,
They call their mothers mares,
And all their daughters fillies ;

Strange it was to hear,
I'll tell you what 's a good ’un,
They call their leather queer,
And half their shoes are wooden.

III.

Signs I had to make,
For every little notion,
Limbs all going like
A telegraph in motion,
For wine I reeled about,
To show my meaning fully,
And made a pair of horns,
To ask for “beef and bully.”

IV. Moo! I cried for milk ; I got my sweet things snugger, When I kissed Jeannette, 'Twas understood for sugar. If I wanted bread, My jaws I set a-going, And asked for new-laid eggs. By clapping hands and crowing !

V.
If I wished a ride,
I'll tell you how I got it ;
On my stick astride,
I made believe to trot it;

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