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THE SUPPER SUPERSTITION.

A PATHETIC BALLAD.

« Oh filesh, flesh, how art thou fishified !” – MERCUTIO.

.

1. 'Twas twelve o'clock by Chelsea chimes,

When all in hungry trim,
Good Mister Jupp sat down to sup

With wife, and Kate, and Jim.

II.

Said he, “Upon this dainty cod

How bravely I shall sup," —
When, whiter than the tablecloth,

A GHOST came rising up!

III.

“O, father dear, O, mother dear,

Dear Kate, and brother Jim,-
You know when some one went to sea,

Don't cry — but I am him !

IV. “ You hope some day with fond embrace

To greet your absent Jack, But oh, I am come here to say

I'm never coming back !

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“ From Alexandria we set sail,

With corn, and oil, and figs, But steering 'too much Sow,' we struck

Upon the Sow and Pigs !

VI.

“The Ship we pumped till we could see

Old England from the tops ; When down she went with all our hands,

Right in the Channel's Chops.

VII.

“ Just give a look in Norey's chart,

The very place it tells ;
I think it says twelve fathom deep,

Clay bottom, mixed with shells.

VIII.

“Well there we are till “hands aloft,

We have at last a call;
The pug I had for brother Jim,

Kate's parrot too, and all.

. IX.
“ But oh, my spirit cannot rest,

In Davy Jones's sod,
Till I've appeared to you and said, -

Don't sup on that 'ere Cod !

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“ You live on land, and little think

What passes in the sea ; Last Sunday week, at 2 P. M.

That Cod was picking me!

XI.

“ Those oysters too, that look so plump,

And seem so nicely done,
They put my corpse in many shells,

Instead of only one.

XII.

“O, do not eat those oysters then,

And do not touch the shrimps ; When I was in my briny grave,

They sucked my blood like imps !

XIII. “ Don't eat what brutes would never eat,

The brutes I used to pat, They 'll know the smell they used to smell,

Just try the dog and cat !”

XIV.
The Spirit fled — they wept his fate,

And cried, Alack, alack !
At last up started brother Jim,

“Let's try if Jack was Jack ! ”

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They called the Dog, they called the Cat,

And little Kitten too, And down they put the Cod and sauce,

To see what brutes would do.

XVI.
Old Tray licked all the oysters up,

Puss never stood at crimps,
But munched the Cod, and little Kit

Quite feasted on the shrimps !

XVII.
The thing was odd, and minus Cod

And sauce, they stood like posts ;
O, prudent folks, for fear of hoax,

Put no belief in Ghosts !

A STORM AT HASTINGS,

AND THE LITTLE UNKNOWN.

'Twas August – Hastings every day was fill

ing — Hastings, that “greenest spot on memory's

waste !” With crowds of idlers willing or unwilling To be bedipped - be noticed — or be braced, And all things rose a penny in a shilling. Meanwhile, from window and from door, in haste “ Accommodation bills ” kept coming down, Gladding “ the world of letters” in that town.

Each day poured in new coach-fulls of new cits,
Flying from London smoke and dust annoying,
Unmarried Misses hoping to make hits,
And new-wed couples fresh from Tunbridge toy-

ing,
Lacemen and placemen, ministers and wits,
And quakers of both sexes, much enjoying
A morning's reading by the ocean's rim, .
That sect delighting in the sea's broad brim.

And lo! amongst all these appeared a creature, So small, he almost might a twin have been

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