The entertainment to your mind, As I shall treat ye, A friend or two of goblin kind, I've asked to meet ye." And lo! a crowd of spectres tall, Like jack-a-lanterns on a wall, Were standing,-every ghastly ball 66 An eager watcher. My friends," says Death-"friends, Mr. Hall, The body-snatcher." Lord, what a tumult it produced, To frightful things, Felt just as if his back was sluiced With freezing springs! Each goblin face began to make Some horrid mouth-ape-gorgon — snake; And then a spectre-hag would shake An airy thigh-bone; And cried (or seemed to cry), I'll break Your bone with my bone! Some ground their teeth; some seemed to spit – (Nothing but nothing came of it); A hundred awful brows were knit In dreadful spite. Thought Jack—I'm sure I'd better quit, Without good-night. 1 One skip and hop, and he was clear, As fleet as people run by fear Well spurred and whipped, Death, ghosts, and all in that career But those who live by death, must die; Of doctors came; but not to try No ravens ever scented prey A dozen "guests" day after day Were "at his pulse." 'T was strange, although they got no fees, How still they watched by twos and threes: But Jack a very little ease Obtained from them; In fact he did not find M. D.s Worth one D― M. The passing bell with hollow toll Was in his thought; the dreary hole! Jack gave his eyes a horrid roll, "There's something weighing on my soul I wish was off; "All night it roves about my brains, All day it adds to all my pains: It is concerning my remains When I am dead :" Twelve wigs and twelve gold-headed canes Drew near his bed. "Alas!" he sighed, "I'm sore afraid, In flesh and bone, There was a little bargain made Twelve suits of black began to close, Twelve noses turned against his nose, "Ten guineas did not quite suffice, In short, I have received its price A dozen times!" Twelve brows got very grim and black, Twelve wishes stretched him on the rack, Twelve pair of hands for fierce attack Took up position, Ready to share the dying Jack By long division. Twelve angry doctors wrangled so, On the departed; Twelve heads turned round at once, and lo! Twelve doctors started. Whether some comrade of the dead, Or Satan took it in his head To steal the corpse the corpse had fled! 'Tis only written, That "there was nothing in the bed, But twelve were bitten." JOHN TROT. A BALLAD. JOHN TROT he was as tall a lad As his dear Granny used to say, A sergeant soon came down to York, With ribbons and a frill; "My lads," said he, "let broadcast be, And come away to drill." But when he wanted John to 'list, Where what is called a raw recruit Gets often over-done. "Let others carry guns," said he, For John he had a footman's place She was a dumpy woman, though Her family was high. Now when two years had passed away, Her lord took very ill, And left her to her widowhood, Of course more dumpy still. Said John, “I am a proper man, And very tall to see; Who knows, but now, her lord is low, may look up to me? She "A cunning woman told me once, Such fortune would turn up; |