Shoulders rising over his ears,
Face just like the moon in full again ;
Legs in shape like a tailor's sheers,

You ne'er saw the fellow of Captain Mulligan,
Limping, twaddling, Miss O'Shea :
Glances pitching him,

Quite bewitching him,
Ogling bonnily,

Squinting funnily,

She was a Vanus, to Captain Mulligan.

66

O, sweet Kitty,
You're so pretty,"

(Soft he cried, the brave O'Mulligan ;)
" Ꮎ sweet Kitty,

Pretty

Witty,

Kitty,

Married, how they'd alter'd their tune;
Love, once fierce, faith! soon grew cool again :
When they'd pass'd the sweet honey-moon,
She blacken'd the eye of brave Captain Mulligan,
Whisky tippling,

Night and day,

Scolding, fighting him,"
Horns affrighting him

Och! be aisy now,
Troth you're crazy now!"

The devil go with you then Mrs. Mulligan,
Faith, I knew it,

I should rue it!"

(Sad he cried poor Captain Mulligan,) "You're my gruel,

Cruel,

Jewel,

Come, jolly Bacchus.'

COME jolly Bacchus, god of wine,
Crown this night with pleasure;
Let none at cares of life repine,
To destroy our pleasure:
Fill up the mighty sparkling bowl,
That ev'ry true and loyal soul
May drink and sing without controul,
To support our pleasure.

Thus, mighty Bacchus, shalt thou be
Guardian of our treasure;
That under thy protection we

May enjoy new pleasure.
And as the hours glide away,

We'll in thy name invoke their stay,
And sing thy praises that we may
Live and die with pleasure.

O'er hills and high mountains,
We'll drink dry the fountains,
Until the sun rises again, brave boys,
Until the sun rises again.
Then here's to thee, by boy boon,
And here's to thee, by boy boon;
As we've tarry'd all day

For to drink down the sun,

So we'll tarry and drink down the moon,
brave boys,

So we'll tarry and drink down the moon,

Cockney Sportsman.

DON'T you see that as how I'm a sportsman in style,

All so kickish, so slim, and so tall!

Why I've search'd after game, and that many's the

mile,

And seed no bit of nothing at all.

My licence I pockets, my pony I strides,

And I pelts through the wind and the rain, And if likely to fall, sticks the spurs in the sides, Leaves the bridle, and holds by the mane : To be sure dad at home kicks up no little strife: But, daddy, what's that-en't it fashion and life?

And at sporting I never was known for to lag,
I was also in danger the first:

When at Epping, last Easter, they turn'd out a stag,
I'm the lad that was roll'd in the dust;

M

Then they calls me a nincom! why over the fields—
There a little beyond Dulwich Common,
Ia chick and a goose tumbled neck over heels,
And two mudlarks, besides an old woman.

Then let miserly dad kick up sorrow and strife, I'm the lad that's genteel, and knows fashion and life.

But don't go for to think I neglects number one!
Often, when my companions with ardour
Are hunting about with the dog and the gun,
I goes and I hunts in the larder:

There I springs me a woodcock, or flushes a quail,
Or finds puss as she sits under cover;
Then so-ho to the barrel, to start me some ale:
And when I have din'd and fed Rover,

Pays my landlord his shot, as I ogles his wife, While the daughter cries out-Lord, what fashion and life.

Then I buys me some game, all as homeward we jog;
And when the folks ax-how I got 'em:
Though I shooted but once, and then kill'd the poor
dog,

I swears, and then stands to't, I've shot'em; So come round me, ye sportsmen, that's smart and what not,

All stylish and cutting a flash,

When your piece wo'nt kill game, charg'd with powder and shot,

To bring them down-down with your cash! And if with their jokes and their jeers folks are rife, Why, dabby, says you, en't it fashion and life?

Sailor's Philosophy.

IBE one of those sailors who think 'tis no lie, That for every wherefore in life there's a why; That, be fortune's strange weather a frown or a squall,

Our lives, good or bad, are chalk'd out for us all; That the stays and the braces of life will be found To be some of them rotten, and some of them sound: That the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,

For death will too soon bring each anchor a-peak.

When astride on the yard, the top-lifts they let go, And I came like a shot plump among them below, Why I catch'd at a halyard, and jump'd upon deck, And so broke my fall to save breaking my neck; Just like your philosophers, for all their jaw, Who less than a rope, gladly catch at a straw. Thus the good, &c.

Why now that there cruise that we made off the banks,

Where I pepper'd the foe, and got shot for my thanks;

What then? she soon struck; and though crippled on shore,

And laid up to refit, I had shiners galore.

At length 'live and looking I tried the false mais, And to get more prize-money got shot at again; Thus the good, &s.