'Twas now by the clock, about five in the morn, When we all gallop off to the sound of the hornJack Gater, Bill Babbler, and Dick at the Goose, When all of a sudden out starts Mistress Puss:

Men, horses, and dogs, not a moment would stay, And echo was heard to cry- Hark! hark, away!'

The course was a fine one, she took o'er the plain, Which she doubled, and doubled, and doubled again,

Till at last she to cover return'd out of breath, And I and Will Whistle were in at the death: Then, in triumph for you, I the hare did display, And cry'd to the horns,- My boys, hark! hark,

away!'

"

The Orphan Boy.

ONE moment stay for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale;
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale!
Yet I was once a mother's pride,

And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy!

Poor foolish child! how pleas'd was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came
Along the crowded streets to fly,

To see the lighted windows flame.

To force me home my mother sought
She could not bear to see my joy:
For with my father's life was bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.

The people's shouts were long and loud, My mother shudd'ring clos'd her ears: "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cry'd the crowdMy mother answer'd with her tears. "Oh! why do tears steal down your cheek," (Cry'd I,) "while others shout for joy?" She kiss'd me, and in accents weak She call'd me her poor orphan boy!

"What is an orphan boy?" I said;
When suddenly she gasp'd for breath,
And her eyes clos'd; I shriek'd for aid;
But ah! her eyes were clos'd for death!
My hardships since I will not tell;

But now, no more a parent's joy;
Alas! alas! I have learnt too well
What 'tis to be an orphan boy.

Oh, were I by your bounty fed;
Nay, gentle hearers, do not chide;
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread,
The sailor's orphan boy has pride.
Ladies, you weep,-what is't you say?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ !
Look down, dear parents, look and see,
Your happy, happy orphan boy!

3

то

An Exciseman outwitted.

a village that skirted the sea,

An exciseman, one midsummer came;
But prudence, between you and me,
Forbids me to mention his name;
Saint Michael he chanc'd to espy,
A cag on his napper he bore,
With six gallons of brandy, or nigh,

And, pray, where's the head will bear more?

Says the excisemen, Pray where's your permit? Cries Mich. It an't convenient to shew it.Then says to'ther, I'm not to be bit;

For you've smuggl'd that stuff, & you know it,
Your pigs to a fine market you've brought,
For seeing you pay no excise,

As the customs have settl'd you ought,
I now seize this stuff as my prize!

Says Michael, Pray do'nt be so hard ;-
(The exciseman was deaf to complaint,)
Then take it, says Mich., if you like,

For I've born it till ready to faint.-
Four miles in the sunshine they trudg'd,
"Til on them they'd scarce a dry rag;
The exciseman his labour ne'er grudg'd,
But cheerfully carried the cag.

To the custom-house in the next town,
It was yet some three furlongs or more:
When, said Michael, Prey put your load down,
For this, sir, is my cottage door,

Says the exciseman, I thank you, friend, no ;
My burden, just yet, I shan't quit:-
Then, says Michael, before that you go,
I'll just get you to read my permit.

Your permit! why not shew it before ?--
Because it came into my nob,
That by waiting for me on the shore,
Your worship was in want of a job;
I'd need of a porter d'ye see,

For that load made my bones fit to crack,
And so, sir, I thank you for me,

And I wish you a pleasant walk back.

"A Match for all.

BUY my matches ye maids, I have matches for all, I've a match for the little, the lusty, and tall, All my matches are pointed, my brimstone is good, And I know very well, how to splinter my wood; Buy my matches ye maids, I have matches for

all,

I've a match for the little, the lusty, and tall,

Dame fortune who matches the young and the old, Gives you brimstone enough, when you're match'd to a scold;

If your matches are made, as I fancy they be, You have met with your match before you met me,

There's the doctor so nice, and the lawyer so wise, They're a match for you all, none can match them for lies,

Beware of them both, be they ever so civil,

For a lawyer you know, is a match for the devil.

There's Duncan the brave, was a match for the Dutch,

Heaven send that again, he could give them a touch, And teach them in future, that Englishmen will, Prove a match for them all, and defy all their skill.

Heaven bless our good king, and bold Clarence his son,

And each true British tar, that's a match for the

Don;

May they conquer and live is the prayer from my

birth,

That Old England may match all the nations on earth.

The King's Picture.

MR. ARAHAM NEWLAND's a monstrous good man, But when you have said of him what ever you

can,

Why all his soft paper would look very blue,
If it wasn't for the yellow boys, pray what think

you?

Tol lol de rol lol, &c.