Will lay-to till the night came on darksome and dreary,

To crowd ev'ry sail then he pip'd up each hand; But a signal soon spied, 'twas a prospect uncheery, A signal that warn'd him to bear from the land.

The Philistines are out, cries Will, well, take no heed on't,

Attack'd, who's the man that will flinch from his gun;

Shou'd my head be blown off, I shall ne'er feel the need on't,

We'll fight while we can, when we can't, boys, we'll run.

Thro' the haze of the night, a bright flash now ap

pearing,

Oh! no! cries Will Watch, the Philistines bear

down,

Bear-a-hand, my tight lads, e'er we think about

sheering,

One broadside pour in, shou'd we swim, boys, or drown.

But should I be popp'd off, you my mates left behind me,

Regard my last word, see 'em kindly obey'd, Let no stone mark the spot, and, my friends, do you mind me,

Near the beach is the grave where Will Watch

wou'd be laid.

Poor Will's yarn was spun out-for a bullet next

minute

Laid him low on the deck, and he never spoke

more ;/

His bold crew fought the brig while a shot remain'd in it,

Then sheer'd-and Will's hulk to his Susan they bore.

In the dead of the night his last wish was complied

with,

To few known his grave, and to few known his

end,

He was borne to the earth by the crew that he died

with,

He'd the tears of his Susan, the prayers of each

friend.

Near his grave dash the billows, the winds loudly

bellow,

Yon ash struck with lightning points out the cold bed

Where Will Watch, the bold smuggler, that fan'd lawless fellow,

Once fear'd, now forgot, sleeps in peace with the dead.

Dulce Domum.

DEEP in a vale a cottage stood,"
Oft sought by trav'llers weary,

And long it prov'd the blest abode
Of Edward and of Mary.

For her he chas'd the mountain goat,
O'er Alps and graciers bounding;
For her the chamois he would shoot,
Dark horrors all surrounding,
But evening come,

He sought his home,

And anxious, lovely woman,
She hail'd the sight,
And, every night,

The cottage rung,
As they sung,

Oh! dulce, dulce domum!

But soon, alas! this scene of bliss,
Was chang'd to prospects dreary ; ·
For war and honour rouş'd each Swiss,
And Edward left his Mary.
To bold Gothard's height he rush'd,
'Gainst Gallia's foes contending:
And by unequal numbers crush'd,
He died, his land defending.
The evening come,

He sought not home,
While she, distracted woman,

Goes wild with dread,
Now seeks him dead,,

And hears the knell
That bids farewell
To dulce, dulce domum !

Alderman Gobble..

TOM GOBBLE was a grocer's son,
Heigho! says Gobble ;.

He gave a ven'son dinner for fun,
And he had a belly as big as a tun,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Ab, ha! says Alderman Gobble.

The servant usher'd the company in,
Heigho! says Gobble,

The dinner is ready, quoth Tom with a grin,
So he tuck'd a napkin under his chin,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Ah, ah! says Alderman Gobble.

Then Betty the cook she gave a squall,
Heigho! says Gobble,

Poor John the footman has had a fall,
And down stairs tumbl'd ven'son and all,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Alas! say Alderman Gobble,

So down the Alderman ran in a fright,
Heigho! says Gobble,

And there sat John in a terrible plight,
Astride on the ven'son bolt upright,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Dear me ! says Alderman Gobble.

Was ever man so cruelly put on,
Heigho! says Gobble,

Get off from the meat you rascally glutton,
You've made my ven'son a saddle of mutton,
With your handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Good lack! says Alderman Gobble.

Lord, sir, says Betty, what a splash,
Heigho! says Gobble,

'Tis a monstrous bad rumbusticle crash,
But to-morrow I'll tickle it up in a hash,
With my handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Ay, do! says Alderman Gobble.

Phantasmagoria.

HERE am I with my phantasmagoria so bright,
Sing farinana, sing farinanee,
No spectre I'll shew you, or ugly spright,
Sing farinana, sing farinanee,
Believe me its only in hopes for to please you,
That I bring some invisible spirits to view.
Sing chich-a-chee, doorala, &c.

When a child I was foster'd at Ballynabeg,
As big as the shell that comes out of an egg;
Of fairies in bunches, my old nurse would tell,
Till I almost was frighten'd back into the shell.

Grown older, says I, never make such a noise,
About nonsense, fit only for women or boys:
Yet that spirits existed, I learnt to agree,
And the spirit of whisky's the spirit for me.

I have heard of the spirit of contradiction,
And when I got married I found it no fiction;
My poor wife had a spirit, indeed its no sham,
It appear'd every night in the shape of a dram.