When she was gone, good lack!
My hair like hogs-hair bristled,
I thought she'd ne'er come back,
So went to work and whistled;
Then let her go, I've got my stall,
Which may no robber rifle,
"Twould break my heart to lose my awl,
To lose my wife's a trifle.

7

Every inch a Sailor.

THE wind blew hard, the sea ran high,
The dingy scud drove 'cross the sky;
All was safe lash'd, the bowl was slung,
When, careless, thus Ned Haulyard sung:
A sailor's life the life for me,
He takes his duty merrily;

If winds can whistle, he can sing,
Still faithful to his friend and king;
He gets belov❜d by all the ship,

And toasts his girl, and drinks his flip.

"Down topsails! boys, the gale comes on,"
To strike top-gallant yards they run;
And now, to hand the sail prepar'd,
Ned cheerful sings upon the yard :

A sailor's life, &c.

"A leak! a leak! come, lads, be bold,
There's five feet water in the hold."
Eager on deck see Haulyard jump!
And, hark! while working at the pump:
A sailor's life, &c.

And see the vessel naught can save:
She strikes, and finds a watʼry grave!
Yet Ned, preserv'd, with a few more,
Sings, as he treads a foreign shore :
A sailor's life, &c.

And now-unnumber'd perils past,
On land, as well as sea-at last,
In tatters, to his Poll and home,
See honest Haulyard, singing, come:
A sailor's life, &c.

Yet, for poor Haulyard what disgrace!
Poll swares she never saw his face!
He d....ns her for a faithless she,
And, singing, goes again to sea!
A sailor's life, &c.

Ere around the Huge Oak.

ERE around the huge oak that o'ershadows yon

mill,

The fond ivy had dar'd to entwine;

Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill,
Or the rook built its nest in the pine,

Could I trace back the time, a far distant date,
Since my forefathers toil'd in this field;
And the farm I now hold on your honour's estate,
Is the same that my grandfather till'd,

He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name,
Which, unsullied, descended to me;

For my child I've preserv'd it, unblemish'd with shame,

And it still from a spot shall be free.

The Galley Slave.

OH, think on my fate! once I freedom enjoy'd,
Was as happy as happy could be,

But pleasure is fled! even hope is destroy'd,
A captive, alas! on the sea.

I was ta'en by the foe, 'twas the fiat of fate,
To tear me from her I adore ;

But thoughts bring to mind my once happy state,
I sigh! while I tug at the oar.

Hard, hard is my fate! oh, galling my chain,
My life's steer'd by misery's chart;

And though 'gainst my tyrants I scorn to complain,
Tears gush forth to ease my full heart.

I disdain e'en to shrink, though I feel the sharp lasb,

Yet my breast beats for her I adore,

While around me the unfeeling billows will dash, I sigh and still tug at the oar.

How fortune deceives--I had pleasure in tow,
The port where she dwelt we'd in view;

But the wish'd nuptial morn was o'erclouded with

woe,

And, dear Anna! I was hurried from you,

Our shallop was boarded, and I borne away,
To behold my dear Anna no more;

But despair wastes my spirits, my form feels decay
He sigh'd, and expir'd at the oar!

The Tortoise-shell Tom Cat, and Tommy Cat's-Eye, the Catamaran Auctioneer.

OH, what a story the papers have been telling us, About a little animal of mighty price,

And who ever thought, but an auctioneer, of selling us,

For near three hundred yellow boys, a trap for

mice;

Of its beauties and its qualities, no doubt he told 'em fine tales,

But for me, I should just as soon have bought a cat of nine tails;

I wou'dn't give for all the cats in Christendom so vast a fee,

Not to save 'em from the Catacombs, or Cataline's catastrophe ;

Kate of Russia, Katterfelto's cat, and Catalani, Are every one

By Tom outdone,
As you shall hear,

(Spoken.) We'll just suppose Mr. Cat's-eye, the auctioneer, with his catalogue in one hand, and a hammer like a catapulta in the other, mounted in the rostrum at the great room in Cateaton Street; Hem Leds and Geminen-Cats are of two dis

tinctions: Thomas and Tabby-This is of the former breed, and the only instance in which I have seen beauty monopolized by a male ! Look at him, ladies! what a magnificent mouser! meek, though masculine! The curious concatenation of colour in that cat, calls categorically for your best bidding. Place a proper price upon poor Pusey; consult your feline bosoms, and bid me knock him down. Ladies and gentlemen, a-going, going, goingAny sum for Tommy Tortoise-shell you can't think dear.

Next I should tell ye, the company around him, Who emulously bid as if they all were wild ;Tom thought 'em mad, while the King of Kittens crown'd him,

And kiss'd, caress'd, and dandled him just like a child:

Lady Letty Longwaist, and Mrs. Martha Griskin, Prim Polly Pussy-love, Miss Scratch, and Biddy Twiskin,

Solemn Sally Solus, who to no man yes had ever said,

Killing Kitty Crookedlegs, and neat Miss Nelly Neverwed,

Crowding, squeezing, nodding, bidding, each for

Puss so eager,

Have Tom they wou'd,
By all that's good,

As you shall hear.

(Spoken in different voices.) Irish Lady.-Och, the dear crater, how beautiful he looks when he shuts his eyes! beautiful indeed! He'd even lure the