And phansy with what joy

The master did regard

His dearly bluvd lost oss again
Trot in the stable yard!

Who was this master good

Of whomb I makes these rhymes ?

His name is Jacob Homnium, Exquire; And if I'd committed crimes,

Good Lord! I wouldn't ave that mann Attack me in the Times!

Now, shortly after the groomb
His master's oss did take up,
There came a livery-man

This gentleman to wake up;
And he handed in a little bill,
Which hanger'd Mr. Jacob.

For two pound seventeen

This livery-man eplied,

For the keep of Mr. Jacob's oss,

Which the thief had took to ride.

"Do you see anythink green in me?" Mr. Jacob Homnium cried.

"Because a raskle chews

My oss away to robb,

And goes tick at your Mews

For seven-and-fifty bobb,

Shall I be called to pay? It is
A iniquitious Jobb."

Thus Mr. Jacob cut

The conwasation short;

The livery-man went ome,

Detummingd to ave sport,

And summingsd Jacob Homnium, Exquire,

Into the Pallis Court.

Pore Jacob went to Court,

A Counsel for to fix,

And choose a barrister out of the four,

An attorney of the six;

And there he sor these men of Lor,

And watched 'em at their tricks.

The dreadful day of trile

In the Pallis Court did come;

The lawyers said their say,

The Judge looked wery glum,

And then the British Jury cast

Pore Jacob Hom-ni-um.

O, a weary day was that

For Jacob to go through;

The debt was two seventeen,

(Which he no mor owed than you), And then there was the plaintives costs, Eleven pound six and two.

And then there was his own,

Which the lawyers they did fix

At the wery moderit figgar

Of ten pound one and six.
Now Evins bless the Pallis Court,
And all its bold ver-dicks!

I cannot settingly tell

If Jacob swaw and cust,

At aving for to pay this sumb,

But I should think he must,

And av drawn a cheque for £24 4s. 8d. With most igstreme disgust.

O Pallis Court, you move

My pitty most profound.

A most emusing sport

You thought it, I'll be bound,

To saddle hup a three-pound debt,
With two-and-twenty pound.

Good sport it is to you,

To grind the honest pore;

To pay their just or unjust debts

With eight hundred per cent. for Lor;

Make haste and git your costes in,

They will not last much mor!

Come down from that tribewn,

Thou Shameless and Unjust; Thou Swindle, picking pockets in The name of Truth, august; Come down, thou hoary Blasphemy, For die thou shalt and must.

And go it, Jacob Homnium,
And ply your iron pen,
And rise up Sir John Jervis,

And shut me up that den;
That sty for fattening lawyers in,

On the bones of honest men.

PLEACEMAN X.

THE SPECULATORS.

THE night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in sleep: Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those who'd no beds to keep.

I pass'd through the lonely street, The wind did sing and blow; I could hear the policeman's feet Clapping to and fro.

There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet; He stood with his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket.

Two gents of dismal mien, Came out of a shop for gin,

And dank and greasy rags, Swaggering over the flags:

Swaggering over the stones, These shabby bucks did walk; And I went and followed those seedy ones, And listened to their talk.