THE IRISH SMUGGLERS. FROM Brighton two Paddy's walk'd under the cliff, When lo! a small barrel was drop'd from the skiff, I know it as well as my own Mother's milk, Says Pat," I'll soon broach it, O fortunate lot!" 'Twas said, and 'twas done- -the barrel was bor❜d, (No Bacchanals ever felt prouder) When Paddy found out a small error on board The whiskey, alas! was gunpowder. With sudden explosion he flew o'er the ocean, Yet instinct prevails when philosophy fails, But Dermot bawl'd out, with a terrible shout, If you do not come down, I'll run into the town, And by St. Patrick I'll tell the Exciseman." A face of brick-dust red, She's had one of her eyes knock'd out, She gets quite lushy every night, Oh! my head, my head is aching, I've sunk beneath her pondrous fist, But she has nearly done for me, If she hasn't " blow me tight;" THE MARINER'S GRAVE. RECITATION. Jesse Hammond. I REMEMBER the night was stormy and wet, While the rain and the sleet Cold and heavily beat On the Mariner's new-dug grave. I remember 'twas down in a darksome dale, Where the wild winds wail I remember how slowly the bearers trod, Near its last abode, And gazed on the Mariner's. grave. I remember nó sound did the silence break, As the corpse to the earth they gave, Save the night-bird's shriek, And the coffin's creak, As it sunk in the Mariner's grave.. I remember a tear that slowly slid And soon was hid, For clos'd was the Mariner's grave. Now 'o'er his lone bed the brier creeps, And the moon-beam sleeps MONEY. Smith. SINCE Songs of all kinds almost daily are singing, Money's the prop of this glorious nation. Money's a thing we never refuse The rich when unhappy, the poor when the same, For to live without money 'tis useless to try, [share. And they're lucky rogues who have more than their Money's a thing, &c. It's pleasant to look at, and pleasant to find it, To be rich as a King-but, as times are don't mind it, What well know, money can do all pretty you It goes very fast-but comes in very slow; Money is useful to those who are debtors, They tax us for money which I'm sure is no treat. LIEUTENANT LUFF. A COMIC RECITATION. ALL you that are so fond of wine, Take warning by the dismal fate Of one Lieutenant Luff: A sober man he might have been, He did not like soft water, Sir, But I am no Bohemian, So I do not like Bohea.. According to this kind of state, Get And being fond of Port, he made A single pint he might have sipp'd In geologic phrase, the rock He split upon, was quarts. And join'd with this an evil came Of quite another sort, Hood. ན For while he drank himself, his purse Was getting something short.. For want of cash he soon had poppi'd And drinking show'd him duplicates So then his creditors resolv'd To seize on his assets, For why they found that his half-pay Did not half pay his debts. But Luff contriv'd a novel mode His creditors to chouse, last, Against his lungs he aim'd the slugs, And gave it in these terms:"We find as how as certain slugs Has sent him to the worms." FRENCH AND ENGLISH. NEVER go to France Unless you know the lingo, If you do, like me, You'll repent by jingo, Staring like a fool, And silent as a mummy, A nation with a dummy. Chaises stand for chairs, They christen letters Billies, They call their mothers mares, And all their daughters fillies; |