Now, like a pig in a mortar-bed wallowing, | This Gineral great then tuck his sate,

See the old bachelor kneading his dough ; With all the other ginerals,
Troth, if his bread he can ate without swallowing, (Bedad, his troat, his belt, his coat,
How it would help his digestion, ye know ! All bleezed with precious minerals ;)

And as be there, with princely air,
Late in the night, when he goes to bed shivering,

Recloinin on his cushion was, Never the bit is his bed made at all;

All round about his royal chair, So he creeps like a terrapin under the kivering ;

The squeezin and the pushin was. Bad luck to the pictur of Bachelor's Hall !

O Pat, such girls, such Jukes and Earls,

Such fashion and nobilitee !

Just think of Tim, and fancy him

Amidst the hoigh gentility!
There was Lord De L'Huys,and the Portygeese

Ministher and his lady there,

And I reckonized, with much surprise,
O, WILL ye choose to hear the news?

Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there;
Bedad, I cannot pass it o'er :
I'll tell you all about the ball

There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like Juno, To the Naypaulase Ambassador.

And Baroness Rehausen there, Begor ! this fête all balls does bate,

And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar At which I worn a pump, and I

Well, in her robes of gauze in there. Must here relate the splendthor great

There was Lord Crowhurst (I knew him first Of th' Oriental Company.

When only Mr. Pips he was), These men of sinse dispoised expinse,

And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool, To fête these black Achilleses.

That after supper tipsy was. “We'll show the blacks," says they, “Almack's, There was Lord Fingall and his ladies all, And take the rooms at Willis's."

And Lords Killeen and Dufferin, With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls,

And Paddy Fife, with his fat wife, They hung the rooms of Willis up,

I wondther how he could stuff her in. And decked the walls and stairs and halls

There was Lord Belfast, that by me past, With roses and with lilies up.

And seemed to ask how should I go there? And Jullien's band it tuck its stand

And the Widow Macrae, and Lord A. Hay, So sweetly in the middle there,

And the Marchioness of Sligo there. And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes,

Yes, Jukes and Earls, and diamonds and pearls, And violins did fiddle there. And when the Coort was tired of spoort,

And pretty girls, was spoorting there ; I'd lave you, boys, to think there was

And some beside (the rogues !) I spied, A nate buffet before them set,

Behind the windies, coorting there. Where lashins of good dhrink there was !

O, there 's one I know, bedad, would show

As beautiful as any there ; At ten before the ball-room door,

And I'd like to hear the pipers blow, His moighty Excellency was ;

And shake a fut with Fanny there ! He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd,

So gorgeous and immense he was.
His dusky shuit, sublime and mute,
Into the door-way followed him ;

And 0 the noise of the blackguard boys,
As they hurrood and hollowed him !


OF O'RYAN, IGNORANTLY AND FALSELY SPELLED ORION. The noble Chair stud at the stair,

O'RYAN was a man of might
And bade the dthrums to thump ; and he

Whin Ireland was a nation,
Did thus evince to that Black Prince
The welcome of his Company.

But poachin' was his heart's delight

And constant occupation. O fair the girls, and rich the curls,

He had an ould militia gun, And bright the oys, you saw there, was ;

And sartin sure his aim was ; And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi,

He gave the keepers many a run, On Gineral Jung Bahawther was !

And would n't mind the game



He weeps o'er the modern corruption,

Compared with the good old times, And don't know what is the matter

With the Upper Jura limes !

The hoary old Plesiosaurus

Does naught but quaff and roar;
And the Pterodactylus lately

Flew drunk to his own front door!

The Iguanodon of the Period

Grows worse with every stratum ;
He kisses the Ichthyosauresses

Whenever he can get at 'em !

St. Pathrick wanst was passin' by

O'Ryan's little houldin',
And, as the saint felt wake and dhry,

He thought he'd enther bould in. O'Ryan,” says the saint, “avick!

To praich at Thurles I 'm goin'; So let me have a rasher quick,

And a dhrop of Innishowen.” “No rasher will I cook for you

While betther is to spare, sir,
But here's a jug of mountain dew,

And there's a rattlin' hare, sir."
St. Pathrick he looked mighty sweet,

And says he, “Good luck attind you,
And when you 're in your windin' sheet,

It's up to heaven I 'll sind you." O'Ryan gave his pipe a whiff,

“Them tidin's is thransportin', But

may I ax your saintship if There 's any kind of sportin'?” St. Pathrick said, “A Lion's there,

Two Bears, a Bull, and Cancer" * Bedad,” says Mick, “ the huntin 's rare ;

St. Pathrick, I'm your man, sir." So, to conclude my song aright,

For fear I'd tire your patience,
You ’ll see O'Ryan any night

Amid the constellations.
And Venus follows in his track

Till Mars grows jealous raally,
But, faith, he fears the Irish knack
Of handling the shillaly.



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(This curious specimen of German scientific humor refers to the close of the Jurassic (or Liassic) period and the beginning of the Cretaceous, and describes the sad forebodings of a venerable Sau ("A human skull has been found in California, in the pliocene for rian, who sees in the degeneracy of the times a sign of the coming mation. This skull is the remnant, not only of the earliest pioneer cataclysm.

of this State, but the oldest known human being. . . The skull The translator says. “ Among the many extraordinary liberties was found in a shaft one hundred and fifty feet deep, two miles which we have felt obliged to take with the letter of the original, in from Angel's, in Calaveras County, by a miner named James Matorder to preserve as far as possible its spirit and its flowing move son, who gave it to Mr. Scribner, a merchant, and he gave it to Dr. ment, the most violent is the substitution in the last stanza but one,

Jones, who sent it to the State Geological Survey. .... The pubof an entirely new (and poor) joke for the very neat, but untrans lished volume of the State Survey on the Geology of California latable jeu of the German. The last two lines of the stanza are : states that man existed contemporaneously with the mastodon, but Sie kamen zu tief in die Kreide ;

this fossil proves that he was here before the mastodon was known Da war es natürlich vorbei.'

to exist." - Daily Paper.] The literal meaning is, ' They got too deep in the chalk, and it was, of course, all up with them.' The allusion is to the score

"SPEAK, Oman, less recent! Fragmentary fossil ! chalked up by a landlord against some bibulous but impecunious Primal pioneer of pliocene formation, customer; and the notion that the Saurians ran up so large an account for drinks that the chalk required to mark their indebtedness Hid in lowest drifts below the earliest stratum smothered the whole race, and brought on the Cretaceous or chalk

Of Volcanic tufa! period, is so absurdly funny that it is a pity to sacrifice it.")

THERE's a rustling in the rushes, Older than the beasts, the oldest Palæotherium ;
There's a flashing in the sea,

Older than the trees, the oldest Cryptogamia ;
There's a tearful Ichthyosaurus

Older than the hills, those infant eruptions Swims hither mournfully!

Of earth's epidermis !

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When beside thee walked the solemn Plesiosaurus, And around thee crept the festive Ichthyosaurus, While from time to time above thee flew and circled

Cheerful Pterodactyls.

go, etc.

Tell us of thy food, — those half-marine refections, Crinoids on the shell, and Brachipods au naturel,Cuttle-fish to which the pieuvre of Victor Hugo

Seems a periwinkle.

Speak, thou awful vestige of the earth's creation,
Solitary fragment of remains organic !
Tell the wondrous secrets of thy past existence,

Speak ! thou oldest primate !”

I begged for my master,

And got himn store of pelf; But, goodness now be praised ! I'm begging for myself.

And a-begging we will g In a hollow tree

I live, and pay no rent; Providence provides for me, And I am well content.

And a-begging we will go, etc. Of all the occupations

A beggar's is the best,
For whenever he's a-weary,
He can lay him down to rest.

And a-begging we will go, etc. I fear no plots against me,

I live in open cell ;
Then who would be a king, lads,
When the beggar lives so well ?

And a-begging we will go,

Will go, will go,
And a-begging we will go.

Even as I gazed, a thrill of the maxilla
And a lateral movement of the condyloid process,
With post-pliocene sounds of healthy mastication,

Ground the teeth together.

And from that imperfect dental exhibition, Stained with expressed juices of the weed Nicotian, Came those hollow accents, blent with softer


Of expectoration :


Which my name is Bowers, and my crust was

busted Falling down a shaft, in Calaveras County, But I'd take it kindly if you'd send the pieces

Home to old Missouri !”

GOOD ALE. I CANNOT eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good ;


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But, sure, I think that I can drink

The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale, With any that wears a hood.

'T was the friar's road home, straight and Though I go bare, take ye no care ;

level ; I am nothing a-cold,

But, when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not I stuff my skin so full within

his tail, Of jolly good ale and old.

So he scampered due north, like a devil : Back and side go bare, go bare ;

"This new mode of docking,” the friar then said, Both foot and hand go cold;

“I perceive does n't make a horse trot ill ; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, And't is cheap, --for he never can eat off his head Whether it be new or old !

While I am engaged at the bottle, I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity — glug And a crab laid in the fire ;

- glug - glug.” A little bread shall do me stead, Much bread I not desire.

The steed made a stop, - in a pond he had got, No frost nor snow, nor wind, I trow,

He was rather for drinking than grazing ; Can hurt me if I wold,

Quoth the friar, “'Tis strange headless horses I am so wrapt, and thorowly lapt

should trot, Of jolly good ale and old.

But to drink with their tails is amazing!" Back and side go bare, go bare, etc.

Turning round to see whence this phenomenon

rose, And Tyb, my wife, that as her life

In the pond fell this son of a pottle ;
Loveth well good ale to seek,

Quoth he, “ The head's found, for I'm under his Full oft drinks she, till you may see

nose, The tears run down her cheek;

I wish I were over a bottle, Then doth she trowl to me the bowl,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity — glug Even as a malt-worm should ;

- glug - glug." And saith, Sweetheart, I took my part

Of this jolly good ale and old.”
Back and side go bare, go bare, etc.
Now let them drink till they nod and wink,

Even as good fellows should do ;
They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to ;
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,

COME! fill a fresh bumper, -- for why should we
Or have them lustily trowled,

go God save the lives of them and their wives,

logwood Whether they be young or old !

While the Heeter still reddens our cups as they Back and side go bare, go bare ;


decoction Both foot and hand go cold ;

Pour out the rieh juices still bright with the sun, But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

dye-stuff Whether it be new or old !

Till o'er the brimmed crystal the rubies shall run. JOHN STILL.

half-ripened apples

The purple globest clusters their life-dews have GLUGGITY GLUG.

sugar of lead THE MYRTLE AND THE VINE."

How sweet is the breath of the fragrantee theyskert!

rank polsons A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store, For summer's last poses lie hid in the wines And he had drunk stoutly at supper ;

stable-boys smoking long-nines He mounted his horse in the night at the door,

That were garnered by maidens who laughed And sat with his face to the crupper :

through the vines. Some rogue," quoth the friar, “quite dead to

scow! remorse,

Then a smile, and aglaon, and a toast, and a cheer, Some thief, whom a halter will throttle,

strychnine and whiskey, and ratsbane and beer Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse, For all the good wine, and we're some of it here ! While I was engaged at the bottle,

In cellar, in pantry, in attic, in hall,

Down, down with the tyrant that masters us all!
Which went gluggity, gluggity — glug Long live the gay sertant that laughs for ho eh!

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. - glug - glug.'


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wines !!!






YE overseers and reviewers
0.f all the Muses' sinks and sewers,
Who dwell on high,
Ent] ned among your peers
The garreteers,
That border on the sky :
Who hear the music of the spheres,
Ye have such ears
And dwell so high !
I thank you for your criticism,
Which you have ushered in
With a delightful witticism
That tastes like rotten fruit preserved in gin;
And therefore marvel not that my two ballads,
Which are but like two salads,
By no means suit,
Like your fruit,
With your palates.
I do admire your dealings,
To speak according to your feelings,
And do believe if you had withal
You would drop honey,
And that you overflow with gall
Because you do not overflow with money.
Thence all your spite
Against a poor conundrumite,
Whose only business is to watch
Where the conundrums lie,
And be upon the watch,
As they go by ;
To make a simile in no feature
Resembling the creature
That he has in his

Just as a fisher shoots an owl,
Or a sea-fowl,
To make the likeness of a fly;
Just as you look into the fire,
For any likeness you desire.
Simile-making is an undertaking,
In which the undertaker
Resembles the marriage-contract maker ;
A poor industrious man who means no ill,
But does the best he can
With a quill,
In that he does according to his skill.
If matters can be brought to bear
So as to tie the knot,
He does not care
Whether they are a happy pair or not;
And, as I said at first,
Nothing could make you all so keen
And curst,
But that which makes you all so lean, —
Hunger and thirst.
So now and then a judge

Consigns a wretch To Master Ketch, Having no grudge ; No reason clear can be assigned, Only, like you, he has not dined. So far from wishing your allowance shorter, I wish, for all your sakes, You may never want beefsteaks And porter, And for your merits A dram of British spirits. And so I leave you with a fable Designed, without a sneer, To exhilarate your table And give a relish to your beer. I beg my compliments to all your ladies The revieweressesHark !!! And, if you please take warning, My fable is concerning A cuckoo and a lark. If I had said a nightingale, You would have cried You could not fail, That it was pride, And naught beside, That made me think of such a tale. Upon a tree as they were sitting They fell into a warm dispute, Warmer than was fitting, Which of them was the better fluto. After much prating And debating, Not worth relating, Things came to such a pass, They both agree To take an ass For referee : The ass was studying botany and grass Under the tree. What do you think was the decree? “Why,” said the ass, “the question is not hard:" And so he made an excellent award, As you shall see. “The lark,” says he, “Has got a wild fantastic pipe, But no more music than a snipe ; It gives one pain And turns one's brain, One can't keep time to such a strain ; Whereas the cuckoo's note Is measured and composed with thought; His method is distinct and clear, And dwells Like bells Upon the ear, Which is the sweetest music one can hear. I can distinguish, I'll lay a wager,

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