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What, tho' old Dobbin's lost both eyes,
He still has got four legs.

You cruel man, you're more severe,

Than Chinese, Turk, or Persian; Deny your wife, and daughter dear,

But one short day's diversion.

So, Mr. Drugget, pray give o'er,

And mind what I desire; Go to the Liv'ryman, next door, i And quick a buggy hire.'

The cit found all resistance nought,

My lady was in artiest;
The chaise was hir'd, provisions bought,

And poor old Dobbin harness'd.

Through ev'ry village that they went,

The boys began a hooting;
Their luckless steed was almost spent

Before they got to Tooting.

Old Drugget laid on many a blow,
And whipp'd with might and main;

And, now. behold, he cry'd, 'Gee-ho!'
And now he jerk'd the rein.

At length he turn'd to spousy dear,

And said—• My sweetest jewel, The race-ground, love, is very near,

For, see, we 're ent'ring Ewall.'

Reaching, at last the crowded course,
They gap'd, they star'd, they wonder'd

Whilst bets upon the fav'rite horse,
Vociferously thunder'd.

The cit exclaim'd—' Confound this din,
I wish, as 1'ma sinner;


This cursed racing would begin,
That I might get my dinner.

What with the fagging that I 've had,

By Jove I'm almost dead; Holla! you sir! come here my lad,

You, gin and gingerbread."

But when the racing list he reads,

To trust his sight afraid is; 'Zounds, here's not only sporting steeds,

But also sporting ladies!

Sure there was never such a scene,
Since days of Father Adam;

I "11 see it nearer'—out he leapt,
And gave the reins to madam.

Ent'ring a booth, a dext'rous cheat,

In trick and cunning able, Seduc'd the unsuspicious cit

To join an E. 0. table.

Tempted by play's inviting call,
A guinea bright he ventures;

And views the circling of the ball,
On expectation's tenters.

Breathless with joy, he gain'd his chaise,
And cry'd'the guinea's won!'

But who can paint his grief, amaze

His fav'rite watch was gone!

With dreadful ire his bosom burn'd,

But now the horses start; Alas! the chaise was overturn'd,

By running'gainst a cart! Away went Drugget and his dear,

Away went ham and chicken;


'With bottles, glasses, wine and beer,
Ye Gods, what pretty picking!

There, too, good lack, between the wheels

Was seen their hapless daughter, Kicking aloft her lovely heels,

'Midst copious streams of porter!

'I 've lost my wig,' poor Drugget roar'd, 'Your wig. that's nought,' cry'd Miss,

'Mamma has spoil'd her bran-new gown, And I my blucpelise.'

The unlucky chaise went quite to pot,

Old Dobbin too was undone;
At great expense a cart they got,

To take them back to London.

Arriv'd at home, th' enrag'd cit,

With words the most uncivil, Sent horses, jockies, E. O. too,

All packing to the devil!



It was Murphy Delaney, so funny and frisky,

Popp'd in a shcebeen shop to get his skin full; And rcel'd out again pretty well lin'd with whiskey

As fresh as a shamrock, and blind as a bull; But a trifling accident happen'd our rover,

Who took the quay-side for the floor of his shed And the keel of a coal-barge he just tumbled over

And thought all the time he was going to bed; And sing fillalloo, hubbaboo, whack, botheration, Every man in his humour, as Kate kiss'd the pig!


Some folks passing by, drew him out of the river,

And got a horse-doctor his sickness to mend; Who swore that poor Pat was no longer a liver,

But dead as the devil, and there was an end: So they sent for the coroner's jury to try him,

But Pat, not half liking the comical strife, Fell to twisting and turning the while they sat by him,

And came (when he found it convenient) to life; Sing fillalloo, &c.

Says Pat to the jury 'Your worships an't please you

I don't think I'm dead; so what is it you'd do?' •Not dead!' said the foreman, 'you spalpeen, be easy,

'Do you think, do n't the doctor know better than you?' So then they went on in the business further;

Examin'd the doctor about his belief; Then brought poor Delaney in guilty of murder,

And swore they would hang him in spite of his teeth; Sing fillalloo, ccc. But Paddy click'd hold of a clumsy shelaly,

And laid on the doctor, who, stiff as a post, Still swore that it cou'd n't be Murphy Delaney,

But was something alive, and so must be his ghost The jury began then with fear to survey him,

While he like the devil about him did pay;
So they sent out of hand for the clargy to lay him,

But Pat laid the clargy, and then ran away;
Sing fillalloo, &c.



Aw Owl fell desp'rately in love, poor soul!
Sighing and hooting in his lonely hole—


A Parrot the dear object of Iris wishes,
Who in her cage enjoy'd the loaves and fishes,
In short, had all she wanted—meat and drink,
Washing and lodging—full enough, I think.

'Squire Owi most musically tells his tale;
His oaths, his squeezes, kisses, sighs, prevail:
Poii cannot bear, poor heart, to hear him grieve;
So opes her cage, without a 'By your leave;'
Are married, go to bed with raptur'd faces,
Rich words, and so forth—usual in such cases.

A day or two pass'd amorously sweet;
Love, kissing, cooing, billing, all their meat:

At length they both felt hungry—' What's for dinner? 'Pray what have we to eat, my dear?' quoth Pon.'Nothing! by all my wisdom,' answer'd Owl;

I never thought of that, as I'm a sinner;

But, Poll, on something I shall put my pats—
What say'st thou, deary, to a dish of rats?'

'Rats, Mister O wl! d' ye think that I '11 eat rats? Eat them yourself, or give them to the cats;'

Whines the poor bride, now bursting into tears.• Well, Polly, would you rather dine on mouse? I '11 catch a few, if any in the house;

Thou shaltnot starve love, so dispel thy fears.'

'I won't eat rats—I won't eat mice—I won't:
Don't tell me of such dirty vermin—do n't:

O that within my cage I had but tarried!'
'Polly,' quoth Owl,' I 'm sorry, I declare,
So delicate, you relish not our fare—

You should have thought of that before you married."

H 2

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