"Don't fear my ghost will walk o' nights To haunt, as people say; My ghost can't walk, for, O, my legs "Lord! think when I am swimming round, And looking where the boat is, A shark just snaps away a half, Without a quarter's notice.' "One half is here, the other half FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN. AN OLD BALLAD. YOUNG BEN he was a nice young man, A carpenter by trade; And he fell in love with Sally Brown, That was a lady's maid. But as they fetched a walk one day, The boatswain swore with wicked words Enough to shock a saint, That, though she did seem in a fit, 'T was nothing but a feint. "Come, girl," said he, "hold up your head, He'll be as good as me; For when your swain is in our boat A boatswain he will be." So when they'd made their game of her, She roused, and found she only was "And is he gone, and is he gone?" She cried and wept outright; "Then I will to the water-side, And see him out of sight." A waterman came up to her; 'Now, young woman," said he, "If you weep on so, you will make Eye-water in the sea.' "Alas! they've taken my beau, Ben, Says he, "They 've only taken him "O, would I were a mermaid now, How time slips away!— Who'd have thought that while Cupid was playing these tricks Ten years had elapsed, and I'd turned twentysix? "I care not a whit, He's not grown a bit," Says my Aunt; "it will still be a very good fit." So Janet and She, Now about thirty-three, (The maid had been jilted by Mr. Magee,) Each taking one end of "the Shirt" on her knee, Again began working with hearty good-will, "Felling the Seams," and "whipping the Frill,"-For, twenty years since, though the Ruffle had vanished, A Frill like a fan had by no means been banished; People wore them at playhouses, parties, and churches, Like overgrown fins of overgrown perches. Now, then, by these two thus laying their caps Together, my "Shirt" had been finished, perhaps, But for one of those queer little three-cornered straps, Which the ladies call "Side-bits," that sever the "Flaps"; Here unlucky Janet Took her needle, and ran it Right into her thumb, and cried loudly, “Ads cuss it! I've spoiled myself now by that 'ere nasty Gusset!" And the ostrich plume worked on the corps' Was in that sort of state vulgar people call "Rum." When Fan, accidentally casting her eye Within, a pea-soup-colored fragment she spied, All her powers to forget him, and finish my Of the hue of a November fog in Cheapside, Shirt. Or a bad piece of gingerbread spoilt in the baking. I still hear her cry, "I wish I may die The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks anything but joy"; If here is n't Tom's Shirt, that's been so long Again I said, "What make you here, you little To bring matters round; so I'll do my endeavor. 'Better Late,' says an excellent proverb, than "Hark! don't you hear, my little man? — it's Never!' It was marked on the tail with a T, and an I! Was placed, just to air it, striking Nine," I said, Nor brown' to buy a bit of bread with, let alone a tart. "If there's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ, By day or night, then blow me tight!" (he was a vulgar Boy ;) In front of the fire. "Tom to-morrow shall "And now I'm here, from this here pier it is MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE. A LEGEND OF JARVIS'S JETTY. I WAS in Margate last July, I walked upon the pier, my fixed intent To jump as Mister Levi did from off the Monument!" "Cheer up cheer up! my little man, - cheer up!" I kindly said, "You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head; If you should jump from off the pier, you'd surely break your legs, Perhaps your neck, then Bogey'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs! "Come home with me, my little man, come home with me and sup; I saw a little vulgar Boy, I said, "What make My landlady is Mrs. Jones, you here? her up, we must not keep There's roast potatoes at the fire, enough for | I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down me and you, below, Come home, you little vulgar Boy, I lodge at "O Mrs. Jones, what do you think? — ain't this Number 2." I bade him wipe his dirty shoes, that little vulgar Boy, - a pretty go? That horrid little vulgar Boy whom I brought here to-night He's stolen my things and run away!" Says she, "And sarve you right!" And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of Next morning I was up betimes, I sent the Crier round, her sex, "Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say, I'd double X!" give a pound To find that little vulgar Boy, who 'd gone and used me so; But when the Crier cried, "O Yes!" the people cried, "O No!" I could not see my sugar-tongs, my silver I did not understand him well, but think he meant watch, O, dear! to say I know 't was on the mantel-piece when I went He'd seen that little vulgar Boy, that morning, out for beer. My carpet-bag, - my cruet-stand, that holds my A landsman said, "I twig the chap, - he's been sauce and soy, upon the Mill, My roast potatoes !- all are gone! and so's And 'cause he gammons so the flats, ve calls him |