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Ballads By William Makepeace Thackeray Part 28

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I gaze round the world in its utmost diminsion; LARD JAHN and his minions in Council I ask; Was there ever a Government-pleece (with a pinsion) But children of Erin were fit for that task?

What, Erin beloved, is thy fetal condition?

What shame in aych boosom must rankle and burrun, To think that our countree has ne'er a logician In the hour of her deenger will surrev her turrun!

On the logic of Saxons there's little reliance, And, rather from Saxons than gather its rules, I'd stamp under feet the base book of his science, And spit on his chair as he taught in the schools!

O false SIR JOHN KANE! is it thus that you praych me?



I think all your Queen's Universitees Bosh; And if you've no neetive Professor to taych me, I scawurn to be learned by the Saxon M'COSH.

There's WISEMAN and CHUME, and His Grace the Lord Primate, That sinds round the box, and the world will subscribe; 'Tis they'll build a College that's fit for our climate, And taych me the saycrets I burn to imboibe!

'Tis there as a Student of Science I'll enther, Fair Fountain of Knowledge, of Joy, and Contint!

SAINT PATHRICK'S sweet Statue shall stand in the centher, And wink his dear oi every day during Lint.

And good Doctor NEWMAN, that praycher unwary, 'Tis he shall preside the Academee School, And quit the gay robe of ST. PHILIP of Neri, To wield the soft rod of ST. LAWRENCE O'TOOLE!

THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X.

THE WOLFE NEW BALLAD OF JANE RONEY AND MARY BROWN.

An igstrawnary tail I vill tell you this veek-- I stood in the Court of A'Beckett the Beak, Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see, Who charged Mary Brown with a robbin of she.

This Mary was pore and in misery once, And she came to Mrs. Roney it's more than twelve monce.

She adn't got no bed, nor no dinner nor no tea, And kind Mrs. Roney gave Mary all three.

Mrs. Roney kep Mary for ever so many veeks, (Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax,) She kep her for nothink, as kind as could be, Never thinkin that this Mary was a traitor to she.

"Mrs. Roney, O Mrs. Roney, I feel very ill; Will you just step to the Doctor's for to fetch me a pill?"

"That I will, my pore Mary," Mrs. Roney says she; And she goes off to the Doctor's as quickly as may be.

No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney was sped, Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed; She hopens all the trunks without never a key-- She bustes all the boxes, and vith them makes free.

Mrs. Roney's best linning, gownds, petticoats, and close, Her children's little coats and things, her boots, and her hose, She packed them, and she stole 'em, and avay vith them did flee.

Mrs. Roney's situation--you may think vat it vould be!

Of Mary, ungrateful, who had served her this vay, Mrs. Roney heard nothink for a long year and a day.

Till last Thursday, in Lambeth, ven whom should she see But this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to she?

She was leaning on the helbo of a worthy young man, They were going to be married, and were walkin hand in hand; And the Church bells was a ringing for Mary and he, And the parson was ready, and a waitin for his fee.

When up comes Mrs. Roney, and faces Mary Brown, Who trembles, and castes her eyes upon the ground.

She calls a jolly pleaseman, it happens to be me; I charge this yonng woman, Mr. Pleaseman, says she.

"Mrs. Roney, O, Mrs. Roney, O, do let me go, I acted most ungrateful I own, and I know, But the marriage bell is a ringin, and the ring you may see, And this young man is a waitin," says Mary says she.

"I don't care three fardens for the parson and clark, And the bell may keep ringin from noon day to dark.

Mary Brown, Mary Brown, you must come along with me; And I think this young man is lucky to be free."

So, in spite of the tears which bejew'd Mary's cheek, I took that young gurl to A'Beckett the Beak; That exlent Justice demanded her plea-- But never a sullable said Mary said she.

On account of her conduck so base and so vile, That wicked young gurl is committed for trile, And if she's transpawted beyond the salt sea, It's a proper reward for such willians as she.

Now you young gurls of Southwark for Mary who veep, From pickin and stealin your ands you must keep, Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday veek, To pull you all hup to A'Beckett the Beak.

THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS.

My name is Pleaceman X; Last night I was in bed, A dream did me perplex, Which came into my Edd.

I dreamed I sor three Waits A playing of their tune, At Pimlico Palace gates, All underneath the moon.

One puffed a hold French horn, And one a hold Banjo, And one chap seedy and torn A Hirish pipe did blow.

They sadly piped and played, Dexcribing of their fates; And this was what they said, Those three pore Christmas Waits:

"When this black year began, This Eighteen-forty-eight, I was a great great man, And king both vise and great, And Munseer Guizot by me did show As Minister of State.

"But Febuwerry came, And brought a rabble rout, And me and my good dame And children did turn out, And us, in spite of all our right.

Sent to the right about.

"I left my native ground, I left my kin and kith, I left my royal crownd, Vich I couldn't travel vith, And without a pound came to English ground, In the name of Mr. Smith.

"Like any anchorite I've lived since I came here, I've kep myself quite quite, I've drank the small small beer, And the vater, you see, disagrees vith me And all my famly dear.

"O Tweeleries so dear, O darling Pally Royl, Vas it to finish here That I did trouble and toyl?

That all my plans should break in my ands, And should on me recoil?

"My state I fenced about Vith baynicks and vith guns; My gals I portioned hout, Rich vives I got my sons; O varn't it crule to lose my rule, My money and lands at once?

"And so, vith arp and woice, Both troubled and s.h.a.greened, I hid you to rejoice, O glorious England's Queend!

And never have to veep, like pore Louis-Phileep, Because you out are cleaned.

"O Prins, so brave and stout, I stand before your gate; Pray send a trifle hout To me, your pore old Vait; For nothink could be vuss than it's been along vith us In this year Forty-eight."

"Ven this bad year began,"

The nex man said, seysee, "I vas a Journeyman, A taylor black and free, And my wife went out and chaired about, And my name's the bold Cuffee.

"The Queen and Halbert both I swore I would confound, I took a hawfle hoath To drag them to the ground; And sevral more with me they swore Aginst the British Crownd.

"Aginst her Pleacemen all We said we'd try our strenth; Her scarlick soldiers tall We vow'd we'd lay full lenth; And out we came, in Freedom's name, Last Aypril was the tenth.

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