While strolling t'other night,

I dropped in at a house, d'ye see,
The landlord so polite,

Insisted on treating me ;
I called for a glass of port,

When half-a-bottle he brings;

SPOKEN.-"How much to pay, landlord," said I

"Nothing of the sort,"

Says he, "you're a cove wot sings."

Now my song is at an end,

Tol de rol, &c.

My story through I've run ;
And all that I did intend,

Was to cause a morsel of fun;

If I succeed, that's right,

There's a pleasure pleasing brings;

And I'll try some other night,

The luck of a chap wot sings.

Tol de rol, &c.

LOVE'S RITORNELLA.

GENTLE Zitella, whither away?
Love's ritornella, list while I play.
No, I have linger'd too long on my road,-
Night is advancing, the Brigand's abroad.

Lonely Zitella hath too much fear;
Love's ritornella she may not hear:
Charming Zitella, why shouldst thou care?
Night is not darker than thy raven hair.

And those bright eyes if the brigand should see
Thou art the robber, the captive is he.

Gentle Zitella, banish thy fear;

Love's ritornella, tarry and hear.

Simple Zitella, beware, ah, beware!
List ye no ditty, grant ye no prayer.
To your light footsteps let terror add wings,
"Tis Massaroni himself who now sings.
Gentle Zitella, banish thy fear,
Love's ritornella tarry and hear.

RETURN, O MY LOVE.

RETURN, O my love! and we'll never part,
While the morn her soft light shall shed,
I'll hold thee fast to my virgin heart,
And my bosom shall pillow thy head.

The breath of the woodbine is on my lips,
Impearl'd in the dews of May;

And no one but thou of its sweetness shall sip,
Or steal its honey away.

Then return, &c.

FOUR FEET HIGH.

WHAT a misery it is to be just four feet high,
I'm sure you all feel for my case:
For when but an infant, the gossips would cry,
My growing they never could trace.
To see me so little, 'tis truth, that's poz,
Gave father and mother much pain;
But in short, why short I all my life was,
And in short, why short I remain.
Oh dear! Oh dear!

Oh, hapless misfortune-I feel it-that I,
Should never grow taller than four feet high.

My school I went through, and some years passed

away,

And although I looked but a boy;

With other lads taller I scorn'd to play,
For I thought myself hobble-de-hoy.

Fate cut my prospects, and sternly decreed-
Stinted my growth, so that I

Did reach four-and-twenty years old, and indeed, Before I was four feet high.

Oh dear! Oh dear!

Oh, hapless misfortune-I sob and I sigh,
To think I'm not more than four feet high.

I then fell in love, and a courting I went,
A beautiful damsel so fair;

Who was just six feet tall, but she would not consent,

And all my hope turn'd to despair.
To gaze on her charms put me all in a stir,
I felt my poor heart was not free;
Imploring her pity I look'd up to her,
With scorn she look'd down upon me.
Oh dear! Oh dear!

Too short to be married-I sob and I sigh,
Because I'm not more than four feet high.

The refusal from her filled my heart full of woe,
Oh, love gave my valour a twist;

I made up my mind for a soldier to go,
And boldly I went to enlist.

But corporal, sergeant, and all-nine or ten-
At my resolution did laugh,

And told me they only took good siz❜d men,
And I was too little by half.

Oh dear! Oh dear!

Too short to be shot at-I sob and I sigh,
My greatest misfortune is-four feet high.

As I walk through the streets I feel some alarm
To see every tall person come ;

say,

Whose looks plainly "Come under my arm, You wee little hop o' my thumb."

And each gawkey boy, my walk who comes near,
Seems but to act by one plan;

For all of them cry, "Companions, look here,
Look at the queer little man."

Oh dear! Oh dear!

Scoff'd by young urchins, who, jeering go by,
Because I'm not more than four feet high.

Day after day, I my shortness deplore,
With grief my poor heart is quite full;
I can't reach a knocker, or knock at a door,
Nor one single bell can I pull;
Yet from this I get consolation a bit,

And sentiments speak of all small men ;
I know very well we're only fit

To be waited upon by the tall men!
Oh dear! Oh dear!

Hapless misfortune-I feel it-that I,
Should never be taller than four feet high.

There's one very pleasing reflection to me,
(To own it I cannot refuse ;)

With my short person contented I'd be,
If the ladies I can but amuse :
And should any fair one, I vow on my life,
Take pity on me and my song,

I'll purchase the licence-make her my wife,
And marry, though short, before long.
Oh dear! Oh dear!

To make her quite happy I'm sure I would try,
Although I'm not taller than four feet high.

THE ROW.

I KNEW by the noise that I heard all around

In the street where I was, that a row it was near; And I said, "if there's fun this good night to be found, As I love it so dearly, I shall sure find it here." Every tongue seem'd employ'd,and the row did increase, Whilst the Charleys their rattles so cheerily spring.

I hopp'd into the crowd, the news for to catch,
But scarcely had open'd my mouth to inquire,
When a rascally thief made off with my watch,
Tript my heels, and so laid me flat down in the mire
The watchmen surrounded, and me bore away,
And in limbo was kept till the dawn of next day.
To the justice they took me, to tell my sad tale,
Who ask'd me what in defence I'd to say,
I told him that rogues in the crowd did assail,
Used my person quite ill, and my watch bore away.
He looking quite grim, bade me good hours keep,
Pay a shilling-return to my home with all speed.

PADDY O'LYNN.

ONE Paddy O'Lynn courted Widdy M'Kay,
He bold as a lion, she fresh as the day;

Now to win her, he knew he the widdy must plaise,
So he thought the best thing he could do was to taze.
Now Paddy be aisy, you devil, she'd cry,

And she'd smack Paddy's chops, while she'd look at

him sly;

[affairs, "Lave your tricks and your nonsense, and mind your Through your tickling I know I'll be tumbling up stairs!"

"My honey," says Paddy, "that, some folks do say, Is a sign that you'll soon know your own wedding day; And it's pleased that I am-sure to say so's no sin, Since 'tis all for good luck," says Paddy O'Lynn. "Arrah, now!" says she, "Pat, don't think of the like, For I didn't say no to your fat cousin Mike, The sole of my shoe he loves, though it arn't whole:" Says Paddy, "I'd rather love you than your soul." "Now Paddy, I'll squeal, and I'll punch your fool's

head

[bed;" Sure I'm dreaming each night, I've your cousin in