Yes, the Corsican Frog we'll united subdue,
To our country steady,

Staunch, firm, and ready,

We'll die e'er discredit our native true blue.

THE AUCTIONEER.

THE auctioneer mounts, and---first hawing and hemming--

Addresses his audience with---Ladies and gemmen,
Permit me to make on this sale a few structures,
'Tis compris'd of some choice allegorical pictures.
Lot one is a portrait of Truth:---bid away!
For Truth, là'es and gentlemen, what shall we say?

Suppose we say twenty thousand pounds for Truth: ten thousand five: one: five hundred: one hundred twenty guineas: one guinea. Nobody bid for truth? No lover nor lawyer in company stands in need of a little Truth? Any thing to begin with. "Sixpence!" "And a halfpenny!" Thank you, Sir.

A going, a going, a going---come, spirit, bid on; Will nobody bid more? A going---gone.

Set down Truth to the gentleman in the ragged cassock.

Lot two is Frugality modest and meek,

Mild Content in her eye, the fresh rose on her cheek,

The offspring of Prudence, the parent of Health, Who, in Nature's scant wishes, find Croesus' wealth.

What d'ye say for Frugality, ladies? O fie! What, nobody bid! Nobody!!---John, put Frugality by.

Lot three Dissipation. That's engaged: I could have sold them if I had had a thousand. Lot four:

Crim. Con. Oh Lord, that is disposed of, by private contract. Lot five: Fashion. Come, ladies, what shall we say for fashion?"Twenty thousand pounds."---Thank you Ma'am.---" Twenty-five.” - Thirty."--.

A going, a going, a going---come, spirit, bid on-What, nobody bid more?

Mr. Smiler, to save trouble, you may send Fashion to my house upon your own terms." Much obliged to your ladyship.

---Going--gone.

Set down Fashion to Lady Kitty Cockahoop.

Next lot is the Cardinal Virtues :---why, John, Some strange metamorphose they've all undergone: Why, Fortitude trembles, and looks like a sheep! While Temp'rance is tipsy! and Justice asleep! And as for Ma'am Prudence, she's quite in her airs Here, John, kick the Cardinal Virtues down stairs!

Let me see, what have we else? Conscience. Oh, Lord! Honour. Worse and worse! A parcel of antiquated stuff. What's this? Anarchy !! Why, John, what business has Anarchy here? I thought that you knew that it was sold, long ago, for exportation.---And now you talk of exportation, you know this Portrait of Popularity is to be sent, as a public gift, to the Royal Brothers upon the Continent.---Loyalty. A hundred thousand pounds---two hundred thousand---three---four--five---six---seven---eight---a million---two million---two million---three million.'-

A going, a going, a going---come, courage, bid on: A going, a going,

Ten million in five hundred places! Oh! I knew it was utterly impossible ever to find a single purchaser for Loyalty.

-Going---gone.

Set down Loyalty to the whole nation.

What remains, there is little occasion to heed、
Of Honor and Worth you have none of you need;
Good Humour and Frolic, and Laughter so plump,
I've sold you again and again, in a lump.

The last lot's Content, of sweet Pleasure the twin,
Come purchase Content, and I'll throw Pleasure in.

Come, ladies and gentlemen, what shall we say for Content? It is your interest to buy Content, What beauty can smile, what alderman guttle, without Content? I had once an idea of buying it in, but my Content receives all its value from the reflection of your's. Come, I'll take nods and smiles for money. Much obliged to you, Sir :---particularly favoured, Ma'am:---highly honoured, Sir-you flatter me exceedingly, Miss!

A going, a going, a going--come, courage, bid on: A going, a going--

Infinitely above the full value! I am overwhelmed with gratitude!

--A going---gone.

Set down Content to the present company.

TO-MORROW.

IN the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining, May my fate no less fortunate be;

Than a snug elbow-chair can afford, for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;

With an ambling pad poney to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow;

And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn Look forward with hope for to-morrow.

With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too,

As the sunshine or rain may prevail,

With a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too,

And a barn for the use of the flail:

A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,

And a purse when a friend wants to borrow; I'll envy no Nabob his riches or fame,

Nor what honours may wait him to-morrow.

From the bleak northern blast, may my cot be completely

Secur'd by a neighbouring hill,

And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly,

By the sound of a murmuring rill :

And while peace and plenty I find at my board, With a heart free from sickness and sorrow; With my friends will I share what to-day may afford,

And let them spread the table to-morrow.

And when I at last must throw off this frail covering,

Which I've worn for threescore years and ten; On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hovering,

Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again;

But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey,

And with smiles, count each wrinkle and furrow, As this old worn out stuff which is thread-bare to-day,

May become everlasting to-morrow.

MUSHA GRAH WHAT WILL BECOME OF ME.

Tune-Nobody coming to marry me.

TWAS yesterday noon at dark,

I went to see Katty Maloy,

Whose beauty had just like a spark
Set fire to my heart, my dear joy.

And its musha grah, what will become of me.
Arrah now what will I do,

Sure Katty is making big fun of me,

Which makes me look wond'rous blue.

With my head in my hand I advanc'd
And stood on one knee to greet her,
My heart like a poney, joy, pranc'd,
Becase that it happen'd to meet her.
And its musha grah, &c.

She tipt me a Kilmainham leer,

Nor pity'd my love-sfck disaster,
But bade me be seeking elsewhere,
Becase she was mate for my master.
And its musha, &c.

Since Katty you mane to be cruel,
Bad luck to myself then says I,
On a tree, to extinguish love's fuel,
I'll hang myself, honey, to dry.
And its musha, &c,

But fait all my blarney won't do,

She longs, perhaps, to see me a kicking,

But stop-I'll be damn'd if I do,

I'm not such a soft-pated chicken.

No more I'll sing what will become of me,
Musha grah, what will I do,

But get Judy at church to make one of me,
And Katty in turn may look blue.

THE PRIEST OF KAJAAGA.

A Priest of Kajaaga, as blind as a stone,
When he took to his bosom a wife,
Cried" deary, I never shall see you I own,
But you'll be the delight of my life.”