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Have Tom they would,
By all that's good,

As you shall hear. (Spoken in different voices.). Irish Lady.--Och, the dear crater, How beautiful he looks when he shuts his eyes! beautiful indeed-he'd even lure the mice to look at him--- Auctioneer.-Forty-five guineas in twenty places

( By different Ladies ) --Sixty-five ! Seventy! Eighty! Ninety ! Auctioneer.-Go on, Ladies; nobody bid more?-it's enough to make a Cat swear to think he should go for so little If the Countess of Catamaran was here, she'd outbid you all.--Miss Grimalkin, you're a Connoisseur in Cats—what shall I say?

-Ninety-five Guineas, sir. In an old tremulous tone.) Auctioneer.--Thank

-Mem, it does not signify you may bid as you will, but he shall be mine, if I bid all day; One Hundred and Twenty, Sir.

Auctioneer.--Thank ye, Lady Letty. Take a long last languishing look, Ladies.-What a wonder ! The only Tortoise-shell Tom the world ever witnessed! See how he twists his tail, and washes his Whiskers! --Tom, Tom, Tom!

(Cat mews.) How musically and divinely he mews, Ladies !One hundred and Seventy Guineas, Sir. Auctioneer.- Thank

ye, Miss Tabby, you'll not be made a Cat’s-paw of, depend on’t-( Ladies laugh.)

Auctioneer.-Glad to hear you laugh, Ladies : I see how the Cat jumps now ; Tommy's going.

Ladies and Gentlemen, a-going, going, goingAny sum for Tommy Tortoise-shell you can't

think dear.

you, Miss.

Now louder and warmer the competition growing, Politeness nearly banish'd in the grand fracas; Two hundred- Two hundred and thirty-three: a.

goingGone :-Never Cat of Talons met with such eclat :

Nay, nine or ten fine gentlemen were in the

fashion caught as well, As Ladies in their bidding for this purring piece

of tortoise-shell. The buyer bore him off in triumph, after all the

fun was done, And bells rung as if Whittingdon had been Lord

Mayor of London. Mice and Rats Aung up their hats, for joy that

Cats so scarce were, And Mouse-Trap makers rais'd the price, full cent

per cent I swear sir.



THERE was an ancient fair, O she lov'd a nate

young man, And she cou'dn't throw sly looks at him, but only

through her fan, With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx,

Her quizzing glass, her leer and sidle, O! she lov'd a bold Dragoon, with his long sword, saddle, bridle.

Whack! row de dow, dow. She had a rolling eye, its fellow it had none, Would you the reason know, it was, because she

had but one ; With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx,

She could not keep her one eye idle, Oh, she leer'd at this Dragoon, with his long

sword, &c. Now he was tall and slim, she squab and short was

grown, He look'd just like a mile in length, and she like a

mile-stone ; With her winks and blinks, this waddling mins, Her quizzing glass, her leer, and sidle, O, she sigh’d to this dragoon, bless your long

sword, &c.

Soon he led unto the church, the beauteous Mrs.

Flinn, Who a walnut could have crack'd 'tween her lovely

nose and chin ; Oh, then such winks, in marriage links,

The four foot bride from church did sidle, As the wife of this dragoon, with his long sword, &c. Á twelvemonth scarce had pass'd when he laid her

in the ground, Soon he threw the onion from his eyes, and touch'd

ten thousand pound; For her winks and blinks, her money chinks,

He does.not let her cash lay idle, So long life to this dragoon, with his long sword, saddle, bridle,

Whack! row de dow dow,



WOMEN and war alternate move,
The heart to glory and to love,
But when together both invite,
How shall we set the matter right;
When glory calls us to the field,
Honour must rule, and beauty yield,
For when Fame sounds the martial strain,
Her trumpet must not sound in vain.
Come, glory, come ! and if we live,
Let us deserve what love can give.
Come, glory, come, &c.
Then merrily we'll drain the bowl,
Whilst the loud thund'ring drum shall roll,
And when we fall our comrades brave,
Shall strew the laurel on our grave..


WHEN the sun bright ascending illumines the sky,
The lark sweetly carols, while soaring on high,
The bird of the dawn gives the signal of day,
Man rises refresh'd, and all nature is gay.
So when Selim in triumph returns from the fight,
And your terrors disperse like the shades of the

Let the mountains redouble your shouts to the vale
And echo ride forth on the wings of the gale.
Let the cymbal and clarinet burst on the ear,
And the life screams shrill, that all Afric shall hear,
Let one loyal chorus your voices employ,
And as he comes with victory, meet him with joy.


All, all with loud according voices raise
A general plaudit in our monarch's praise.


for you

HEYNONNI WHAT SHALL I DO. SO careless I sat in my grandmother's bower,

Singing heyronni no to my gay tambourine, When you asked for shelter awhile from a shower,

With heynonni no, sir, says I, what d'ye mean? Then so softly you vow'd, and you swore to be true,

I'm asham'd to have heard you, but more shan'd. To sing heynonni no, dear what shall I do? So lightly we fled from my grandmother's gate,

But silent I carried my gay tambourine ; Too soon I repented, and found when too late, What deceit all your false swearing promises

mean; For now with my poor little boy I may go,

And play to kind mortals who soften my woe,, Heynonni, hononni, heynonni, oh!

I'M sure I never can forget,
The word's you spoke when first we met,

The love your looks convey'd :
While to the minuet's gentle air,
I danc'd around that form so fair,

And thus my thoughts betray’d.
And when we join'd the lively throng,
And tript to sprightly notes along,

How happy was the scene !
Terpsichore, had she been there,
Enchanted by your grace and air,

Had sure enamour'd been.
" Then thus you danc'd, and so did I,
" While jocund music bade us fly,

« Old time could scarce keep pace;
“ His scythe and glass we did not mind,
6 Old Care and Time were left behind,

“ Lost in the mazy race.



TRAVELS AND VOYAGE. IN Ireland so frisky, with sweet girls and whisky,

We manag‘d to keep care and sorrow alvof, Our whirligig revels made all the blue devils Creep out with the smoke through a hole in the

roof. But well I remember, one foggy November,

My mother cried, Go make your fortune, my lad, Go bother the ninnies clean out of their quineas.

Away then I scamper'd from Ballinafad. Then to seek for promotion, I walk'd the wide

ocean, Was shipwreck'd and murder'd, and sold for a

slave, Over mountains and rivers was pelted to shivers,

And met on this land with a wat’ry grave.

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