But harvest is coming-Potatoes are come ! Our prospect clears up; ye complainers be dumb!

Derry down. And tho' I've no money, and tho' l've no lands, I've head on my shoulders, and a pair of good

hands; So I'll work the whole week and on Sundays I'll seek At church how to bear all the wants of the week. The gentlefolks too will afford us supplies, They'll subscribe-and they'll give up their pud. dings and pies.

Derry down. Then before I'm induc'd to take part in a Riot, I'll ask this short question-What shall I get by it! So I'll e’en wait a little till cheaper the bread, For a mittimus hangs o'er each Rioter's head : And when of two evils I'm ask'd which is best, I'd rather be hungry than hang'd, I protest.

Derry down. Quoth Tom, thou art right, if I rise I'm a Turk, So he threw down his pitchfork, and went to his


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ARAN AUCTIONEER. OH, what a story the papers have been telling us,

About a little animal of mighty price, And who ever thought but an Auctioneer of selling

us, For near three hundred yellow boys, a trap for mice: Of its beauties and its qualities, no doubt he told

'em fine tales, But for me, I should just as soon have bought a

cat of nine tails,

I wou'dn't give for all the Cats in Christendom,

so vast a fee, Not to save 'em from the Catacombs, or Cata

line's catastrophe;
Kate of Russia, Katterfelto's Cat, and Catalani,

Are every one,
By Tom outdone,

As you shall hear. (Spoken.)_We'll suppose Mr. Cat's-eye, the Auctioneer, with his catalogue in one hand, and a hammer like a Catapulta in the other, mounted in the rostrum at the great room, in Cateaton Street :

« Hem! Leds and Gemmen-Cats are of two distinctions: Thomas and Tabby-This is of the former breed, and the only instance in which I have seen beauty monopolized by a male! Look at him, ladies! what a magnificent mouser! meek, though masculine! The curious Concatenation of colour in that Cat, calls Categorically for your best bidding. Place a proper price upon poor Pussey; consult your feline bosoms, and bid me knock him down."

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

think dear. Next I should tell you the company around him,

Who emulously bid, as if they all were wild ; Tom thought 'em mad, while they King of Kittens

crown'd him, And kiss'd; caress’d, and dandled him just like a

child: Lady Letty Longwaist, and Mrs. Martha Griskin, Prim Polly Pussy-love, Miss Scratch, and Biddy

Twiskin, Solemn Sally Solus, who, to no man yes had ever

said; Killing Kitty Crookedlegs, and neat Miss Nelly

Neverwed, Crowding, squeezing, nodding, bidding, each for

Puss so eager,

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 you, Miss.-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 wita nessed! See how he twists his tail, and washes his Whiskers !- -Tom, Tom, Tom! (Cat mews.) How musically and divinely be 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, going-Any sum for Tommy Tortoise-shell you can't

think dear.

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

going Gone -- 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.


MRS. FLINN AND THE BOLD DRAGOON. 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 minx,

Her quizzing glass, her leer, and sidle, V, 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. À 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..

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