BOLD BABY BENNY.

BOLD BABY BENNY.

OUR Benny in the farmyard the cocks and hens would chase,
And being very fleet of foot, he oft would win the race;

He used to throw stones at the ducks, and beat them with a stick,
When nobody was near enough to see the cruel trick.

But once King Turkey strutted there, and fiercely turned to fight,
So, cowardly as cruel, Benny ran away in fright;

But faster ran that bird than he; his pretty clothes it tore;
So Benny in the farmyard threw sticks in fun no more.

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He does not like to hear the tale, and shakes his curly head,
And vows if we tell little folks, he will not go to bed.

But 'tis too late-the postman's gone; so Benny you must frown,
For now your foolish doings are all known about the town.

THE MINSTREL BOY.

THE minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you 'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him. "Land of song!" said the warrior-bard, "Though all the world betray thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee.”

The minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its cords asunder;
And said, "No chain shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!

Thy songs were made for the brave and free,
They shall never sound in slavery."