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When plump flew the pudding down Giles's throat,

And on the spot he died, Now his ghost, once a year, bolting pudding is seen, While blue devils sing every mouthful between,

Ding, dong, bo!

MAJOR MACPHERSON AND MISS SCOUT.
MAJOR Macpherson heaved a sigh,

Tol de diddle dol, &c.
And Major Macpherson didn't know why,

Tol de, &c. But Major Macpherson soon found out,

Tol de, &c. It was all for Miss Lavinia Scout,

des Tol de, &c. Says Major Macpherson, I've no doubt,

Tol de, &c. I'm scorned by Miss Lavinia Scout;

Tol de, &c.
And, since on her I still must doat,

Tol de, &c.
I'll make it a point to cut my throat.

Tol de, &c.
Then Major Macpherson took a razor,

Tol de, &c.
And, says he, den me but I'll amaze her!

Tol de, &c.
My fate's decreed-my hour is come;

Tol de, &c.
Then he drew the edge-across his thumb;

Tol de, &c. · And still on his woes did the Major harp,

Tol de, &c. But the Major was young, and the razor was sharp;

Tol de, &c.

No, says he, to kill himself a brave man scorns;

Tol de, &c. So, instead of his throat, he cut his corns.

Tol de, &c.

THE WASHING DAY.
THE sky with clouds was overcast,

The rain began to fall,
My wife she beat the children,

And rais’d a pretty squall;
She bade me with a scolding look,

To get out of her way;
The do'il a bit of comfort's there,

All on a washing day.
For it's thump, thump, scold, scold, thump, thump

away, The de'il a bit of comfort's there, all on a washing day. My Kate she is a bonny wife,

There's none so free from evil,
Except upon a washing day,

And then she is the devil;
The very kittens on the hearth,

They will not even play-
Away they jump, with many a thump,
All on a washing day.

For it's thump, &c.
A friend of mine once asked me,

How long Kate had been dead
Lamenting the good creature,

And sorry I was wed
To such a scolding vixen,

Whilst he had been at sea.
The truth it was he chanced to come
Upon a washing day,

When it was thump, &c.

I asked him to come and dine

Come, come, says I, odds bud's,
I'll no denial take you shall,

Tho' Kate is in the suds:
But what he had to dine upon,

In faith I shall not say,
But I'll wager he'll not come again,
Upon a washing day.

For it's thump, &c
On the sad morning when I rise, :

I make a fervent prayer,
Up to the gods, that it may be

Throughout the day quite fair:
That not a gown or handkerchief,

May in the ditch bé laid-
Oh! should it happen so, e'gad,
I'd catch a broken head.

For it's thump, &c.

PHRENOLOGY.

TUNE.Oh! what a row!' COME, folks, come to my phrenologic lecturing,

Every mental faculty I can descry; Bring all your heads with ye—I'll silence all conjectur

ing My bump-descerning talents sure none deny,

For this, good folks, is not a hoax,

My system orthodox is, 0!
Just only now my hand allow

To feel your knowledge-boxes, O!
Of this bump or that, which-from mental causes swell

up so, I'll make it clear each bumpkin here its organ shall

develope so,

Lumps, bumps, pates, fates, scullery, medullary,

Phenomena, developed are by Doctor Gall.

SPOKEN.] Ladies and shentlemans, I be come all de vay from Jarmany for to impart to de English nation de benefit of prhenology. Allow me sir to feel your head.'— Well, what do you feel?'— Here's the organ of disinterestedness as pig as a tompling.'- What, that there bump?'--Yes. — Well, then, you know a great deal about it, for I got that by running my head against the pole of a hackney-coach in the minories,'

Come, folks, &c. Love's ogling now no emotion of the soul implies;

Lavater and system, if you'd live renounce; Carbuncle, or grog blossom, no devotion to the bowl

implies, Propensity we only see upon the sconce! The swelling heart can ne'er impart its feelings by the

• throb alone, The head that swells much better tells by counting of

the nobs alone! We're an ultra intellectually organized nobility.

: Lumps, bumps, &c. SPOKEN.] · Plesh my soul, plesh my soul, vat a bump! It is the organ of transportation for fourteen years'—' Master, you be talking so much about these here organs, be they any thing like the organ which is played at Vauxhall?'— No, my good fellow, the differance is this; the organ at Vauxhall is played by keys, which are flats and sharps, but the organs of Gall are fingered by flats alone.

Come, folks, &c. Senatorial candidates, for suffrages solicitous, Must go in shoals, with shaven poles, to poll for

votes, And matrimonial suitors, to terminate felicitous,

To woo sincere, must now appear as bald as coots.

Don't, if you wed, expose your head,

Think what the jade Delilah did,
What, in his sleep, to get a peep

At Samson's bumps, she slyly did,
To find, no doubt, the organ out his weakness did con-

sist in, She shaved his head, and then betrayed him to the wicked Philistine.

Lumps, bumps, &c. · SPOKEN.] My dear sir, permit my hand one moment's proximity to your pericranium. Bless me, very strange; I beg to inquire if you were ever trepanned, sir?'- Never, since my marriage; that's the only time they ever trepanned me, and they won't catch me at that fun again!'- Ah! I declare here is the organ of adhesiveness.'--" True doctor, wery true, and wery adhesive; it's a bit of bees-wax I put there to keep my vig on, as the vind is high on Wauxhall-bridge.

Come, folks, &c.

THE CAT'S SERENADE. .

Tune,— The young May Moon.'
THE lamps are faintly gleaming, love,
The thief on his walk is scheming, love,

And it's sweet to crawl

O’er the dead wall,
While the tabbies are gently screaming, love.
Then put out one paw so white, my dear,
The house-tops are covered with light, my dear,

Through the day, at our ease,

We'll sleep when we please, And we'll ramble abroad through the night, my dear. Now all the world is sleeping, love! But the bulky his night-watch keeping, love!

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