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"Tis strange, and yet true, That you and I meet here together!

Together! That you and I meet here together!"

Said the goose, (with a stare,)

“Mr. Fox, are you there? And to see you, indeed, is a pleasure !

In truth, I must say,

That your visit to-day
Is truly delight beyond measure!"

" 'Yond measure!”' &c.
Says the fox, “ then we'll walk,

And like friends so dear talk, And never was seen finer weather.”

Says the goose, “ gander Grange

Has forbade me to range,
Or else we would travel together,

Or. else we would travel together.''

Said the fox, “ let him be,

Take an airing with me; And hear both the goldfinch and linnet! · On the love of a friend

You can, goosy, depend, And”-snapt off her head in a minute!

A minute! “And”-snapt off her head in a minute!

My merry gentle people, pray

Will you list a minute,
For, though my song it is not long.

There's something comic in it.
To sing of nails, if you'll permit,
My sportive muse intends, sirs,

A subject which I now have pat

Just at my fingers' ends, sirs.
The world it is a bag of nails,

And some are very queer ones,
And some are flats, and some are sharps,

And some are very dear ones.
We've sprigs, and spikes, and sparables,

Some little, great, and small, sir,
Some folks love nails with monstrous heads,
* And some love none at all, sir.
The bachelor's a hob-nail,

He rusts for want of use, sir, The misers, they're no nails at all,

They're all a pack of screws, sir, An enemy will get some clouts

If here they chance to roam, sir, For Yankee boys, like hammers, will,

Be sure to drive them home, sir.
The doctor nails you with his bill,

Which often proves a sore nail,
The undertaker wishes you
· As dead as any door-nail.
You'll often find each agent

To be nailing his employer;
The lawyer nails his client,

And the devil nails the lawyer. Dame Fortune is a brad-awl,

And often does contrive it To make each nail go easily

Where'er she please to drive it. Then, if I gain your kind applause

For what I've sung or said, sir, Then you'll admit that I have hit

The right nail on the head, sir.

As you've all called upon me to give you a song,
I'll sing you a queer one, that's not very long,
About an old husband, and young Mrs. Trim,
A vixen, that very oft quarrelled with him.

Tol lol, &c.
'Twas one Sunday morning when all but great sinners,
These people were talking of cooking their dinners,
Says he, I'll have roast, and I will not be foiled,
Says she, but you shall, for the leg shall be boiled.

Tol lol, &c. They then got to blows, and made quick an uproar, Which disturbed a gent living upon the first floor, Who up stairs did run, and first did begin With words, but soon after knocked down Mr. Trim.

Tol lol, &c. When Mrs. Trim saw her old husband used so, With the fat leg of mutton she hit Brown a blow, Saying, “ what's that to you, if Tim quarrels with I?” Then she hit him another hard thump on the eye.

Tol lol, &c. Says Brown, I'll be hanged if I meddle again, For I get nought but grease and a great deal of pain; So husbands and wives they may fight if they will, All I'll say will be that they may fight away still.

Tol lol, &c.



OLD Flam was a lawyer so grim,

He married his maid, people say;

But scarce was the honey moon dim

When the devil cried, Flam, come away.
Oh! oh! story of woe, when the devil cried, Flam,

come away.
How she wish'd that the tear-drop would fall,

But poor Mrs. Flam could not weep;
And soon, in a black velvet pall,
She popp'd the old lawyer to sleep.

Oh oh, &c. · She thought of her love as she lay,

When the ghost of the late Mr. Flam,
In his green velvet cap, came to say,
“Phoo, nonsense! your grief is all sham.”

Oh! oh, &c.
Quoth she, “ ghost, I'm no longer thine,

I wo'n't lie alone in the dark,
For to-morrow, at half-after nine,
Mr. Flam, I shall marry your clerk.”

Oh! oh, &c.

BACHELOR'S FARE. Funny and free are a bachelor's revelries,

Cherrily, merrily, passes his life; Nothing knows he of connubial deviltries,

Troublesome children and clamorous wife. Free from satiety, care, and anxiety

Charms in variety fall to his share;
Bacchus's blisses, and Venus's kisses,

This, boys, this, is the bachelor's fare.
A wife, like a cannister, chattering, clattering,

Tied to a dog for his torment and dread,
All be-spattering, bumping and battering,

Hurries and worries him till he is dead;

Eld ones are two devils haunted with blue devils,

Young ones are new devils raising despair: Doctors and nurses combining their curses,

Adieu to full purses and bachelor's fare. Through such folly days, once sweet holidays

Soon are embitter'd by wrangling and strife: Wives turn jolly days to melancholy days,

All perplexing and vexing one's life; Children are riotous, maid-servants fly at us,

Mammy to quiet us, growls like a bear; Polly is squalling, and Molly is bawling,

While dad is recalling his bachelor's fare. When they are older grown, then they are bolder

grown, Turning your temper, and spurning your rule: Girls, through foolishness, passion, or mulishness,

Parry your wishes and marry a fool. Boys will anticipate, lavish and dissipate,

All that your busy pate hoarded with care; Then tell me what jollity, fun, and frivolity,

Equals in quality bachelor's fare.

JACK, VAT ARE YOU ARTER? 'Twas summer-time when Nan and I

(And Nan was born to charm me) Once met beside the grunters' sty,

And cried, “ now, Jack, don't harm me?"
“ Harm you," says I, “ dear creature, no!

But heart for heart we'll barter,”
“ Vy yes,” says she, “ you tell me so;

But Jack, vat are you arter?”
Says I, “ you know 'twas Christmas last

When we agreed to wed, love!
And, while the cellar-door was fast,

The sweetest things you said, love!

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