JOLLY GOOD ALE AND OLD

I CANNOT eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good;

But sure I think that I can drink

With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;

I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, go bare;

Both foot and hand go cold;

But belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;

A little bread shall do me stead,

Much bread I do not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I wold,

I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt,
Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, etc.

And Tyb, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek ;
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a malt-worm shold;
And saith, Sweetheart, I take my part.
Of this jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, etc.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;

They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to:

And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily trowled,

God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.

Back and side go bare, go bare;

Both foot and hand go cold;

But belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

JOHN STILL.

LITTLE BILLEE

THERE were three sailors of Bristol City
Who took a boat and went to sea;
But first with beef and captain's biscuits
And pickled pork they loaded she.

There was gorging Jack, and guzzling Jimmy,
And the youngest he was little Billee;
Now when they'd got as far as the Equator,
They'd nothing left but one split pea.

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
I am extremely hungaree.'

To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy,
"We 've nothing left, us must eat we."
Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
"With one another we should n't agree!
There's little Bill, he 's young and tender,
We're old and tough, so let's eat he."
"O Billy! we 're going to kill and eat you,
So undo the button of your chemie."
When Bill received this information,
He used his pocket-handkerchie.

"First let me say my catechism
Which my poor mammy taught me.

"Make haste! make haste!" says guzzling Jimmy,
While Jack pulled out his snickersnee.

Billy went up to the main-top-gallant mast,
And down he fell on his bended knee;

He scarce had come to the Twelfth Commandment,
When up he jumps — “There's land I see!

"Jerusalem and Madagascar

And North and South Amerikee;
There's the British flag a riding at anchor,
With Admiral Napier, K. C. B."

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's,
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee ;
But as for little Bill he made him

The Captain of a Seventy-three.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

A CARMAN'S ACCOUNT OF A LAWSUIT MARRY, I lent my gossip my mare, to fetch hame coals, And he her drounit into the quarry holes;

And I ran to the consistory, for to pleinyie,

And there I happenit amang ane greedie meinyie.
They gave me first ane thing they call citandum,
Within aucht days I gat but libellandum;
Within ane month I gat ad opponendum;
In half ane year I gat inter-loquendum;
And syne I gat

how call ye it? — ad replicandum;
Bot I could never ane word yet understand him ;
And then they gart me cast out mony placks,
And gart me pay for four-and-twenty acts.
Bot or they came half gate to concludendum,
The fiend ane plack was left for to defend him.
Thus they postponed me twa year with their train,
Syne, hodie ad octo, bade me come again;
And then thir rooks they rowpit wonder fast
For sentence, silver, they cryit at the last.
Of pronunciandum they made we wonder fain,
Bot I gat never my gude grey mare again.

SIR DAVID LYNDSAY.

THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN
THEY'VE got a bran new organ, Sue,
For all their fuss and search;

They 've done just as they said they 'd do,
And fetched it into church.

They 're bound the critter shall be seen,

And on the preacher's right

They 've hoisted up their new machine

In everybody's sight.

They 've got a chorister and choir,

Ag'in my voice and vote;

For it was never my desire

To praise the Lord by note!

I've been a sister good an' true,

For five an' thirty year;

I've done what seemed my part to do,
An' prayed my duty clear;

I've sung the hymns both slow and quick,

Just as the preacher read;

And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick,
I took the fork an' led!

An' now, their bold, new-fangled ways

Is comin' all about;

And I, right in my latter days,

Am fairly crowded out!

To-day, the preacher, good old dear,

With tears all in his eyes,

Read

-

- "I can read my title clear

To mansions in the skies.

I al'ays liked that blessed hymn ·
I s'pose I al'ays will;

It somehow gratifies my whim,
In good old Ortonville;

But when that choir got up to sing,
I couldn't catch a word;

They sung the most dog-gonedest thing
A body ever heard!

Some worldly chaps was standin' near

An' when I see them grin,

I bid farewell to every fear,
And boldly waded in.

I thought I'd chase the tune along,
An' tried with all my might;

But though my voice is good an' strong,

I couldn't steer it right.

When they was high, then I was low,

An' also contra 'wise;

And I too fast, or they too slow,
To mansions in the skies.

An' after every verse, you know,
They played a little tune;

I did n't understand, and so
I started in too soon.

I pitched it purty middlin' high
And fetched a lusty tone,
But O, alas! I found that I
Was singin' there alone!
They laughed a little, I am told;
But I had done my best;
And not a wave of trouble rolled
Across my peaceful breast.

And Sister Brown I could but look,

She sits right front of me

She never was no singin' book,

An' never went to be;

But then she al'ays tried to do

The best she could, she said;

She understood the time, right through,
An' kep' it with her head;

But when she tried this mornin', O,
I had to laugh, or cough!

It kep' her head a bobbin' so,
It e'en a'most come off!

An' Deacon Tubbs, he all broke down,
As one might well suppose;

He took one look at Sister Brown,

And meekly scratched his nose.

He looked his hymn-book through and through, And laid it on the seat,

And then a pensive sigh he drew,

And looked completely beat.
An' when they took another bout,
He didn't even rise;

But drawed his red bandanner out,
An' wiped his weeping eyes.

I've been a sister, good an' true,
For five an' thirty year;

I've done what seemed my part to do,
An' prayed my duty clear;

But death will stop my voice, I know,
For he is on my track;

And some day, I'll to meetin' go,

And nevermore come back.

And when the folks get up to sing -
Whene'er that time shall be -

I do not want no patent thing

A squealin' over me!

WILL M. CARLETON.

HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY

HANS BREITMANN gife a barty,
Dey had biano-blayin;

I felled in lofe mit a Merican Frau,
Her name was Madilda Yane.
She had haar as prown ash a pretzel,
Her eyes vas himmel-blue,
Und ven dey looket indo mine
Dey shplit mine heart in two.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty,

I vent dere you'll pe pound;
I valtzet mit Madilda Yane

Und vent shpinnen round und round.
De pootiest Fräulein in de House,
She vayed dwo hoondred pound,
Und efery dime she gife a shoomp
She make de vindows sound.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty,

I dells you it cost him dear;