THE CIGAR 'Here comes Mr. Puff.-The Critic. 'I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd.'-Moore. SOME sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far, The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar. Some fret themselves to death Sir John requests my vote, Some want a German row, I never see the Post, I seldom read the Star, The Globe I scarcely heed, So I have my cigar. They tell me that Bank Stock Is sunk much under par; It's all the same to me, So I have my cigar. Honours have come to men 10 20 Ambition frets me not; A cab or glory's car Are just the same to me, So I have my cigar. I worship no vain Gods, But serve the household Lar I do not seek for fame, So I have my cigar. To have my choice among The toys of life's bazaar, The deuce may take them all, So I have my cigar. Some minds are often tost By tempests like a tar; I always seem in port, The ardent flame of love My bosom cannot char, They tell me Nancy Low, A CHARITY SERMON "I would have walked many a mile to have communed with you; and, believe me, I will shortly pay thee another visit; but my friends, I fancy, wonder at my stay, so let me have the money immediately." Trulliber then put on a stern look, and cried out, "Thou dost not intend to rob me?" "I would have thee know, friend," addressing himself to Adams, "I shall not learn my duty from such as thee. I know what charity is, better than to give to vagabonds."'—Joseph Andrews. I'm an extremely charitable man-no collar and long hair, though a little carroty; Demure, half-inclined to the unknown tongues, but I never gain'd anything by Charity I got a little boy into the Foundling, but his unfortunate mother was traced and baited, And the overseers found her out-and she found me out-and the child was affiliated. Oh, Charity will come home to roost- I once, near Whitehall's very old wall, when ballads danc'd over the whole of it, Put a bad five-shilling piece into a beggar's hat, but the old hat had got a hole in it; And a little boy caught it in his little hat, and an officer's eye seem'd to care for it, As my bad crown-piece went through his bad crownpiece, and they took me up to Queen's Square for it. Oh, Charity, &c. 10 I let my very old (condemn'd) old house to a man, at a rent that was shockingly low, So I found a roof for his ten motherless babes-all defunct and fatherless now; For the plaguey one-sided party-wall fell in, so did the roof, on son and daughter, And twelve jurymen sat on eleven bodies, and brought in a very personal verdict of Manslaughter. Oh, Charity, &c. I picked up a young well-dress'd gentleman, who had fallen in a fit in St. Martin's Court, And charitably offer'd to see him home,—for charity always seem'd to be my forte, And I've had presents for seeing fallen gentlemen home, but this was a very unlucky job Do you know, he got my watch-my purse-and my handkerchief-for it was one of the swell mob. Oh, Charity, &c. Being four miles from Town, I stopt a horse that had run away with a man, when it seem'd that they must be dash'd to pieces, Though several kind people were following him with all their might—but such following a horse his speed increases; 20 I held the horse while he went to recruit his strength; and I meant to ride home, of course; But the crowd came up and took me up-for it turned out the man had run away with the horse. Oh, Charity, &c. I watch'd last month all the drovers and drivers about the suburbs, for it 's a positive fact, That I think the utmost penalty ought always to be enforc'd against everybody under Mr. Martin's Act; But I couldn't catch one hit over the horns, or over the shins, or on the ears, or over the head; And I caught a rheumatism from early wet hours, and got five weeks of ten swell'd fingers in bed. Oh, Charity, &c. Well, I've utterly done with Charity, though I us'd so to preach about its finest fount; Charity may do for some that are more lucky, but I can't turn it to any account It goes so the very reverse way—even if one chirrups it up with a dust of piety; That henceforth let it be understood, I take my name entirely out of the List of the Subscribers to the Humane Society. Oh, Charity, &c. 30 Two anonymous letters have come, That declare you shall die like a 30 And it may or may not-be a humBut I wish you a happy New Year! The old lawsuit with Levy is lost; You are fined for not cleansing the street; And the water-pipe 's burst with the frost, And theroof lets therain in and sleet. Your old tenant at seventy-four Has gone off in the night, with his gear, And has taken the key of the door But I wish you a happy New Year! There's the 'Sun' and the 'Phoenix The new housemaid 's the greatest of flirts 70 She has men in the house, that is clear; And the laundress has pawn'd all your shirts, But I wish you a happy New Year! Your Account of a Visit to Rome,' Not a critic on earth seems to laud, And old Huggins is lately come home, And will swear that your Claude isn't Claude; Your election is far from secure, Though it's likely to cost very dear; You've come out in a caricatureBut I wish you a happy New Year! O BETTY-I beg pardon-Fanny K.! (I was just thinking of your Betty Finnikin)— In quite a friendly way— I like your theatre, though but a minikin ; Find wisdom in the plan That keeps large reservoirs for little Pooles. I like your boxes where the audience sit And show us passengers so rich and rare, And really think-though Irish it may seem— ΤΟ 20 30 |