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You 're a Christian, no doubt you believe, you believe :

You ’re a martyr, whatever you be!

- Is the breakfast-hour past? They must wait, they

must wait, While the coffee boils sullenly down, While the Johnny-cake burns on the grate, on the

grate, And the toast is done frightfully brown.

— Yes, your dinner will keep ; let it cool, let it cool,

And Madam may worry and fret,
And children half-starved go to school, go to school ;

He can't think of sparing you yet.

- Hark! the bell for the train ! “Come along ! Come

along! For there is n't a second to lose." “ ALL ABOARD !” (He holds on.) “ Fsht! ding-dong!

Fsht! ding-dong!” –
You can follow on foot, if you choose.

- There's a maid with a cheek like a peach, like a peach,

That is waiting for you in the church;—
But he clings to your side like a leech, like a leech,

And you leave your lost bride in the lurch.

- There's a babe in a fit, — hurry quick! hurry quick !

To the doctor's as fast as you can!
The baby is off, while you stick, while you stick,

In the grip of the dreadful Old Man !

- I have looked on the face of the Bore, of the Bore ;

The voice of the Simple I know;
I have welcomed the Flat at my door, at my door ;

I have sat by the side of the Slow;

I have walked like a lamb by the friend, by the friend,

That stuck to my skirts like a burr ; I have borne the stale talk without end, without end,

Of the sitter whom nothing could stir :

But my hamstrings grow loose, and I shake, and I shake,

At the sight of the dreadful Old Man ;
Yea, I quiver and quake, and I take, and I take,

To my legs with what vigor I can !

O the dreadful Old Man of the Sea, of the Sea !

He's come back like the Wandering Jew! He has had his cold claw upon me, upon me,

And be sure that he'll have it on you !

ODE FOR A SOCIAL MEETING:

WITH SLIGHT ALTERATIONS BY A TEETOTALER.

COME! fill a fresh bumper, — for why should we go

logwood While the neetat still reddens our cups as they flow?

decoction Pour out the rich juices still bright with the sun,

dye-stuff Till o'er the brimmed crystal the rubios shall run.

half-ripened apples The purple globed clusters their life-dews have bled ;

taste

sugar of lead How sweet is the breath of the fragrance they shod! rank poisons

wines !!! For summer's, last rošos lie hid in the wines

stable-boys smoking long-nines. That were garnered by maidenswho laughedthro’the vines

scowl

howl

eneer

scoff Then a smile, and a glass, and a toast, and a ebeer,

strychnine and whiskey, and ratsbane and beer
For all the good wine, and we're some of it here!
In cellar, in pantry, in attic, in hall,

Down, down with the tyrant that masters us all!
Long live the gay servant that laughs for us all!

THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE:

OR THE WONDERFUL “ONE-HOSS SHAY."

A LOGICAL STORY.

HAVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it - ah, but stay,
I'll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, –
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, —
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.

It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, —
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, —
Above or below, or within or without, -
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but does n't wear out.

But the Deacon swore, (as Deacons do,
With an “I dew vum,” or an “ I tell yeou,")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
’n’ the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun’;
It should be so built that it couldn' break daown:
-“Fur," said the Deacon, “’t’s mighty plain
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan’ the strain ;
'n' the way ť fix it, uz I maintain,

Is only jest
To make that place uz strong uz the rest.”

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,

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