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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,
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!” –
- There's a maid with a cheek like a peach, like a peach,
That is waiting for you in the church;—
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!
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 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 ;
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 ;
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
scoff Then a smile, and a glass, and a toast, and a ebeer,
strychnine and whiskey, and ratsbane and beer
Down, down with the tyrant that masters us all!
THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE:
OR THE WONDERFUL “ONE-HOSS SHAY."
A LOGICAL STORY.
HAVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
But the Deacon swore, (as Deacons do,
Is only jest
So the Deacon inquired of the village folk