I long to see it soon,

O my love is like the mulberry,

All cover'd o'er with bloom.

As fond as thou my bonny lass,
Of full-proof gin am I ;

For I will drink with thee, my dear,
And drain the bottle dry.

I'll drain the bottle dry, my dear,
We'll sing and dance for fun;
And if you wish for more, my dear,
Why for it I will run.

But I must cut my stick, my love,
And hop the twig ashore;
And we'll get fou again, my dear,
A thousand times or more.

Do they dream you'll basely cower?
At their threats, you scoff:

Up, you millions, for the fight;
Up, to rush your foes to flight;
Up, for freedom and for right;
Sweep these Tories off.

Tell them this is not the day
They, their tyrant tricks, can play
Up, and forward to the fray;

On, to war and win;

What you will you've strength to do;
Men, you'll to yourselves be true;
Out with Salisbury and his crew;
In with Gladstone-in.

Thunder well your meaning out;
Leave the Whigs and rats no doubt,
All the turn-coats, out you'll rout;
Even Joe and John.

If your teeth you plainly show,
They turn tail as well you know;
Will they wait your bite? No-no;
On to smash them-on!

From Radical Rhymes. By W. C. Bennett.

A parody in a somewhat similar strain will be found in Punch, June 26, 1886, relating to Mr. Gladstone's election tour in Scotland.

LOVE AND LIBERTY.

WHERE'S the girl can fear disdain?
Where's the man can woman pain?
Where's the heart not proud to gain
Love and Liberty?

Where's the wretch can woman shun?
(Woman! life's meridian sun!)

Cold, and not by beauty won!
Poltroon let him be!

Fill the glass to Beauty's power!

Fill the glass to Freedom's hour!

Naught that breathes should live to sour
Love and Liberty!

The Universal Songster.

:0:

THE "MODEL" SUIT.

SHOULD old habiliments be forgot,
Especially such as mine?

Oh, no, I venerate the lot,

For the sake of Auld Langsyne! For Auld Langsyne my boys,

Though them and I decline,

And they shabby get, I'll stick to 'em yet, For the sake of Auld Langsyne.

Now, here's a beaver, look at that,

This old chapeau of mine;

'Tis the first Policeman's left off hat,
In eighteen twenty-nine,

In eighteen twenty-nine, my boys,
Yet still to make it shine,

I dip it into the water but',

For the sake of Auld Langsyne.

There's a coat, my boys, that saw the days Of poor Queen Caroline,

Of the fit and cloth, that George the Fourth,

In as Regent used to shine.

That is it was a fit, my boys,

But I don't too often dine,

So it's rather loose, and worse for use,

Still I don it, for Auld Langsyne.

J. A. HARDWICK.

:0:

AULD LANG SYNE

LET auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind,
Oh! from your memory ever blot
The days of auld lang syne.

No steam-no gas, rail-road to pass,

O'er Menai Bridge so fine;

The present hour is worth a power

Of days of auld lang syne.

For friend of auld lang syne, dear ma'am,

Was never friend of mine

Depend on me, no enemy

Like friend of auld lang syne!

The ancient fair with youthful air

Who'd for twenty-nine,
pass

Finds no such bore, when past twa score,
As friend of auld lang syne.

Take this advice of mine, dear ma'am,
Cut friends of auld lang syne ;-
The twaddling sage who tells one's age,
Is-friend of auld lang syne !

By Lady Clarke, in "The Comic Offering
London. Smith, Elder & Co.

" for 1832.

A SONG FOR SMALL GERMANS, IN 1871.

YE German Princes puir an' proud,

You sae do Commerce scorn,

Ye wadna hae Louise allowed

To wed the Lord o' Lorne,

In trade's honest line, you fools,
In trade's honest line;
Because o' kinsmen to Argyll,
In trade's honest line!

Your wealth and wits alike are sma',

Ye pack o' lazy loons,

You that were in your mouths born a'

Wi' German siller spoons.

In trade's honest line, you fools,
In trade's honest line;

Wad ye'd the wit your bread to get
In trade's honest line!

Are ye na blate, ye pauper chiels,

Ye burdens on the soil,

To think ye're owin' for your meals
To ither people's toil?

In trade's honest line, ye fools,
In trade's honest line;

Their livin' whilst your betters earn
In trade's honest line?

Punch. February 4, 1871.

A RINK'S A RINK FOR A' THAT.

Is there, at jolly skating rinks,
Who shakes his head and a' that,

Who from the fun of skating shrinks?
We still will rink for a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
Whate'er it cost and a' that,
The entrance is but half-a-crown-
At least we're good for a' that.
What tho' we get an ugly spill,
And break our limbs and a' that,
We will not bear it any ill,

A rink's a rink for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

We do not care for a' that,
And rinking, spite of all its risks,
Is king o' sports for a' that.

You see your party blithe and gay,
Who bats and bowls, and a' that,
Though hundreds go to see him play,
He cannot rink for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

His bat, and ball, and a' that;
The man who feels at home on wheels,
He looks and laughs at a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may
As come it will and a' that,
That roller skates and skating rinks,
May hold their own and a' that,
For a' that, and a' that,
The time will come, and a' that,
When every man and woman, too,
Shall skate and rink and a' that.

From Idyls of the Rink. By A. W. Mackenzie. Edition. London: Hardwicke & Bogue. 1877.

Second

THE WEARING O' THE SASHES, OH!

ALL people bow at Fashion's Shrine,
Especially where there cash is, O!
And the latest thing in Fashion's line
Is most extensive sashes, O!

Chorus.

We've seen those sashes, O! Red and yellow sashes, O! In fact, all hues the ladies choose For vast and varied sashes, O!

That lovely and all-conquering sex,

Who in man's heart makes gashes, O! Will now still more man's mind perplex

By flying such big sashes, O!-(Chorus.) For now, where Fashion's nymphs are seen, Through man this thought now flashes, O! That maybe all the darlings mean

To hide themselves in sashes, O !—(Chorus.)

And, oh! if Woman should do this,

We'd need sackcloth and ashes, O!

Then do not rob us of our bliss

You fine and large new sashes, O !—(Chorus.)

Who but reveres the lovely dears?

Love meant us for their "mashes," O!
And so, why plan to draw poor man
By adding large-sized sashes, O!
Chorus.

But still they wear those sashes, O!
And sweet are all those sashes, O!
Like window-frames our maids and dames
Now need a lot of sashes, O!

Fun. August 4, 1886.

MY KITTY O!

DULL books, good bye! No more shall I
In you seek recreation, O;

I'll pore no more o'er musty lore
For fruitless information, O,
I'll o'er the foam, I'll hie me home,
I'll leave the dreary city, O,

O'er hill and dale, through glen and vale,
I'll roam alone with Kitty, O,

My Kitty, O! My Kitty, O!
Oh, what are joys of city, O,

Long years compared with one hour shared
In converse sweet with Kitty O?

Her eye is bright, her step so light
It scarcely bends the daisy, O.
If men her laugh like wine could quaff
'Twould surely send them crazy, O.
Soft ringlets press in fond caress

Around her ears so pretty, O,
And brow of snow, and lips aglow,
And rosy cheeks has Kitty, O.

My Kitty, O! My Kitty, O!

She's handsome, winsome, witty, O;
Seek far and near, from Bann to Clear,
You'll meet no peer for Kitty, O!

From Irish Songs and Poems. By M. Fahy. 1887.

-;0:

A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT.

'A MAN'S a man,' says Robert Burns, 'For a' that, and a' that; '

But though the song be clear and strong,

It lacks a note for a' that.

The lout who'd shirk his daily work,
Yet claim his wage and a' that,
Or beg when he might earn his bread,
Is not a man for a' that.

II.

If all who dine on homely fare'
Were true and brave and a' that,
And none whose garb is 'hodden grey'
Was fool or knave and a' that,
The vice and crime that shame our time
Would disappear and a' that,

And ploughmen be as good as Kings,
And churls as earls for a' that.

III.

But 'tis not so; yon brawny fool,

Who swaggers, swears, and a' that, And thinks because his strong right arm Might fell an ox and a' that,

That he's as noble, man for man,

As Duke or Lord and a that,

Is but an animal at best,

And not a man for a' that,

IV.

A man may own a large estate,
Have palace, park, and a' that,
And not for birth, but honest worth,
Be thrice a man for a' that.
And Donald herding on the moor,
Who beats his wife and a' that,
Is nothing but a brutal boor,
Nor half a man for a' that.

V.

It comes to this, dear Robert Burns,
The truth is old and a' that,
'The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.'
And though you'd put the self-same mark
On copper, brass, and a' that,
The lie is gross, the cheat is plain,
And will not pass for a' that.

VI.

For a' that and a' that,

'Tis soul and heart and a' that That makes the king a gentleman, And not his crown and a' that, And whether he be rich or poor, The best is he for a' that Who stands erect in self-respect, And acts the man for a' that.

CHARLES MACKAY.

HE'S THE MAN FOR A' THAT.

Is there for tenets Liberal
That hangs his head and a' that,
And thinks the de'il is in us all-
Bah! he's a fool for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

Perhaps he's right for a' that; But what's the odds, we've ta'en an oath To vote wi' Glad. for a' that.

What tho' he beaten ten times o'er is,
Cried down, despised and a' that,
By fools of Rads and knaves of Tories.
Why, he's the man for a' that.
For a' that and a' that,

Perhaps he's wrong for a' that;
But what's the odds if he mistake,
We're pledged to him for a' that.

Ye see yon members, Liberals ca'ed,
They fume and fret and a' that,

When asked to vote they hummed and ha'ed,
They've a just cause for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

They're honest perhaps for a' that;
But whoso hangs by Gladstone's tail
He scoffs at them for a' that.

Moonshine. May 8, 1886.

based upon it) in Volume III. (Part 26), but no mention was made of the fact that Campbell had borrowed the main idea from the foliowing old song by Martyn Parker:

YE gentlemen of England.

That live at home at ease,
Ah! little do you think upon
The dangers of the seas.
Give ear unto the mariners,
And they will plainly show
All the cares and the fears,

When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.

If enemies oppose us
When England is at war
With any foreign nation,

We fear not wound or scar;
Our roaring guns shall teach 'em
Our valour for to know,
Whilst they reel on the keel,

And the stormy winds do blow.
And the stormy, &c.

Then courage, all brave mariners,
And never be dismay'd,
Whilst we have bold adventurers,
We ne'er shall want a trade :
Our merchants will employ us
To fetch them wealth, we know ;
Then be bold-work for gold,
When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.

A RADICAL'S LAMENT.

JOE CHAMBERLAIN, my Joe,
"When we were first acquent,"
Your speech was like a Radical's,
With us your life was spent ;
But now you've sadly changed, Joe,
Your voice we hardly know,
While Tories have your sympathy,
Joe Chamberlain, my Joe.

(Two verses omitted.)

Joe Chamberlain, my Joe,

The right is on our side;
And we have gallant leaders, Joe,
All trusty, true, and tried.
And though you have deserted us
And gone to join the foe,

We mean to fight and conquer yet,
Joe Chamberlain, my Joe!

Joe Chamberlain, my Joe,

With us you climbed the hill;

And hand to hand we helped you up,

With Radical good-will.

Now, hand in hand with Salisbury,

You down again will go,

And you'll "sleep together at the foot,"
Joe Chamberlain, my Joe!

The Liberal Home Ruler. April 9, 1887.

Punch for June 21, 1879, contained a parody of this song relative to the Golden Wedding of the Emperor of Germany, and there were also political parodies of it in England for May 30, 1885, and the St. James's Gazette for March 19, 1886.

YE PUGILISTS OF ENGLAND.*
I.

YE Pugilists of England,

Who guard your native sod,

Whose pluck has braved a thousand years, Cross-buttock, blow, and blood,

Your corky canvas sport again,

To mill another foe,

As you spring, round the ring,

While the betters noisy grow;

While the banging rages loud and long, And the betters noisy grow.

II.

A Briton needs no poniards,

No bravos 'long his street

His trust is in a strong roped ring,

A square of twenty feet.

With one-twos from his horny fists,
He floors the coves below,

As they crash, on the grass,

When the betters noisy grow;

When the banging rages loud and long, And the betters noisy grow.

III.

The spirits of prime pugilists

Shall rise at every round; For the ring it was their field of fame, To them 'tis holy-ground.

Where Slack and mighty Belcher fell, Your manly hearts shall glow,

* Referring to a prize-fight between Randal and Martin,