Twas here that the urchins would gather to play In the shadows of twilight or sunny mid-day; For the stream running nigh, and the hillocks of sand, [stand ;Were temptations no dirt-loving rogue could withBut to swing on the gate-rails, to clamber and ride, Was the utmost of pleasure, of glory, and pride; And the car of the victor, or carriage of state, Never carried such hearts as the Old Farm-Gate. 'Twas over that gate I taught Pincher to bound With the strength of a steed and the grace of a hound:

The beagle might hunt, and the spaniel might swim, But none could leap over the postern like him. When Dobbin was saddled for mirth-making trip, And the quickly pull'd willow-branch serv'd for a whip, [freight,

Spite of lugging and tugging, he'd stand for his While I climb'd on his back from the Old FarmGate.

Now pensively leaning, now twirling his stick, While the moments grew long and his heart-throbs grew quick.

Why, why did he linger so restlessly there, [hair?
With church-going vestment and sprucely comb'd
He lov'd, O! he lov'd, and had promis'd to wait
For the one he ador'd, at the Old Farm-Gate.
O! fair is the barrier taking its place,
But it darkens a picture my soul lov'd to trace ;-
I sigh to behold the rough staple and hasp,
And the rails, that my growing hand scarcely could

clasp.

O! how strangely the warm spirit grudges to part With the commonest relic once link'd to the heart! And the brightest of fortune, the kindliest fate, Would not banish my love for the Old Farm-Gate!

bells are call-ing,

shepherd led

Lively.

6

bro-ther was real-ly as rich as a Jew. No creditor e'er went away from their door, Till death called on Moses to settle his score: No mortal can ever evade such a call, So Moses he sleeps, sirs, his last sleep of all. Tol lol, &c. Then Isaac, his brother, exclaimed,-- Lucky elf! All his goots and his money belong to myself. Ah! but stop-dere's a will, I must just read it thro', To see what poor Moses would have me to do.' Tol lol, &c. The will it thus ran :-'When I cease to live, All my cash and my goots to my brother I give, Upon this condition, that hard he shall toil To bury my body in real English soil.'

Tol lol, &c. Isaac tried every captain and could not prevail, For none would agree with the body to sail; But, not to be balk'd, he set quietly to work, And embarked it at last as a barrel of pork.

Tol lol, &c. Mo was cut to pieces with chopper and knife— He had never been cut up so much in his life ;Isaac wrote to his agent to tell him his plan, And begg'd him to bury the poor pickled man. Tol lol, &c. Some months after this, as he walk'd on the wharf, He met with the captain, a sallow-faced man :'Vell, goot captain,' he cried, looking steadfastly round,

'You delivered my parrel, I hope, safe and sound.

Tol de rol, rol de rol, lol de rol lol. Said the captain, Friend Isaac, I'm sorry to say That during our trip we were near cast away: When in sight of old England we lay a sheer hulk, And, provisions being scarce, we were forc'd to break bulk.' Tol lol, &c.

'Break bulk !' roared out Isaac, 'you're worse than a Turk!

But surely you ne'er broke my parrel of pork?' 'Indeed, but we did,' cried the captain; don't huff For I'll pay you a good price, though it was devilish tough!' Tol lol, &c.

'Ah! mine Got!' cried poor Isaae, 'as I am a sinner, You have eat my poor prober Moses for dinner.' "Your brother? Why, zounds! then myself and the

crew

Have feasted three days on a piece of tough Jew!' Tol lol, &c.

'But come now, friend Isaac, to finish this work, I'll pay for your brother as though he was pork.' 'No, no,' replied Isaac: 'tho' we cheat one another, Our law won't permit us to sell our own brother." Tol lol, &e.

In his purse the captain was putting his gold, Which Isaac espying, cried, 'Goot captain, hold! Though I can't touch de cash for dat proder of mine, You can pay me, you know, for de parrel and prine.' Tol lol, &c.

Tol lol, &c.

Up, up

We'll be happy, if

in safety we've

2

find,

Land, land, ho! all

again, boys, to

never again, boys, to-night! We'll The signal is waving!-Till morn we remain, Then part in the hope to meet one day again, Round the hearth-stone of home, in the land of our birth,

The holiest spot on the face of the earth!

Dear conntry, our thoughts are as constant to thee As the steel to the star, or the stream to the sea; Ho! land, and, ho! we near it, we bound at the sight!

We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night!

be happy for once, boys, tonight!
The signal is answer'd !-The foam-sparkles rise
Like tears from the fountain of joy to the eyes;-
May rain-drops that fall from the storm-clouds of

care

Melt away in the sun-beaming smiles of the fair! One health, as chime gayly the nautical oells,'To woman-God bless her! wherever she dwells!' Ho! the pilot's on board, and, thank Heaven, all's right!

We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night!

sings, and hacks, and hews, sings,
Perhaps, now fell'd by this bold man,
That tree shall form the spruce sedan,
Or wheel-barrow, where oyster Nan
So runs her vulgar rig;
The stage where boxers crowd in flocks,
Or else a quack's, perhaps the stocks,
Or posts for signs, or barbers' blocks,

Where smiles the parson's wig.

Thou mak'st, bold peasant,-O! what grief!
The gibbet, on which hangs the thief;
The seat where sits the grave lord chief;
The throne, the cobbler's stall:

Thou pamper'st life in every stage,
Mak'st folly's whims, pride's equipage,
For children toys, crutches for age,
And coffins for us all

Yet justice let us still afford;-
These chairs and this convivial board,
The bin that holds gay Bacchus' hoard,
Confess the woodman's stroke:
He made the press that bled the vine,
The butt that holds the generous wine,
The hall itself where tipplers join

To crack the mirthful joke.