Mister Twight, though his eyes were bad,

A nose so keen and sharp had got,
In less than no time at all' egad!
He smelt out what was what,
And soon gave her to understand,
By piously talking of wedlock's band,
Sigh'd, and groan'd, and squeez'd her hand-
În the dark.

A month from the time her hnsband died,
At living alone so much she sigh'd,
She went to church and was fairly tied-
To the parson's clerk!

Ere the honey-moon had flown,

His manners somehow seem'd so strange,He dress'd quite spruce, left her alone, Astonish'd at the change.

From righteous path he turned astray.
And even on the Sabbath day

Druved himself in a one-horse-shay-
In the park.
And all the week-I don't know how,
At singing glees he made a row,
And got as drunk as 'Davy's sow'-

Did the parson's clerk!

Only a short time after that,

These revels turn'd to grief and care;
He was took by a man, with large cock'd hat,
Before the great Lord Mayor.
Charges against him, not a few,
For being in love and being untrue,
And children sworn, a dozen or two-
Fair and dark.

And when at the truth they did arrive-
To show what a rare game he did drive-
He'd three wives besides, and all alive-
Had this parson's clerk!
Committed to Newgate's dreary cell-
Proof of guilt beyond all doubt-
He served three years in Clerkenwell,
And then, quite fresh, came out.
His wives were gone-he knew not where,
And, what was more, he did not care;
He wanted a trade-the wind was fair-
To embark.

For gospel grace his bowels yearn'd,
He had a call, and it was not spurn'd,
And now a methodist parson turn'd—
Is this parson's clerk!

I blow with the Naiads the zephyr light,

Or storm the wide waters in wild affright;

I

go with the bark to a distant land,

And return with the home-bound happy band;

I mark the patriot's gladdening eye,

As the ship sails on so gallantly.

I pilot the vessel through dangerous seas,
And unfurl the sails to the wafting breeze ;
I convey it home, and the friendly band
On their country's shore once more I land;
And to join my fellows I hasten away,
Skimming swiftly as light to illume the day.
I encounter the storm as I pass along;

I laugh at its thunders, and mock with my song;
The lightnings play harmless on heaving waves,

Whose voice as the voice of the madman raves;
And the howl of the waters is music there,
Tho' 'tis music that charms not the spirits of air.
With the pride of Armada I sport across
The boundless sea, and its surges toss;

I drink with its king in his rocky cave,
Where my throne is made of the crystal wave;
And, as night comes on, I sport with the moon,-
On the breast of a billow I reach her soon.
In the sea's vast hall my repose I take.
And with morn's first bow to the sun I wake,
Sportive again on the briny wave,

And dancing with sea-nymphs, loud Eolus brave
Endless my days, and eternal my bliss,--
Can the children of earth ever equal this?