MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL. MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL This Gineral great then tuck his sate, With all the other ginerals, (Bedad, his troat, his belt, his coat, All bleezed with precious minerals ;) GIVEN TO THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR BY THE And as he there, with princely air, PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY. O WILL ye choose to hear the news? To the Naypaulase Ambassador. Begor! this fete all balls does bate At which I worn a pump, and I Must here relate the splendthor great Of th' Oriental Company. These men of sinse dispoised expinse, "We'll show the blacks," says they, "Almack's, And take the rooms at Willis's.' They hung the rooms of Willis up, And Jullien's band it tuck its stand, So sweetly in the middle there, And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes, And violins did fiddle there. And when the Coort was tired of spoort, I'd lave you, boys, to think there was A nate buffet before them set, Where lashins of good dhrink there was! At ten, before the ball-room door His moighty Excellency was; He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd- The noble Chair stud at the stair, Recloinin on his cushion was, All round about his royal chair The squeezin and the pushin was. O Pat, such girls, such Jukes and Earls, Just think of Tim, and fancy him 439 There was Lord De L'Huys, and the Portygeese Ministher and his lady there; And I reckonized, with much surprise, Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there; There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like Juno, And Baroness Rehausen there, And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar Well in her robes of gauze, in there. There was Lord Crowhurst (I knew him first When only Mr. Pips he was), And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool, That after supper tipsy was. There was Lord Fingall and his ladies all, I wondther how he could stuff her in. And seemed to ask how should I go there? And the Widow Macrae, and Lord A. Hay, And the Marchioness of Sligo there. Yes, Jukes and Earls, and diamonds and pearls, And pretty girls, was spoorting there; And some beside (the rogues!) I spied Behind the windies, coorting there. And bade the dthrums to thump; and he O, there's one I know, bedad, would show Did thus evince to that Black Prince The welcome of his Company. O fair the girls, and rich the curls, And bright the oys you saw there, was; And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi, On Gineral Jung Bahawther was! As beautiful as any there; And I'd like to hear the pipers blow, TWENTY-EIGHT AND TWENTY-NINE. I HEARD a sick man's dying sigh, The Old Year went with mourning by— Let Revelry hold her ladle; Fling roses on the cradle; And a health to Twenty-nine! Alas for human happiness! Alas for human sorrow! What else will be our morrow? And wits by making verses; The same stars set and shine; And the world, as it rolled through Twenty-eight, Must roll through Twenty-nine. Some king will come, in heaven's good time, To the tomb his father came to; Some thief will wade through blood and crime To a crown he has no claim to; Some suffering land will rend in twain The manacles that bound her, And gather the links of the broken chain To fasten them proudly round her; The grand and great will love and hate, And combat and combine; And much where we were in Twentyeight, We shall be in Twenty-nine. O'Connell will toil to raise the Rent, And Kenyon to sink the Nation; And Shiel will abuse the Parliament, And Peel the Association; And thought of bayonets and swords On the Cabinet's design; And just what it did in Twenty-eight And the goddess of Love will keep her smiles, And the god of Cups his orgies; And weddings in St. George's; And rings will lead to black eyes; Alas! they married in Twenty-eight, They will part in Twenty-nine. My uncle will swathe his gouty limbs, And rather longer rubbers; How utterly ruined trade is; 'T will be redder in Twenty-nine. And O! I shall find how, day by day, Sworn foe to Lady Reason, And seldom troubled with the spleen, I shall buckle my skate, and leap my gate, I shall worship in Twenty-nine. WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. Gineral C. goes in fer the war; He don't vally principle more 'n an old cud; Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood? So John P. Sez he shall vote fer Gineral O. We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; An' thet all this big talk of our destinies Robinson he Sez it aint no sech thing; an', of course, so must we. Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut An' marched round in front of a drum an' a aint, We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage, An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint; But John P. Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee. The side of our country must ollers be took, An' President Polk, you know, he is our country; An' the angel thet writes all our sins in a book Puts the debit to him, an' to us per con try; An' John P. Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. |