And could I screw But tu pound tu, 'Tis I would thrait you to it! So let us raise And Albert's proud condition, That takes his ayse As he surveys This Cristial Exhibition. 1851. MOLONY'S LAMENT. O TIм, did you hear of thim Saxons, And shut up the Castle and Coort! They're bint, the blagyards, to desthroy, "Twas he was our proide and our joy! And will we no longer behould him, Surrounding his carriage in throngs, As he weaves his cocked-hat from the windies, I liked for to see the young haroes, All shoining with sthripes and with stars, A horsing about in the Phaynix, And winking the girls in the cyars, Like Mars, A smokin' their poipes and cigyars. Dear Mitchell exoiled to Bermudies, Acrass the Atlantical wave, That the last of the Oirish Liftinints peepers, Of the oisland of Seents has tuck lave. The Queen-she should betther behave. And what's to become of poor Dame Sthreet, When the deuce of a Coort there remains ? It's thus that ould Erin complains! There's Counsellor Flanagan's leedy, 'Twas she in the Coort didn't fail, And she wanted a plinty of popplin, For her dthress, and her flounce, and her tail; She bought it of Misthress O'Grady, Eight shillings a yard tabinet, But now that the Coort is concluded, Bedad, that she wears the old set. There's Surgeon O'Toole and Miss Leary, When Spring, with its buds and its dasies, They'd choose the expense to ashume. There's Alderman Toad and his lady, 'Twas they gave the Clart and the Poort, And the poine-apples, turbots, and lobsters, To feast the Lord Liftinint's Coort. But now that the quality's goin, I warnt that the aiting will stop, And you'll get at the Alderman's teeble Or chop, And the butcher may shut up his shop. Yes, the grooms and the ushers are goin, And his Lordship, the dear honest man, And the Duchess, his eemiable leedy, And Corry, the bould Connellan, And little Lord Hyde and the childthren, And the Chewter and Governess tu; And the servants are packing their boxes,Oh, murther, but what shall I due Without you? O Meery, with oi's of the blue! MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL GIVEN TO THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR BY THE PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY. O WILL ye choose to hear the news, Bedad I cannot pass it o'er : I'll tell you all about the Ball To the Naypaulase Ambassador. These men of sinse, dispoised expinse, To fête these black Achilleses. "We'll show the blacks," says they, "Almack's, And take the rooms at Willis's." With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls, They hung the rooms of Willis up, And Jullien's band it tuck its stand, So sweetly in the middle there, |