lad,
So bring me a quart an' a glass!

Come, Sally, an' sit bi mi side,
We've hed both wur ups an' wur dahns;
Awm fane at aw made thee mi bride,
An' awm prahd o' both thee an' wur barns.

We're as happy as them 'at's more brass,
In a festival holly-decked hall;
We envy no mortal, owd lass;
Here's peace an' good-will unto all!

An' may ev'ry poor crater to neet,
If nivver before in his life,
Hev plenty to drink an' to eyt,
Fer both him, an' his barns, an' his wife.

Lines on the Late
MR. THOMAS CRAVEN.

Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust--
The friend we had but yesterday;
His spirit to the unknown land
Hath fled away.

Ah! death's strong key hath turned the lock,
And closed again its ponderous door,
That ne'er for him shall ope again--
Ah, nevermore!

Now pity swells the tide of love,
And rolls through all our bosoms deep,
For we have lost a friend indeed;
And thus we weep.

. . . . . . .

'Twas his to learn in Nature's school
To love his fellow-creatures dear;
His bounty fed the starving poor
From year to year.

But thou, pale moon, unclouded beam,
And O! ye stars, shine doubly bright,
And light him safe across the lake
To endless light!

Gooise an' Giblet Pie.

A Kersmas song I'll sing, mi lads,
If ye'll bud hearken me;
An incident i' Kersmas time,
I' eighteen sixty-three;
Whithaht a stypher i' the world--
I'd scorn to tell a lie--
I dined wi a gentleman
O' gooise an' giblet pie.

I've been i' lots o' feeds, mi lads,
An' hed some rare tucks-aght;
Blood-puddin days with killin' pigs,
Minch pies an' thumpin' tarts;
But I wired in, an' reight an' all,
An' supp'd when I wor dry,
Fer I wor dinin' wi' a gentleman
O' gooise an' giblet pie.

I hardly knew what ail'd ma, lads,
I felt so fearful prahd;
Mi ears pricked up, mi collar rahse,
T'ards a hawf-a-yard;
Mi chest stood aght, mi charley in,
Like horns stuck aght mi tie;
Fer I dined wi' a gentleman
O' gooise an' giblet pie.

I often think o' t'feed, mi lads,
When t' gentleman I meet;
Bud nauther on us speiks a word
Abaht that glorious neet;
In fact, I hardly can misel,
I feel so fearful shy;
Fer I ate a deal o' t'rosted gooise,
An' warm'd his giblet pie.

The Grand Old Man.

I sing of a statesman, a statesman of worth,
The grandest old states