GOTHAM-MITES.
I like such Brooks," said Falstaff once;
Had he meant ours he'd been a dunce;
The devil, whom all things evil please,
Could never stand such Bruoks as these.
In the Tyrol on mountain high
"The Devil's Marble" you may spy;
And if in the World you long remain,
You'll probably meet the same again.
Och, Johnny, my gun—let the truth be aid,
What the divil made ye turn Copperhid?
Sure it was hivvy what ye bore,
Wid the brass in your face yees had before.
There's a song how Old Nick took a journey,
With a corporation attorney;
But there is one fouler, whom even the old prowler
Would fear as a friend on a journey.