MY PUGGY!
[A Correspondent writes to the Standard in praise of pugs, as the most useful household dogs to prevent burglaries.]
Who bears, despite a wrinkled skin,
A heart that's soft and warm within,
And hates a visitor like sin?—
My puggy!
Who has a little temper of
His own, and sports a winter cough,
And thinks himself a mighty toff?—
My puggy!
Whose voice, disturbing midnight rest,
Do wily house-breakers detest,
And move to some less guarded nest?—
My puggy's!
Who does not, like a stupid cat,
'Gainst burglars' boots rub himself flat,—
Soliciting a felon's pat?—
My puggy!
And when the burglar's body's half
Inside the sash, with doggish laugh,
Who masticates his nearest calf?—
My puggy!
Who owns a phiz (which I could hug),
That's called by stupid boys an ug-
ly sulky unattractive "mug?"—
My puggy!
Our old friend, Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM, has been sightseeing in the country. Being asked whether she had seen the Midgetts, she said, "Don't mention 'em, my dear! I've seen 'em, and felt 'em—thousands of 'em—they very nearly closed my eyes up."
THROUGH EVER-GREEN GLASSES.
["On the side of those poor men who constitute the Irish nation, with their few and disparaged leaders, we have found a consideration, a calmness, and a liberality of view, a disposition to interpret everything in the best sense, and to make every concession that could possibly bring harmony about."—Mr. Gladstone in Edinburgh.]
AIR—"The Wearing of the Green."
Ever-Green Statesman sings:—
Och, Erin dear, and did ye hear the cry that's going round?
The Home-Rule plant they would forbid to grow on Irish ground.
I had my doubts at one time, but more clearly I have seen
Since I took—in shamrock spectacles—to Wearing of the Green.
Chorus.
I'm Ever-Green myself, ye know, so take me by the hand,
And tell me how Ould Oireland is, and how our chances stand.
'Tis the most disthressful country, dear, that ever yet was seen;
But I'm sworn to right ye, darlint, now I'm Wearing of the Green!
With unsurpassed frivolity and cruelty, 'tis said,
That you, Mavourneen, wish to set your heel on Ulster's head.
If you, who under Orange foot so long time have been trod,
Would trample down your tyrants old, it would be passing odd.
Chorus.—I'm Ever-Green myself, ye know, &c.
When the law can stop your friends, my dear, from growing as they grow,
When the Tories stop my "flowing tide" from flowing as 'twill flow,
Then I will change the colour, dear, that in my specs is seen,
But until that day, please Heaven, I'll stick to Wearing of the Green.
Chorus.
I am Ever-Green myself as is your own dear Emerald Land,
And that is why the Green Isle's case I've learned to understand.
'Tis the most disthressful country, yours, that ever yet was seen;
But I'll right ye. Twig my glasses, dear! I'm Wearing of the Green!