NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.

XVI.

MARYLEBONE.

Mary Lebone

She gets no meat,

She never has anything

Nice to eat;

A supper fit

For a dog alone

Is all the fare

Of poor Mary Lebone.

She squats by the corner

Of Baker Street

And snuffs the air

So spicy and sweet

When the Bakers are baking

Their puddings and pies,

Their buns and their biscuits

And Banburies—

A tart for Jocelyn

A cake for Joan,

And nothing at all

For poor Mary Lebone!

XVII.

SCOTLAND YARD.

"How long's the Yard in Scotland?

Tell me that now, Mother."

"Six-and-thirty inches, Daughter,

Just like any other."

"O isn't it thirty-five, Mother?"

"No more than thirty-seven."

"Then the bonny lad that sold me plaid

Will never get to heaven."

Passenger. "I HEAR THEY'RE THINKING OF ELECTRIFYING THIS PART OF THE LINE."

Porter. "AY; THEY'RE ALLUS UP TO SOME DAFT GAME. THEY'LL BE ELECTRIFYING US NEXT."