I'D BE A PARODY.

I'd be a Parody, made by a ninny

On some little song with a popular tune,

Not worth a halfpenny, sold for a guinea,

And sung in the Strand by the light of the moon.

I'd never sigh for the sense of a Pliny,

(Who cares for sense at St. James's in June?)

I'd be a Parody, made by a ninny,

And sung in the Strand by the light of the moon.

Oh! could I pick tip a thought or a stanza,

I'd take a flight on another bard's wings,

Turning his rhymes into extravaganza,

Laugh at his harp—and then pilfer its strings!

When a poll-parrot can croak the cadenza

A nightingale loves, he supposes he sings!

Oh, never mind, I will pick up a stanza,

Laugh at his harp—and then pilfer its strings!

What though you tell me each metrical puppy

Might make of such parodies two pair a day;

Mocking birds think they obtain for each copy

Paradise plumes for the parodied lay:—

Ladder of fame! if man can't reach thy top, he

Is right to sing just as high up as he may;

I'd be a Parody, made by a puppy,

Who makes of such parodies two pair a day!

Sharpe's Magazine.