A CHRISTMAS CAROL.—IN HONOUR OF MAGA. (BLACKWOOD.)
SUNG BY THE CONTRIBUTORS.
Noo—hearken till me—and I'll beat Matthews or Yates a' to sticks wi' my impersonations.
TICKLER.
When Kit North is dead,
What will Maga do, sir?
She must go to bed,
And like him die too, sir!
Fal de ral, de ral,
Iram coram dago;
Fal de ral, de ral,
Here's success to Maga.
SHEPHERD.
When death has them flat,
I'll stitch on my weepers,
Put crape around my bat,
And a napkin to my peepers!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
NORTH.
Your words go to my heart,
I hear the death-owl flying,
I feel death's fatal dart—
By jingo, I am dying!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
COLONEL O'SHAUGHNESSY.
See him, how he lies
Flat as any flounder!
Blow me! smoke his eyes—
Death ne'er closed eyes sounder!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
DELTA.
Yet he can't be dead,
For he is immortal,
And to receive his head
Earth would not ope its portal!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
O'DOHERTY.
Kit will never die;
That I take for sartain!
Death "is all my eye"—
An't it, Betty Martin?
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
MODERN PYTHAGOREAN.
Suppose we feel his arm—
Zounds' I never felt a
Human pulse more firm:
What's your opinion, Delta?
Fal de ral, de ral, &c
CHARLES LAMB.
Kit, I hope you're well,
Up, and join our ditty;
To lose such a fine old fel-
Low would be a pity!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
NORTH.
Let's resume our booze,
And tipple while we're able;
I've had a bit of a snooze,
And feel quite comfortable!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
MULLION.
Be he who he may,
Sultan, Czar, or Aga,
Let him soak his clay
To the health of Kit and Maga!
Fal de ral, de ral, &c.
OPIUM-EATER.
Search all the world around,
From Greenland to Malaga,
And nowhere will be found
A magazine like Maga!
Fal de ral, de ral,
Iram coram dago;
Fal de ral, de ral,
Here's success to Maga!