Methought that the Draper and Hatter filed in,
Along with the Grocer, his nearest of kin;
And I caught the Co-oper just in the neck,
In his hand were his divi. and new silver check.
Methought as I walked I sprang up so high,
That I really found out I was able to fly;
So backwards and forwards methought that I flew,
To the clubs of the town which I found were all Blue.
Till somehow or other, I got quite astray,
And over Cliffe Castle I wingéd my way,
Thinks I, there’s some Foreign “So be I” geese
Have crossed o’er the Channel from Paris or Nice.
From thence I took wing, as blithe as a lark,
And crossed o’er the town to Jim Collingham’s Park;
But ere I arrived at the end of my route,
A lightning conductor caught the tail of my coat.
I hung there suspended high up in the air,
Looking down on the mob in the wildest despair,
Imploring the “So be I’s” to get me relief;
But they shouted “Stop there, you Liberal thief!”
I called on the de’il and invoked the skies,
To curse and set fire to all “So be I’s;”
When all of a sudden I scratched at my head,
Awoke from my dream—found myself snug in bed.
Shoo’s Deead an’ Goan.
My poor owd lass, an art ta goan,
To thy long rest?
An’ mun the cruel cold grave-stone
Close ower thy breast?
An’ art ta goan no more to see,
Exceptin’ i’ fond memory?
Yes, empty echo answers me—
“Shoe’s deead an’ goan!”
I’ vain the wafters o’ the breeze
Fan my hot brah,
I’ vain the birds upon the trees,
Sing sweetly nah;
I’ vain the early rose-bud blaws,
I’ vain wide Nature shows her cause,
Deeath thunders fro his greedy jaws—
“Shoe’s deead an’ goan!”