AIL! seventy-four cut down! Hail, Top and Lop!
Unless I’m much mistaken in my notion,
Thou wast a stirring Tar, before that hop
Became so fatal to thy locomotion;—
Now, thrown on shore, like a mere weed of ocean,
Thou readest still to men a lesson good,
To King and Country showing thy devotion,
By kneeling thus upon a stump of wood!
Still is thy spirit strong as alcohol;
Spite of that limb, begot of acorn-egg,—
Methinks,—thou Naval History in one Vol.—
A virtue shines, e’en in that timber leg,
For unlike others that desert their Poll,
Thou walkest ever with thy “Constant Peg!”
TO LORD WHARNCLIFFE, ON HIS GAME-BILL.
I’m fond of partridges, I’m fond of snipes,
I’m fond of black cocks, for they’re very good cocks—
I’m fond of wild ducks, and I’m fond of woodcocks—
And grouse that set up such strange moorish pipes.
I’m fond of pheasants with their splendid stripes—
I’m fond of hares, whether from Whig or Tory—
I’m fond of capercailzies in their glory,—
Teal, widgeons, plovers, birds in all their types:
All these are in your care, Law-giving Peer,
And when you next address your Lordly Babel,
Some clause put in your Bill, precise and clear,
With due and fit provision to enable
A man that holds all kinds of game so dear
To keep, like Crockford, a good Gaming Table.
THE TOP OF HIS PROFESSION.
JOINING IN A CATCH.