Horace Smith, The Tin Trumpet.
OGUES meet their due when out they fall,
And each the other blames, sir,
The pot should not the kettle call
Opprobrious sorts of names, sir.
Lord Neaves, Songs and Verses.
HAVE nothing to say again' Craig, on'y it is a pity he couldna be hatched o'er again, an' hatched different.
Mrs. Poyser, in George Eliot's Adam Bede.
ET us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.