But if she must ave a sweet-art
(Vich most every gurl expex),
Let her take a jolly Pleaseman,
Vich is name peraps is—X.
LINES ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT.
[Footnote: The Birth of Prince Arthur]
BY A GENTLEMAN OF THE FOOT-GUARDS (BLUE).
W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
I paced upon my beat
With steady step and slow,
All huppandownd of Ranelagh-street;
Ran'lagh, St. Pimlico.
While marching huppandownd
Upon that fair May morn,
Beold the booming cannings sound,
A royal child is born!
The Ministers of State
Then presnly I sor,
They gallops to the Pallis gate,
In carridges and for.
With anxious looks intent,
Before the gate they stop,
There comes the good Lord President,
And there the Archbishopp.
Lord John he next elights;
And who comes here in haste?
'Tis the ero of one underd fights,
The caudle for to taste.
Then Mrs. Lily, the nuss,
Toward them steps with joy;
Say the brave old Duke, "Come tell to us
Is it a gal or a boy?"
Says Mrs. L. to the Duke,
"Your Grace, it is a PRINCE."
And at that nuss's bold rebuke,
He did both laugh and wince.
He vews with pleasant look
This pooty flower of May,
Then says the wenerable Duke,
"Egad, its my buthday."