We scarcely expect a monument to be raised to PUNCH for these discoveries; though if we had our deserts—but verbum sap.
SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.—No. 13.
Yes! we have said the word adieu!
A blight has fallen on my soul!
And bliss, that angels never knew,
Is torn from me, by fate’s control!
And yet the tear I shed at parting,
Was “all my eye and Betty Martin!”