AS DINER-OUT, an Irish Captain on half-pay, who has at his disposal a plentiful supply of small talk and table wit; does the agreeable to perfection; is a good laugher at stale jokes, and a capital retailer of new ones; never falls asleep at the repetition of a dull story, and always laughs in the right place. He has a variety of other qualifications too numerous for insertion in an advertisement.
NOTICE is hereby given, that a considerable portion of Civic Dignity, conjectured to be equal in quantity to a Winchester Measure, has been lost since the 9th of November, 1834. This in-valuable appendage is supposed to have been dropped from the person of an illustrious Mayor, during certain squabbles which took place in spite of common sense and common counsel. It is hoped it will be recovered by his successor, and any information respecting the same may be communicated to a HOBBLER, at the Mare's Nest in the Poultry.
LOST—by Nobody, in the neighbourhood of Nowhere, an article more easily conceived than described, known by the name of Nothing. The fortunate finder may keep it on paying the expenses of this Advertisement.
SEPTEMBER.—"Michaelmas Day"
| 1836.] | SEPTEMBER. | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| It pleased her jolly Majesty Queen Bess, | |||
| Stuffing, herself, a well-stuff'd goose to bless, | |||
| And ever since, in sage affairs of state, | |||
| The royal bird does still predominate;— | |||
| So modest merit proves of little use, | |||
| Unless at Court you "boo" to ev'ry goose. | |||
| M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. |
| D | Signs. | ||
| 1 | Now | ||
| 2 | farmers | "SHOOTING THE MOON." | matters |
| 3 | mind | Now, Mrs. Dove, my dearest love, | ⚹ ☉ ☋ ♂ ♄ |
| No longer let us jar; | |||
| 4 | your | Full well you know that cash is low, | ⚹ ♀ ⊕ |
| And credit's under par. | |||
| 5 | geese | ||
| Short commons are our common fare. | whereinto | ||
| 6 | and | No turtle-doves are we: | |
| Tho' once there came such lots of game, | he is | ||
| 7 | pigs, | Now folks make game of me. | |
| inquiring, | |||
| 8 | for | Ah! what to do I wish I knew, | |
| Or where to run a score! | |||
| 9 | Cockney | For all the town I've done so brown, | ♏ ♄ ☌ |
| I can't do any more. | |||
| 10 | sports- | ||
| We've had our fill on Mutton Hill; | is fearful of | ||
| 11 | men | In Cornhill gain'd our bread; | |
| Dress'd with an air in fam'd Cloth Fair; | stumbling. | ||
| 12 | run their | In Grub Street well were fed. | |
| 13 | rigs, | We got our shoes in Leather Lane; | ♀ ☍ ♑ ♌ ☋ |
| Our hats in Hatton Garden; | |||
| 14 | and | We'd quite a catch in Ha'penny Hatch, | For look, |
| And never paid a farden. | |||
| 15 | when | what dire | |
| We've chalked a score on every door | |||
| 16 | the | Of publican or sinner; | mishaps |
| And now can't meet a Newman Street, | |||
| 17 | cits | To trust us with a dinner. | do arise |
| 18 | are | And, lack-a day! here's Quarter Day; | |
| It always comes too soon; | |||
| 19 | taking | So we by night must take our flight, | ☉ ♀ |
| For we must shoot the moon! | |||
| 20 | aim, | ||
| from false | |||
| 21 | your | ||
| 22 | poultry | prophecying! | |
| 23 | may | ||
| 24 | mistake | ♂ ♄ ☉ ♈ | |
| 25 | for | ||
| The farmer | |||
| 26 | game, | ||
| 27 | and | ♉ ♂ | |
| 28 | kill | reapeth his | |
| 29 | or | corn, and | |
| 30 | lame. | ♉ ♄ ☉ ♊ ☌ | |
AN EPISTLE
From SIR JOHN NORTH to RIGDUM FUNNIDOS, Gent.