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IV

Mother beside the fire

Sat, her nightcap in; Father, in easy chair,

Gloomily napping, When at the window-sill

Came a light tapping!

V

And a pale countenance

Looked through the casement. Loud beat the mother's heart,

Sick with amazement, And at the vision which

Came to surprise her, Shrieked in an agony

“Lor! it's Elizar!"

VI

Yes, 't was Elizabeth

Yes, 't was their girl;
Pale was her cheek, and her

Hair out of curl.
“Mother!” the loving one,

Blushing, exclaimed, “Let not your innocent

Lizzy be blamed.

VII

Yesterday, going to aunt

Jones's to tea, Mother, dear mother, I Forgot the door-key!

And as the night was cold,

And the way steep,
Mrs. Jones kept me to

Breakfast and sleep.”

VIII

Whether her Pa and Ma

Fully believed her,
That we shall never know,

Stern they received her;
And for the work of that

Cruel, though short, night,
Sent her to bed without

Tea for a fortnight.

IX

MORAL

Hey diddle diddlety,

Cat and the Fiddlety, Maidens of England take caution by she!

Let love and suicide

Never tempt you aside, And always remember to take the door-key. LYRA HIBERNICA

THE POEMS OF THE MOLONY OF KILBALLY MOLONY

LYRA HIBERNICA

THE POEMS OF THE MOLONY OF KILBALLY MOLONY

THE PIMLICO PAVILION

Y.

E pathrons of janius, Minerva and Vanius,

Who sit on Parnassus, that mountain of snow, Descind from your station and make observation

Of the Prince's pavilion in sweet Pimlico.

This garden, by jakurs, is forty poor acres,

(The garner he tould me, and sure ought to know ;) And yet greatly bigger, in size and in figure,

Than the Phanix itself, seems the Park Pimlico.

O 't is there that the spoort is, when the Queen and the

Court is
Walking magnanimous all of a row,
Forgetful what state is among the pataties

And the pine-apple gardens of sweet Pimlico.

There in blossoms odorous the birds sing a chorus,

Of“ God save the Queen ” as they hop to and fro; And you sit on the binches and hark to the finches,

Singing melodious in sweet Pimlico.

There shuiting their phanthasies, they pluck polyanthuses

That round in the gardens resplindently grow, Wid roses and jessimins, and other sweet specimins, Would charm bould Linnayus in sweet Pimlico.

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