THE LAST IRISH GRIEVANCE

ON reading of the general indignation occasioned in Ireland by the appointment of a Scotch Professor to one of HER MAJESTY'S Godless Colleges, MASTER MOLLOY MOLONY, brother of THADDEUS MOLONY, Esq., of the Temple, a youth only fifteen years of age, dashed off the following spirited lines:

A

SI think of the insult that's done to this nation,
Red tears of rivinge from me faytures I wash,
And uphold in this pome, to the world's daytis-
tation,

The sleeves that appointed PROFESSOR M'COSH.

I look round me counthree, renowned by exparience,
And see midst her childthren, the witty, the wise, —
Whole hayps of logicians, potes, schollars, grammarians,
All ayger for pleeces, all panting to rise;

I gaze round the world in its utmost diminsion;
LARD JAHN and his minions in Council I ask,
Was there ever a Government-pleece (with a pinsion)
But children of Erin were fit for that task?

What, Erin beloved, is thy fetal condition?

What shame in aych boosom must rankle and burrun, To think that our countree has ne'er a logician In the hour of her deenger will surrev her turrun!

On the logic of Saxons there 's little reliance,

And, rather from Saxons than gather its rules, I'd stamp under feet the base book of his science, And spit on his chair as he taught in the schools!

O false SIR JOHN KANE! is it thus that you praych me?
I think all your Queen's Universitees Bosh;
And if you've no neetive Professor to taych me,

I scawurn to be learned by the Saxon M'COSH.

There's WISEMAN and CHUME, and His Grace the Lord Primate,

That sinds round the box, and the world will sub

scribe;

'Tis they'll build a College that's fit for our climate, And taych me the saycrets I burn to imboibe!

'Tis there as a Student of Science I 'll enther,

Fair Fountain of Knowledge, of Joy, and Contint! SAINT PATHRICK'S Sweet Statue shall stand in the centher, And wink his dear oi every day during Lint.

And good DOCTOR NEWMAN, that praycher unwary, 'Tis he shall preside the Academee School,

And quit the gay robe of ST. PHILIP of Neri,

To wield the soft rod of ST. LAWRENCE O'TOOLE!

THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X

THE WOFLE NEW BALLAD OF JANE RONEY AND MARY BROWN

A

N igstrawnary tail I vill tell you this veek-
I stood in the Court of A'Beckett the Beak,
Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see,

Who charged Mary Brown with a robbin of she.

This Mary was pore and in misery once,

And she came to Mrs. Roney it's more than twelve

monce.

She ad n't got no bed, nor no dinner nor no tea,

And kind Mrs. Roney gave Mary all three.

Mrs. Roney kep Mary for ever so many veeks,
(Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax,)
She kep her for nothink, as kind as could be,
Never thinkin that this Mary was a traitor to she.

"Mrs. Roney, O Mrs. Roney, I feel very ill;

Will you just step to the Doctor's for to fetch me a pill?"

"That I will, my pore Mary," Mrs. Roney says she; And she goes off to the Doctor's as quickly as may be.

No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney was sped,
Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed;
She hopens all the trunks without never a key-
She bustes all the boxes, and vith them makes free.

Mrs. Roney's best linning, gownds, petticoats, and close, Her children's little coats and things, her boots, and her

hose,

She packed them, and she stole 'em, and avay vith them did flee.

Mrs. Roney's situation - you may think vat it vould be!

Of Mary, ungrateful, who had served her this vay,
Mrs. Roney heard nothink for a long year and a day.
Till last Thursday, in Lambeth, ven whom should she

see

But this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to she?

She was leaning on the helbo of a worthy young man, They were going to be married, and were walkin hand in hand;

And the Church bells was a ringing for Mary and he, And the parson was ready, and a waitin for his fee.

When up comes Mrs. Roney, and faces Mary Brown,
Who trembles, and castes her eyes upon the ground.
She calls a jolly pleaseman, it happens to be me;
I charge this young woman, Mr. Pleaseman, says she.

"Mrs. Roney, o, Mrs. Roney, o, do let me go, I acted most ungrateful I own, and I know,

But the marriage bell is a ringin, and the ring you may

see,

And this young man is a waitin," says Mary says she.

"I don't care three fardens for the parson and clark, And the bell may keep ringin from noon day to dark. Mary Brown, Mary Brown, you must come along with

me;

And I think this young man is lucky to be free."

So, in spite of the tears which bejew'd Mary's cheek,
I took that young gurl to A'Beckett the Beak;
That exlent Justice demanded her plea —
But never a sullable said Mary said she.

On account of her conduck so base and so vile,
That wicked young gurl is committed for trile,
And if she's transpawted beyond the salt sea,
It's a proper reward for such willians as she.

Now you young gurls of Southwark for Mary who veep
From pickin and stealin your ands you must keep,
Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday veek,
To pull you all hup to A'Beckett the Beak.