DRUNKEN POLITENESS. CENTRIC in London noise and London folly, Near this famed spot, upon a sober plan, He had apartments up two pair of stairs; From the Beau's Brutus to the parson's frizzle ;- Now, Isaac Shove living above this Dr. Crow,- Hearing so many knocks, single and double, Whereby his (Isaac's) visitors might know, And not to knock for Crow or Twizzle. Besides, he now began to feel The want of it was rather ungenteel ;- The bell was bought ;-the wire was made to steal Twisting and twining; The jemmy handle Twizzle's door-post graced ;- Lacquered and shining, Graven whereon, in characters full, clear, And, furthermore, which you might read right well, Alas! what pity 'tis, that regularity Like Isaac Shove's is such a rarity. But there are swilling wights in London town, These spendthrifts, who life's pleasures thus run out, One of this kidney-Toby Tosspot hight- He work'd with sinuosities along, Like Monsieur Corkscrew worming through a cork, Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong. a fork. At length, with near four bottles in his pate, He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate, And being civil beyond measure, Ring it!" says Toby-" very well, Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, He waited full two minutes more; and then Says Toby, "If he's deaf, I'm not to blame, But the first peal woke Isaac, in a fright; Pale as a parsnip,-bolt upright. At length, he wisely to himself doth say,- "Tush! 'tis some fool has rung and run away;" When peal the second rattled in his ears! Shove jump'd into the middle of the floor; And, trembling at each breath of air that stirr'd, He groped down stairs, and open'd the street door; While Toby was performing peal the third. Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant, And saw he was a strapper-stout and tall; Then put this question-"Pray, sir, what d'ye want?" Says Toby, "I want-want nothing, sir, at all.” “Want nothing, sir!-you've pull'd my bell, I vow, As if you'd jerk it off the wire." Quoth Toby,-gravely making him a bow,— "At mine!". Yes, yours; I hope I've done it well: COLMAN. HODGE AND THE VICAR. HODGE, a poor honest country lout, "Ah! master Hodge," the vicar cried, "We'll try your skill," the parson cried, For learning what digestion: "And this you'll prove or right or wrong, By solving me a question. Noah, of old, three babies had "Or grown-up children rather, Shem, Ham, and Japhet they were called: 'Now who was Japhet's father?” "Rat it !" cried Hodge, and scratched his head, That does my wits belabour; But howsomede'er, I'll homeward run, "And ax old Giles, my neighbour." To Giles he went and put the case, With circumspect intention; Thou fool," cried Giles, "I'll make it clear "To thy dull comprehension. "Three children has Tom Long, the smith, "Or cattle-doctor rather; "Tom, Dick, and Harry, they are called; "Now who is Harry's father?" "Adzooks, I have it," Hodge replied, 66 Right well I know your lingo; "Who's Harry's father?-stop-here goes, "Why Tom Long Smith, by jingo." Away he ran to find the priest, With all his might and main; Who with good humour instant put Noah, of old, three babies had, Or grown-up children rather, "I have it now," Hodge grinning cried, Who's Japhet's father? Now I know; ANON. LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. WHO has e'er been in London, that over-grown place, Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated; Next night 'twas the same! and the next! and the next! In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him; . The Doctor looked wise:- a slow fever," he said; |