Plagued out of her life, ah, what could she do,
She collected of cats fifteen,

And went to bed with them all in her view,
There was black, white, and tabby and tortoise-shell
too

With their gooseberry eyes so green.

But the candle was scarcely out,

They made such a confounded rout,
Seizing the victuals, and tearing,
Clawing, and spitting, and swearing,
Broke cups, plates, and dishes, all her store,
Lapp'd the cream up, and mollrow'd for more,
Which was shocking bad manners you'll say,
Alas and alack-a-day,

A curious moral I make, &c. &c.

They made such a noise, she awoke with affright,
Not dreaming the cause of the din,

Groped out her tinder-box, and then struck a light,
And the very first object that came in her sight,
Was-her bottle broke, and spilt all her gin.
She look'd in the cupboard in despair,
But the devil of any thing was there;
Except plates and dishes, broken small,
Cups, saucers, and cream jug, and all;
Each cat look'd as savage as a cur,
As if he could easy swallow her,

Which was shocking bad manners you'll say,
poor old woman ran away.

So the

A curious moral I make,

Listen great and small,

Better have some crumbs for the mice to take,

Than to have no crumbs at all.

THE THREE FLIES.

THERE were three flies once on a time
Resolved to travel and change their clime,
For they neither cared for father nor mother,
For uncle, nor aunt, nor sister, nor brother.
The first was a yellow one, the second was blue,
And the third was a green one to the view;
So off they set with their merry hums,
And told their parents to kiss their bums.
But they too saucy were, by half;

1 can't sing if you do laugh,

So shut your mouths, and list to me,
Tiddle, liddle, lol, and tiddle, liddle, lee,
And take a lesson from a fly,

Don't give way to lux-u-ry.

They had not got far when the yellow one cries,
Look down, my boys, a dinner I spies;

But the bluebottle answer'd, upon my word,
I sees nothing but a large cow clod,
A cow clod, well, there's good in that;
I'm sure it look's monstratious fat;
And I wish as how I may go to davy,
If I don't have some of that rich gravy.
But the others too dainty were by half;
I can't sing if you do laugh, &c. &c.

Away then flew the other two,
Jacky Green and Tommy Blue;
They flow'd on fast, and did not stop,

Till they came opposite to a butcher's shop.
"Oh, oh," says the bluebottle, "here's a treat;
"I'm particularly fond of butcher's meat."
Says 'tother, says he," Then off I go,
"For I don't care for meat, you know."
But he too dainty was by half, &c. &c.

Far off then by himself he flow'd,
And into a grocer's shop he goed;
And there he play'd some saucy rigs,

For he danc'd among the sugar, and the plumbs, and the figs.

The day being hot, he took a whim,

And thought in some treacle he should like to swim ;
So without considering consequences in he goes.
And didn't even stop to take off his cloathes,
But the treacle he found too thick by half, &c. &c.

The other two pass'd by the door,
And heard a voice they'd heard before;
So nearer to the sound they got,
Till they 'lighted on the treacle pot.
There they saw him almost dead,
And thus to him the bluebottle said,
"O Greeny, all our powers can't save ye,
You'd better have had our beef and gravy,"
But you too dainty was by half, &c. &c.

MORAL.

Now all young men inclined to roam,
Take my advice, and stay at home,
And be your fortunes dry or wet,
Be content with what you get.
And 'bout trifles make no fuss,
Farther on you may fare worse,

And mayhap when a great way off you've got,
Like that poor fly you'll go to pot.

For he too dainty was by half, &c. &c.

THE MISFORTUNE OF BUYING TRIPE ON A FRIDAY.

RECITATIVE.

I've often heard my poor old granny say,
That Friday is a most uulucky day;

And as a proof that she poor soul wasn't wrong,
Listen! listen to this doleful

SONG.

OLD Mrs. Snipe was fond of tripe,
And no poor soul could be thinner,
In Sunday cloathes to market she goes,
One Friday for her dinner;
And as she went along so gay,
She met old neighbour Tydy,
Who heard her errand, lack-a-day!
And then she to her thus did say,
Oh dear
you should'nt-oh dear you
You should'nt buy tripe on a Friday.

should'nt,

But on she went, some tripe she bought,
Though she was in a shiver;
And got a fine piece for a groat,
Besides a hap'orth of liver:
But as she turn'd a large dog lay,
Who look'd-and with mouth so wide, he
Snatch'd her liver and ran away;

Then bark'd, which to her seem'd to say,

Bow wow, you should'nt-bow wow you should'nt, You should'nt buy tripe on a Friday.

So home she goes,

with sorrow flat,

Such ills she'd ne'er before met ;

And her favourite tabby cat,

She purring at the door met.

Ah, puss! she cried, I can't be gay,

Oh this to me's a wry day;

Miss Pussey she began to play,

And mew'd, which to her seem'd to say,

Molrow, you should'nt-molrow, you should'nt,

You should'nt buy tripe on a Friday.

Yet still she thought the tripe to eat,

So laid it on the dresser,

But pussey got it down so neat,

And quickly made it less, sir;

But a large piece stuck in her throat by the way,
And choak'd her neat and tidy;

She kick'd and sprawl'd, and down she lay,
And as she died she seem'd to say,
Molrow, you should'nt molrow, you should'nt,
You should'nt buy tripe on a Friday.