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And in at the windows and in at the door,
And through the walls by thousands they pour,
And down from the ceiling and up thro' the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below
And all at once to the Bishop they go.

They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the Bishop's bones,

They gnawed the flesh from every limb
For they were sent to do judgment on him!

R. S. Y.


To a PIG, while his Nose was being bored.

Hark! hark! that Pig-that Pig! the hideous note, More loud, more dissonant, each moment growsWould one not think the knife was in his throat? And yet they are only boring thro' his nose.

You foolish beast, so rudely to withstand
Your master's will, to feel such idle fears!
Why, Pig, there's not a Lady in the land
Who has not also bor'd and ring'd her ears.

Pig! 'tis your master's pleasure-then be still,
And hold your nose to let the iron thro' !
Dare you resist your lawful Sovereign's will?
Rebellious Swine! you know not what you do!

To man o'er every beast the

power was given, Pig, hear the truth, and never murmur more! Would you rebel against the will of Heaven?

You impious beast, be still, and let them bore!

The social Pig resigns his natural rights
When first with man he covenants to live;
He barters them for safer stye delights,

For grains and wash, which man alone can give.

Sure is provision on the social plan,

Secure the comforts that to each belong : Oh, happy Swine! the impartial sway of man Alike protects the weak Pig and the strong.

And you resist! you struggle now because
Your master has thought fit to bore your nose!
You grunt in flat rebellion to the laws
Society finds needful to impose!

Go to the forest, Piggy, and deplore
The miserable lot of savage swine!

See how the young Pigs fly from the great Boar,
And see how coarse and scantily they dine!

Behold their hourly danger, when who will May hunt or snare or seize them for his food! Oh, happy Pig! whom none presumes to kill

Till your protecting master thinks it good!

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And when, at last, the closing hour of life

Arrives (for Pigs must die as well as Man),

When in your throat you feel the long sharp knife,
And the blood trickles to the pudding pan;

And, when at last, the death wound yawning wide,
Fainter and fainter grows the expiring cry,

Is there no grateful joy, no loyal pride,

To think that for your master's good you die?




O would the Baptist come again
And preach aloud with might and main
Repentance to our viperous Race!
But should this miracle take place,
I hope, ere Irish ground he treads,
He'll lay in a good Stock of Heads!


Occasioned by the Former.

I hold of all our viperous Race
The greedy creeping Things in. Place
Most vile, most venomous; and then
The United Irishmen !

To come on earth should John determine,
Imprimis, we'll excuse his sermon.

Without a word the good old Dervis
Might work incalculable service,

At once from Tyranny and Riot

Save Laws, Lives, Liberties, and Moneys,

If sticking to his ancient Diet

He'd but eat up our Locusts and wild Honeys!

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