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It is because you please 'em

Still more, John, than you tease 'em;
Because, too, when not present,
The thought of you is pleasant;
Because, though such an elf, John,
They think that if yourself, John,
Had something to condemn too,
You'd be as kind to them too :
In short, because you're very
Good-temper'd, Jack, and merry,
And are as quick at giving
As easy at receiving;

And in the midst of pleasure
Are certain to find leisure
To think, my boy, of ours,
And bring us lumps of flowers,

But see the sun shines brightly;
Come, put your hat on rightly,
And we'll among the bushes,
And hear your friends, the thrushes,
And see what flowers the weather
Has render'd fit to gather;

And when we home must jog, you
Shall ride my back, you rogue, you;
Your hat adorn'd with fine leaves,
Horse-chestnut, oak, and vine-leaves;
And so, with green o'erhead, John,
Shall whistle home to bed, John.



The Ass and the Flute.

You must know that this ditty,

This little romance,

Be it dull, be it witty,

Arose from mere chance.

Near a certain inclosure,

Not far from my manse,
An ass with composure
Was passing by chance.

As he went along prying,
With sober advance,
A shepherd's flute lying,
He found there by chance.

Our amateur started,

And eyed it askance, Drew nearer, and snorted Upon it by chance.

The breath of the brute, sir,

Drew music for once;

It entered the flute, sir,
And blew it by chance.

"Ah!" cried he, in wonder, "How comes this to pass ? Who will now dare to slander

The skill of an ass ?"

And asses in plenty

I see at a glance,

Who, one time in twenty,

Succeed by mere chance.


The Enchcape Rock.

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was still as she could be,
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock
The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The Abbot of Aberbrothok

Had placed that bell in the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.

When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

The sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;

The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd around,
And there was joyaunce in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean queen ;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fix'd his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,

But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape float;
Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;

Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,

And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape float.

Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles rose and burst around;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the

Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away,

He scour'd the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plunder'd store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.

Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon."

"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar?, For methinks we should be near the shore." "Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell."

They hear no sound, the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen they drift along, Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,➡ "Oh, Christ, it is the Inchcape Rock!"

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair;
He curst himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

But even in his dying fear

One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell
The Devil below was ringing his knell.


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