218 SONG. 



the bottom, they lead to misfortune ; as to my bed, I made it myself, 

 and have a right to lie how I please. If people complain that it is 

 soiled and a little torn, they should have looked to that before they 

 tried to pull my bed from under me. They bored a hole beneath 

 me with a vengeance ; they were to drive carts, and waggons, and 

 armies, if necessary through it, and thought to do all this work with- 

 out disturbing me ; but who made the biggest hole ? All the putty 

 made, ever made, was not enough for a stopper to this newly disco- 

 vered decanter. No bunglers as they were, they never hit on a 

 bung fit for the purpose. But, joking apart, it was an atrocious 

 attempt on my life ; not content with my ancient source, they were 

 for giving me another, which has happily for me turned out to be 

 the source of trouble, and converted their expected profits, their di- 

 vidends, and imagined wealth into nothing but floating balances. I 

 was attacked, and attacked clandestinely ; but justice has prevailed, 

 and whilst I have a drop of water remaining, I will take care they 

 shall not complain of drought. 



And now, Sir, excuse this long and winding epistle, from a very 

 aged person. Garrulity is the privilege of years, I am as old as Adam, 

 and indeed am related to the people who brewed that ancient gentle- 

 man's ale. Should you be coming my way, or your wife, or any of 

 your amiable children, I shall be happy to give you a drink such as 

 I can, for I have enough and plenty to spare, notwithstanding the 

 tunnellers. Do me the favour to contradict all their reports, which, 

 as far as they relate to me, are evidently groundless; and wishing that 

 people may place no badly constructed and arch impediments to your 

 rise in the world, as they are continually doing to mine, or that no 

 undermining bore may disturb your rest, permit me to subscribe 

 myself your much injured and hardly worked 



OLD FATHER THAMES. 



IRISH SONG. 



YES ! discord's hand to the last it was 



In every field of our story, 

 Which did our country's fortunes cross, 



And tear down all her glory 

 And this we saw, and this we felt, 



Yet still the warning slighted, 

 Till a clinging curse was to us dealt 



The curse of the disunited ! 



Ay ! by the fate we shall weave for her, 



To atone for the fate we wove her ! 

 By those, her name who hate and slur 



By ourselves, who deeply love her ! 

 By manhood's worth ! by the sacred flame 



On her hearths and her altars lighted 

 By her present shame by her ancient fame- 



We are we are United ! 



