HENRY KIRKE WHITE's POEMS. 



THE WONDERFUL JUGGLER. 



A Song. 



Come all ye true hearts, who old England to save, 

 Now shoulder the niusket, or plough the rough wave, 

 I will sing you a song of a wonderful fellow, 

 Who has ruined Jack Pudding, and broke Punchinello. 

 Derrj down, down, high derrj down. 



This juggler is little, and uglj, and black, 



But, like Atlas, he stalks with the world at his back ; 



'Tis certain, all fear of the devil he scorns ; 



Some say they are cousins ! we know he wears horns. 



Derry down. 



At hop, skip, and jump, who so famous as he ; 

 He hopp'd o'er an army, he skipp'd o'er the sea ; 

 And he jumped from the desk of a village attorney 

 To the throne of the Bourbons — a pretty long journey. 



Derry down. 



He tosses up kingdoms the same as a ball, 

 And his cup is so fashion'd it catches them all ; 

 The Pope and Grand Turk have been heard to declare 

 His skill at the long bow has made them both stare. 



Derry down. 



And Germany too knows his legerdemain ; 



So hearing John Bull has a taste for strange sights. 



He's coming to London to put us to rights. 



Derry down. 



To encourage his puppets to venture this trip, 

 He has built them such boats as can conquer a ship ; 

 With a gun of good metal, that shoots out so far. 

 It can silence the broadsides of three men-of-war. 



Derry down. 



