" To sit and muse in the pale moonlight, 

 Oh ! this indeed I love, 

 In the silent hours of ere, when bright 

 Are the shining stars above. 



"But when with meditation struck, 

 My heart beats low and quick, 

 Much better by far I lore to suck. 

 The end of a sugar stick." 



Stbachan's Lyieics. 



' Is thine a heart oppressed by care. 



And dost thou seek relief? 

 I know a remedy so rare, 

 It is — a slice of beef. 



" From all the world dost hide thy face. 

 Thy sorrows to conceal ? 

 I know what will thine anguish grace — 

 A cut of roasted veal. 



■' Would' st thou drive every dark grief out. 

 And misery put thy foot on ? 

 Secure thyself a pot of stout. 

 And a broiled chop of mutton. 



'Alone art thou, and desolate? 



Art utterly forsaken ? 

 If thou be so condemned by fate. 

 Take to — fried eggs and bacon. 



' Standest thou in awe of wicked folks ? 



Fly not in haste to cloisters ; 



A refuge pleasanter by chalks. 



Lies in — a score of oysters." 



Hewakd's Remains 



