At a week, a scheme of murder floated through its baby brain, For the monthly nurse, unwisely, had displayed her watch and chain; So he slew her, and he stole them, with an infantile “Ha, ha!” As he managed that suspicion should be cast upon his pa. Then he crowed till he was purple, and his back they had to pat, When the famous Mr. Berry made his pa a new cravat; And when nobody was looking and the hour was nice and still, He secured his father’s papers, and he tampered with the will. He bequeathed himself the mansion, the carriages, and plate, And all the landed property and personal estate. When the law his pa had Berried, with a sly, Satanic mirth, He ante-dated twenty years his “stifficate” of birth. Then at once he took possession, and he told his ma to go, And because she made objections, pushed her out into the snow; She was taken to the workhouse, where her widowed heart soon broke, For she couldn’t stand the skilly, and she turned against the toke. Then this wretched new-born infant, knowing not a parent’s care, Began to blue the property to which he was the heir. Through keeping shady company, he went from bad to worse-- He was not the sort of baby that a decent girl could nurse. At law and at morality that wicked baby mocked, He was such a thorough villain that Society was shocked; And it was not much astonished when, before completing three, He had wrecked his constitution and had suffered from d.t. At the age of four a bloated, shattered martyr to the gout, He arsoned so incautiously the Office found him out. To escape a prosecution he committed suicide, And the world has been much better since that little darling died. The Button. (A TALE OF THE TUNNEL.) The Premier sat in the Premier’s chair, And he said to his colleagues assembled there, “The Cabinet meets, as you all are aware, To discuss the momentous button. The time for action has come at last, The French in the tunnel are gathering fast; Now is the time their plans to blast-- I am going to touch the button!” He put out his finger to do the deed, But a Minister cried, “We are not agreed That the country stands in such desperate need Of a touch of that awful button. The tunnel’s a big commercial spec-- Just think of the property we shall wreck! There are plenty of ways the foe to check-- Let’s try ’em before the button.” And then there arose a big debate, And the Cabinet sat till rather late Before they could settle the final fate Of Sir Edward Watkin’s button. They argued con, and they argued pro, Till a message came to let them know The Commander-in-Chief was down below In a fury about the button.