The bride-elect and all her friends The noble earl invited, They said, “He don’t mind what he spends,” And all were much delighted. But when the splendid spread was o’er, The guests about departing, The landlord came and locked the door, This piece of news imparting: “His lordship’s had me twice on toast, So now, as you are going, I’d like to ask,” exclaimed mine host, “Who’ll pay me what is owing? Not one of you shall pass the door, The key is in my pocket; And not till someone’s paid the score Will this ’ere child unlock it.” “I’ve not enough!” gasped out the earl-- Without his host he’d reckoned-- The friends of that proud Yankee girl Went shares and paid my _second_. I stood at eve as the sun went down By the side of a flowing river That runs through the East of London town, And I turned me away with a shiver. I have smelt some smells in thy streets, Cologne, I have seen some filthy fluids, But nothing like this has the wide world known Since the days of the Ancient Druids. Let the essence of all the stinks be stirred And then you may fancy you smell my _third_. Where’er the flag of Britain Floats proudly on the breeze, In this our home of freedom And in lands beyond the seas; In India’s wondrous cities, On wild Australian tracks, In vast Canadian forests, And among the conquered blacks,-- As far as sword and bayonet Extend _our_ freedom’s goal, Next year, as per arrangement, They’ll celebrate my _whole_. A True Story. (A MORAL POEM FOR CHILDREN.) The waves were high in Conway Bay, The wind it blew a gale; Five visitors that very day Had ventured on a sail. The tide ran high, the little boat Unmanageable grew, And scarce could it be kept afloat By its unskilful crew. Some fisher folk upon the beach, All in the hurricane, Put off, that little boat to reach And bring it back again. And when the gale was at its height, Those Conway boatmen brave Went off--it was a glorious sight-- The drowning ones to save. They risked their lives, but Fate was kind-- They reached the boat at last; Its occupants, to death resigned, Thought every hope was past. Their thanks to Heaven they freely gave, And when they reached the beach, They to those Conway boatmen brave Presented sixpence each! The Pirate ’Bus.