Mulleary’s line was quite the same; He has more hair, but far less fame. I would not from that fame retrench— But he is foreign, being French. Yet high his haughty head he heaves, The only one done up in leaves, They’re rather limited on wreath— Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. Go-ethe wrote in the German tongue: He must have learned it very young. His nose is quite a butt for scoff, Although an inch of it is off. He did quite nicely for the Dutch; But here he doesn’t count for much. They all are off their native heath— Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. They sit there, on their chests, as bland As if they were not second-hand. I do not know of what they think, Nor why they never frown or wink. But why from smiling they refrain I think I clearly can explain: They none of them could show much teeth— Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. BEHOLD THE DEEDS! (_Being the Plaint of Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, Salesman of Fancy Notions, held in durance of his Landlady for a “failure to connect” on Saturday night._) I would that all men my hard case would know, How grievously I suffer for no sin: I, Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, for lo! I of my landlady am lockèd in For being short on this sad Saturday, Nor having shekels of silver wherewith to pay: She turned and is departed with my key; Wherefore, not even as other boarders free, I sing, (as prisoners to their dungeon-stones When for ten days they expiate a spree): Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones! One night and one day have I wept my woe; Nor wot I, when the morrow doth begin, If I shall have to write to Briggs & Co., To pray them to advance the requisite tin For ransom of their salesman, that he may Go forth as other boarders go alway— As those I hear now flocking from their tea, Led by the daughter of my landlady Piano-ward. This day, for all my moans, Dry-bread and water have been servèd me. Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!