VERSE VI.--(_Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being called upon to defend themselves at some time!_) We’ve made up our minds--though the Jingoes may jor-- Under no provocation to drift into war! So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee Is--Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea! _Chorus_--Give ’em away, &c. VERSE VII.--(_We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method of treating it here. The argument--if crudely stated--is borrowed from some advanced by our foremost politicians._) We’ve also discovered at last that it’s crule To deny the poor Irish their right to ’Ome Rule! So to give ’em a Parlyment let us agree-- (_Rationally_) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their “Tea”! [_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._ _Chorus_--Give it away, &c. VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming Dawn_). Iniquitous burdens and rates we’ll relax: For each “h” that’s pronounced we will clap on a tax! [_A very popular measure._ And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free, Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea! _Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray! Gratis we’ll get it for nothing and free! Given away! Not a penny to pay! Given away!--with a Pound of Tea! If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr. Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment. IV.--THE IDYLLIC. The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any lady _artiste_. SO SHY! _The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the public._ I’m a dynety little dysy of the dingle, [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_. So retiring and so timid and so coy. If you ask me why so long I have lived single, I will tell you--’tis because I am so shoy. [_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation._ _Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn’t think it to look at me, would you? But, for all that,--