They refer to the Cart Horse procession held in Liverpool on May-day, and describe, with tolerable accuracy, the scenes of rough revelry and noisy merriment which this carnival gives rise to. These compositions are merely quoted as curiosities, possessing, as they do, every attribute which should be studiously avoided in a parody. They are slangy and vulgar, more especially in the omitted verses, without being either humorous or grotesque; they debase the memory of a really beautiful poem by the mere trick of repetition of a catch-phrase and some slight imitation of its metre. The subject chosen is low and commonplace, which might, perhaps, have been excused, had the description of its unpleasant details been enlivened by one spark of wit, or genuine originality. To the lovers of an original poem such Parodies must be offensive; whilst to those who delight in a really clever burlesque, such things as these can afford no gratification, and only tend to bring _true Parody_ into disrepute. THE DRAY QUEEN. _A Car-men on the May-day Carnival, after the Poet Lorry-ate._ YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear! To-morrow'll be the liveliest time of all the glad New Year; Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. There'll be many a black, black eye, they say, and many a lively shine With Margaret and Mary, and Kate and Caroline; But none can lick this little Alice, in all the court, they say; So I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake If you do not call loud and give me, too, a jolly good shake; As I must buy some bonnet-flowers and sky-blue ribbons gay, For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. As I came up our alley, whom think ye I should see? But Robin leaning on Chisenhale Bridge, as screwed as he could be; He had been cleaning his harness, mother, and drinking all the day; But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. You know my Robin drives a dray, a heavy brewer's cart; To-morrow with his handsome team of horses he will start A-roaming up and down the streets, loafing about all day, And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray. To-morrow I'll get out of pawn my bran-new winsey frock, For Robin he is sure to wear a reg'lar snow-white smock; His dray is cleaned and painted up, and now looks very gay, And I must be clean on the Dray, mother, I must be clean on the Dray. The horses' tails all nicely combed, with ribbons will be decked, Upon the shining harness not a smirch you can detect, The very brutes they seem to feel it is the first of May, And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.