Lay the base Invaders low, Tyrants fall in every foe. Freedom hangs on every blow, Oh! to conquer or to die! Printed for J. HATCHARD, 190, Piccadilly, Price Three-pence per dozen. J. Hales, Old Boswell Court. No date. ―――― WING-KEE-FUM’S _Address to the Patriot’s Army_. A Parody, with the above title, was published in _Diogenes_ (a London comic journal), in September, 1853. It was in reference to the Revolution in China against the Tartar dynasty, when the rebels made it incumbent upon their adherents to shave off their pigtails, hitherto the badge of the conquered race. As the parody has little merit or historical interest, the following extracts will suffice:―― Cut away! No coward fears Shall restrain our warlike shears; We shout defiance in the ears Of all the Tartar race. Now the day is nobly won, Now the deed is nobly done; We hurl our pigtails, every one, In the Mantchoo’s face! Victory! our country’s free! The pigtail gone, no longer we By any alien race shall be Trampled on――kept down. The day’s our own――we’ll wear our hair Just as we please; and boldly swear The Mantchoo’s pigtail now shall ne’er Aspire to China’s crown. * * * * * ―――― TRAVELLERS, WHO’VE SO OFT BEEN BLED. Travellers, who’ve so oft been bled, When you’re poorly lodged and fed, At the Blue Boar, or King’s Head. Or the Victory; Ye who’ve paid a crown, or so, For a pint of Cape, or sloe, Join your powers to overthrow Such cool knavery! Down with every monstrous tax, Chambermaids, and lights of wax! Who will pay for these, I ax, Shillings two or three? With each breast the feeling chimes, Well to punish such foul crimes; To the castigating _Times_, Biffin, write with me! By the dinners, dear and bad, By the items, never had, Charged and paid for, yet too glad To escape so free,―― Deal mine host a deadly blow: Tell the boots that he may go To the gentleman below! Forward――what a spree! _Diogenes_, October 15, 1853. ―――― SONG, _by an “Old Shaver_.” Ye whose chins have often bled, Who, no doubt, each morn have said, “Why should blood of mine be shed To please Society?” Now’s the day, and now’s the hour; Though your close-shorn friends look sour, Defiance bid to _barberous_ power, Soap and slavery!