When George IV, visited Scotland in August, 1822, Scott wrote an imitation of an old Jacobite ditty, _Carle, now the King’s come_, it was in two parts, and was published as a broadside. This was parodied, under the title of _Sawney, now the King’s come_, of which it is very difficult now to obtain a copy. In the third volume of the works of the late Thomas Love Peacock (London, R. Bentley and Son, 1875) there is a _Border Ballad_ written in imitation of Sir Walter Scott. This was one of the “Paper Money Lyrics” which were written by Peacock in 1825, and published in 1837, it has little to interest modern readers. Several other Parodies of Scott have appeared in _Punch_, in addition to those here reprinted. One, entitled _The Battle of Wimbledon_, which appeared on July 19, 1862, consists principally of an enumeration of the most famous shots amongst the Volunteers of the day. Another, _The Nile Song_, June 6, 1863, in imitation of “Hail to the Chief,” celebrates the announcement made by Sir R. Murchison, at the Royal Geographical Society that Messrs. Speke and Grant had discovered the sources of the Nile. A few other Parodies of detached passages of Scott’s poems are to be found in the early numbers of Blackwood’s Magazine, some of which were written by Professor Wilson (Christopher North.) Many of Scott’s novels have been dramatised, and also burlesqued, these will be enumerated when dealing with his prose works. It may here be mentioned, however, that a burlesque of _Kenilworth_, written by R. Reece and H. B. Farnie is now being performed at the Avenue Theatre, London. [Illustration] PARODIES OF SOME SCOTCH SONGS. THE LONDON UNIVERSITY. March, march, dustmen and coal-heavers, Doff your great castors for brims of less border, Assume trencher caps in the room of your old beavers, And march off to school at great Intellect’s order; For many a poet, who now does not know it, Professor, historian, logician and great wit, Mathematician, and famed rhetorician, Shall start from the dust-cart, or rise from the coal-pit. March, march, &c. Come from your shop-boards, ye tailors so nimble, Come forth, ye Crispins, from out your snug stalls, No more waste your time on your needle and thimble, Nor trust to your lapstones, your lasts, and your awls, Big wigs are debating, professors are waiting, To make ye all gentlemen, linguists, and great men, Turn tinkers and tailors to soldiers and sailors, And qualify dunces and asses for statesmen. Then march, march, &c. From _The Spirit of the Age_, 1829