In a moment from his seat Was the MAYOR OF LONDON thrown, And the Aldermen――like wheat By the sickle newly mown: And the Sheriffs four were stretched their length along, And the mace joined in the fall, With decanters, plates and all, Which the company did sprawl Prone among. Out bawled his Lordship then, And the Corporation, too, Loudly raised those Aldermen Of affright the wild halloo:―― “What’s the matter, what’s the matter” was the cry; And the answer to their shout Was “Quick! put the barge about; Now, you fellow there, look out, For your eye!” And then it did appear, By bad steering, or bad luck, The barge against a pier Of Westminster Bridge had struck: Their escape was most miraculous, indeed, Now, your Worships, have a care Who your navigators are When on board you next repair For a feed. _Punch_, 1845. ――――:o:―――― OH! IN LONDON To London ere the sun is low, The unemployed in thousands go, Where the Trafalgar fountains flow, Like Hyndman speaking rapidly. But London saw another sight, When Hyndman bade his friends unite To make o’erladen shops more light Of their superfluous jewelry. By word and gesture fast arrayed, Whitechapel thieves of ev’ry grade―― Who rushed upon their westward raid To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the streets to riot given, Then rushed King Mob to havoc driven, And louder than the bolts of Heaven They roared in all their devilry. But more defiant yet they grow, As down South Audley Street they go, Bottles and legs of mutton throw In Socialistic bravery. The havoc deepens! On, ye brave, To win no glory――risk no grave―― Wave, Riot, thy red banner wave, And charge with East-end chivalry. ’Tis eve, and all the damage done, Police stroll up to see the fun, And from each thousand capture one Who joined not in the knavery. Few, few shall smart, tho’ many meet, And carpenters and glaziers greet A day dear to South Audley Street, The famous eighth of February. HYDE PARKER. [Illustration] CORONATION LAYS. (_Picked up in the Crowd_.)