O! ’Tis love! ’tis love! ’tis love! From woman’s bright eye glancing, O! ’tis love! ’tis love! ’tis love! Every heart entrancing. What claims the monarch’s duty? What soothes the peasant’s pain? What melts the haughty beauty, And conquers her disdain? O! ’tis love, &c. O! ’tis love! ’tis love! ’tis love! The warrior doth inspire. O! ’tis love! ’tis love! ’tis love! That kindles soft desire. On rocks or lonely mountains, In palaces or vales, In gay saloons near fountains, ’Tis love alone prevails. O! ’tis love! &c. ―――― OH ’TIS BEEF! Oh, ’tis Beef, ’tis Beef, ’tis Beef, (’Pon my soul I’m not joking), Oh, ’tis Beef, Affords relief, When hunger’s most provoking. Though many may doat upon mutton, And some prefer veal or lamb, Upon Beef I could feed like a glutton, Nor sigh for poultry and ham; Flank, brisket, or the sir-loin, I never could let alone, But nice tit-bits would I purloin From buttock, round, or edgebone. Oh, ’tis Beef, ’tis Beef, ’tis Beef, (’Pon my soul I’m not joking). Oh,’tis Beef, Affords relief, When hunger’s most provoking. Though Mrs. Glass I daily look in, (No _reflection_ on that cook, the chief), Of all dishes her famous book in, There’s none can compare with Beef. How sweet when after my toiling, And cutting joints up, down, across, To behold on the gridiron broiling, A rump-steak for my oyster sauce, Oh, ’tis Beef, ’tis Beef, ’tis Beef, (’Pon my soul I’m not joking), Oh, ’tis Beef, Affords relief, When hunger’s most provoking. D. A. O’MEARA. ―――― OH! ’TIS LOVE! Oh! ’tis love, ’tis love, ’tis love, That makes the world go round; Ev’ry day, beneath his sway, Fools, old and young, abound; Love often turns young ladies’ brains, At which mamma will scold, So, in revenge, Love thinks it fair To shoot sometimes the old; With love some folks go mad, ’Tis love makes some quite thin, Some find themselves so bad, The sea they must jump in. Oh! ’tis love, &c. _The Universal Songster._ ―――― OH! THIS LOVE! THIS LOVE! TO ME’S A FUNNY THING.