THE INDEFEASIBLE TITLE. I’ll sing you all a song that was made by an honest pate, Of a fine old Irish gentleman, who mortgaged his estate To a bluff old English mortgagee, who swore he couldn’t wait, But would sell the lands at any price and at an early date, Like a business-like old Englishman, all of the olden time. * * * * * (_Nine verses omitted._) _Kottabos_ was a small magazine issued from Trinity College, Dublin, and published by William McGee. ――――:o:―――― A PARODY BY CHARLES DICKENS. The following parody, written by Charles Dickens, appeared in _The Examiner_ for Saturday, August 7, 1841. Mr. Forster thus refers to it in his _Life of Charles Dickens_: “The last of these rhymes I will give _entire_. This has no touch of personal satire in it, and he would himself, for that reason, have least objected to its revival.” Thereupon Mr. Forster quotes seven only out of the eight stanzas he professes to give in full, omitting one which quite destroys his assertion that there was no personal satire in the parody. Mr. Forster was once described by a cabman as “that ’ere _h_arbitrary cove;” to give a garbled quotation, and state that it is the entire poem is indeed an arbitrary act. The following is a complete reproduction of Mr. Dickens’s parody:―― THE FINE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. New version (_to be said or sung at all Conservative Dinners_.) I’ll sing you a new ballad, and I’ll warrant it first-rate, Of the days of that old gentleman who had that old estate; When they spent the public money at a bountiful old rate, On ev’ry mistress, pimp, and scamp, at ev’ry noble gate, In the fine old English Tory times; Soon may they come again! The good old laws were garnished well with gibbets, whips, and chains, With fine old English penalties, and fine old English pains, With rebel heads, and seas of blood, once hot in rebel veins; For all these things were requisite to guard the rich old gains, Of the fine old English Tory times; Soon may they come again! This brave old code, like Argus, had a hundred watchful eyes, And ev’ry English peasant had his good old English spies, To tempt his starving discontent with fine old English lies, Then call the good old Yeomanry to stop his peevish cries, In the fine old English Tory times; Soon may they come again!