Now, instead of being seen next day at his desk at half past ten, He doesn’t find himself there till one, p’raps not even then; And his head aches so, and his hand shakes so, he can scarcely hold his pen; But, “these little accidents will occur to the steadiest of men!” Says this fine young English gentleman, one of the present time. Now, the senior clerk is a horrid old man, as strict as he is sly, And he calls up this fine young gentleman, and he asks him the reason why; And this good young man replies to him――for, he “scorns to tell a lie”―― That he sat up all night with a poor sick friend, to the best of his memory! Like a fine young English gentleman, one of the present time. Then he goes back to his brother clerks, if nothing else intervenes. And they’re neither quite as wise as judges, nor yet as grave as deans; And a great deal is said about “flaring up,” and “going it like bricks and beans;” And they call each other “slap up trumps!” I’m told the expression means A fine young English gentleman, one of the present time. ANONYMOUS (about 1845.) ―――― THE OLD ENGLISH PUBLICAN. I’ll sing you a song, a good old song, which I have sung before, About an English publican who lived in days of yore, The bush then served him for a sign, with chequers at the door, His ale was fine, and choice his wine, of which he had good store, The fine old English publican, who served in olden times. Upon the hearth the fire then blaz’d with logs and roots of trees, The chimney corner held a score who sat round at their ease; ’Twas there the song and ale went round the social guests to please, ’Till morning chimes bid them depart; we’ll ne’er see times like these. The fine, &c. They brewed their ale and bak’d their bread, bacon on the rack, And poultry which the ale-wife fed, and flour in by the sack: Mine host then had his gun and dog, the fox or hare could track, And in his pouch when on the chase had malmsey, ale, or sack, The fine, &c. You might then play a game at cards, could sing and dance at ease, Nor heeded an informer’s dread, for such vile knaves displease; And men could enjoy themselves, and might their fancies please, Nor could the taxman come as now, the landlord’s purse to squeeze. The fine, &c.