They thought of Sarah when at church, And for her voice of honey They left poor Irving in the lurch To spend unbounded money Upon this famous Gallic wench, Who spoke so musically; And those who knew the least of French. Were loudest praising Sally. ’Tis true that many an English star Was prone to rail at Sally, And say the slaves of fashion are Like slaves who row a galley. Since, therefore, at the Gaiety She can no longer dally, How happy they――and we――shall be To hear no more of Sally. _Funny Folks._ July 19, 1879. ―――― BULLY IN OUR ALLEY. Of all the brutes I loathe to meet, One lives in our alley; He leaves his wife with nought to eat When he for drink doth sally. Of all the days within the week He only loves but one day, And that’s the day that comes between The Saturday and Monday. For then, until his cash is gone, He fills a flowing measure, And ere he goes to bed at dawn, He kicks his wife for pleasure. Poor soul! she drinks a little too, And gets in debt with “Tally,” For which he beats her black and blue―― That Bully in our Alley. She locks him up, but lets him free By answering shilly-shally, And he half kills her in his glee, That Bully in our Alley. May Justice, lately something slack, And much inclined to dally, Soon leave her mark upon his back―― That Bully in our Alley! _Funny Folks._ THE LAST DAYS OF SALLY AND OUR ALLEY. (_A Sanitary Comic Song by_ S. BRETT.) Of all the girls in our town There was none that suffered like Sally; For Sal and her parents got broken down, And with them, our alley. Her mother sold sprats, and her father caught rats, Round Holborn Hill and its valley; And Sal sold mats and bought old hats, When out she chose to sally. Chorus. One unlucky night, the cats did afright, And broke the sweet slumbers of Sally; Then she threw all her hats, at the wicked old cats That kicked up a row in the alley. _Repeat 1st verse for Chorus._ The very next night, the cats out of spite, Stole a first-class door mat from Sally, Then the rest of her mats she threw at the cats That stole all the lost goods in the alley. Next day, the same cats, stole a bushel of sprats, That belonged to the mother of Sally; Then Sal let loose her father’s rats, That destroyed all the cats in the alley. Now the landlord, an old sot, a bull terrier had got, And he tarried to bully poor Sally, And he sat on his dog, which went the whole hog, And destroyed all the rats in the alley.