’Mid soup, fish, and entrées our stay will be brief, Be it ever so gristly, there’s no meat like beef; A true English taste seems to hallow this fare, Which, eat what we will, is not met with elsewhere. Beef, beef, roast, roast beef, There’s no meat like beef; there’s no meat like beef. Debarred from my beef, kickshaws tempt me in vain, Oh, give me my plainly-cooked sirloin again; The greens, piping hot, to be brought to my call, Give me them with the under-cut, dearer than all. Beef, beef, roast, roast beef, There’s no meat like beef; there’s no meat like beef. FRIAR TUCK. ―――― TEA, SWEET TEA. ’Midst mansions or cottages, where’er we may be, Be it ever so feeble, there’s nothing like tea. A balm that restores seems to perfume the air, Which, seek through all comforts, is not met elsewhere. Tea, tea, sweet, sweet tea! There’s nothing like tea! there’s nothing like tea! Forbidden my tea, all else tempts me in vain, Oh, give me my Chinese infusion again. The urn, singing gladly, responds to my call, And brings back the soothing draught, cheering to all. EDIORA. ―――― THE LONDON POOR’S LAMENT. ’Mid gin-shops or “palaces” though I may roam, ’Tis better than starving and freezing at home! No food, fire, or candle is ever found there, Such comforts, alas! must be sought for elsewhere. Home, home, bleak, bleak home! For sorrow and want there’s no place like home! As exiles from home I and mine would be fain, We pine for a log-hut or cottage in vain. In a land where the poor are not forced “_to the wall_.” Give us this and some “pieces” down――better than all! Home, home, bleak, bleak home! There’s no place in England, there’s no place called home. CRYSTAL PALACE. ―――― (“Men are merriest when they are from home.――_Shakespeare._) ’Mid pleasures and palaces fain would I roam, Be it ever so stately there’s no peace at home; All bores ’neath the sky seem to follow us there, Which, seek thro’ the world, may not meet us elsewhere. Roam, roam, sweet to roam! There’s no peace at home! there’s no peace at home! A captive at home, comfort’s sought for in vain; Oh, give me my bachelor freedom again; The little club dinners, they came at my call; Give me them, with the “pipe of peace,” dearest than all. Roam, roam, sweet to roam! &c.