As I have casually alluded to the flash song of Jerry Juniper, I may, perhaps, be allowed to make a few observations upon this branch of versification. It is somewhat curious, with a dialect so racy, idiomatic, and plastic as our own cant, that its metrical capabilities should have been so little essayed. The French have numerous _chansons d'argot_, ranging from the time of Charles Bourdigné and Villon down to that of Vidocq and Victor Hugo, the last of whom has enlivened the horrors of his "_Dernier Jour d'un Condamné_" by a festive song of this class. The Spaniards possess a large collection of _Romances de Germania_, by various authors, amongst whom Quevedo holds a distinguished place. We, on the contrary, have scarcely any slang songs of merit. With a race of depredators so melodious and convivial as our highwaymen, this is the more to be wondered at. Had they no bards amongst their bands? Was there no minstrel at hand to record their exploits? I can only call to mind one robber who was a poet,--Delany, and _he_ was an Irishman. This barrenness, I have shown, is not attributable to the poverty of the soil, but to the want of due cultivation. Materials are at hand in abundance, but there have been few operators. Dekker, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Ben Jonson have all dealt largely in this jargon, but not lyrically; and one of the earliest and best specimens of a canting-song occurs in Brome's "_Jovial Crew_;" and in the "_Adventures of Bamfylde Moore Carew_" there is a solitary ode, addressed by the mendicant fraternity to their newly-elected monarch; but it has little humor, and can scarcely be called a genuine canting-song. This ode brings us down to our own time; to the effusions of the illustrious Pierce Egan; to Tom Moore's Flights of "_Fancy_;" to John Jackson's famous chant, "_On the High Toby Spice Flash the Muzzle_," cited by Lord Byron in a note to "_Don Juan_;" and to the glorious Irish ballad, worth them all put together, entitled "_The Night Before Larry Was Stretched_." This facetious performance is attributed to the late Dean Burrowes, of Cork. It is worthy of note that almost all modern aspirants to the graces of the _Musa Pedestris_ are Irishmen. Of all rhymesters of the "_Road_," however, Dean Burrowes is, as yet, most fully entitled to the laurel. Larry is quite "the potato!" And here, as the candidates are so few, and their pretensions so humble, I can't help putting in my claim for praise.