The Admiral pulled to the islands three; The kings saluted him gracious_lee_. The Admiral, pleased at his welcome warm, Unrolled a printed Alliance form. [Illustration] "Your Majesty, sign me this, I pray-- I come in a friendly kind of way-- I come, if you please, with the best intents, And QUEEN VICTORIA'S compliments." The kings were pleased as they well could be; The most retiring of the three In a "cellar-flap" to his joy gave vent With a banjo-bones accompaniment. The great REAR-ADMIRAL BAILEY PIP Embarked on board his jolly big ship, Blue Peter flew from his lofty fore, And off he sailed to his native shore. ADMIRAL PIP directly went To the Lord at the head of the Government, Who made him, by a stroke of a quill, BARON DE PIPPE, OF PIPPETONNEVILLE. The College of Heralds permission yield That he should quarter upon his shield Three islands, _vert_, on a field of blue, With the pregnant motto "Chickeraboo." Ambassadors, yes, and attachés, too, Are going to sail for Chickeraboo. And, see, on the good ship's crowded deck, A bishop, who's going out there on spec. And let us all hope that blissful things May come of alliance with darky kings. And, may we never, whatever we do, Declare a war with Chickeraboo! [Illustration] THE BRITISH TAR A British tar is a soaring soul, As free as a mountain bird, His energetic fist should be ready to resist A dictatorial word. His nose should pant and his lip should curl, His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl, His bosom should heave and his heart should glow And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow. His eyes should flash with an inborn fire, His brow with scorn be wrung; He never should bow down to a domineering frown. Or the tang of a tyrant tongue. His foot should stamp and his throat should growl, His hair should twirl and his face should scowl; His eyes should flash and his breast protrude, And this should be his customary attitude! [Illustration] [Illustration] GENTLE ALICE BROWN It was a robber's daughter, and her name was ALICE BROWN, Her father was the terror of a small Italian town; Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing; But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing. As ALICE was a-sitting at her window-sill one day A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way; She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true, That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!" And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen, She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten, A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road (The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode).