Oh! the Archers of Frogshot assemble to-day, And the fame of their doings has spread a great way; In lacings and facings they're beaten by no men, They've plenty of Beaux there, but very few Bow-men. There are Misses to hit, who no longer will tarry, And many Maid Mari-ans willing to marry; There's a Robin Hood fierce with nobody to fear him, And Tell shoots the apple of eyes that come near him; There are Foresters, famous for eating a dinner, And prizes, all sizes, but wanting a winner, And Dames in a pet if they get their pet-dog shot; And these are the deeds of the Archers of Frogshot. 13 Edmund Kean d. 1833. AMATEUR THEATRICALS. [Illustration] Behold the beardless _Flat_, a fancied _Kean_; The mawkish maid a stilted heroine; Tailors, retailers, spread dismay around, Heroes, by "=This Endenture=," basely bound, Braving the Chamberlain's portentous frown, Wield the baton, or mount the paper crown; Renounce their civic fetters for a throne; For _horses_ barter _kingdoms_ not their own; And find too late,—too soon, perhaps, by far,— The stage a half-way step from bench to _bar_. That Queen, in satin train, was trained in camlet, And he carves Ham who nightly cuts up Hamlet; The frail Jane Shore perchance is no impostor; While Gloster's Duke by day serves double Gloster; And 'tis but heaping Pelion on Ossa, If Ross, the barber, shines as Barbarossa. Then cheer up, Covent Garden! courage, Drury! Misfortune's storms in vain may vent their fury, When counter, kitchen, garret, bench, and stall, Send forth such champions to avert your fall. 31 Joe Grimaldi d. 1836. [Illustration] Farewell, transcendant Joe! Thou mirth-inspiring wight! Who, tho' thou wert so Grim-all-day, Yet mad'st us laugh at night. JOHN BUDD AND SUKEY SIMS. Susanna Sims was under nurse To little Messieurs Cole; And John Budd was a gardener, That lived at Camber_woll_. And John would often say to Sue, "We're for each other made: For vy—ain't I a nursery-man, And you a nursery-maid?"