You’ve been christened an ass in the Times, And the Chronicle calls you a fool; And that dealer in boys, Dr. Ghrimes, Has engaged the next house for a school; And the playground will run by the bower Which you took so much trouble to rear; We shall never have one quiet hour-- But I wish you a happy New Year! Little John will not take to his book, He’s come home black and blue from the cane; There’s your uncle is courting his cook, And your mother has married again! Jacob Jones will be tried with his wife, And against them you’ll have to appear; If they’re hung you’ll be wretched for life-- But I wish you a happy New Year! SEA-SONG. AFTER DIBDIN. Pure water it plays a good part in The swabbing the decks and all that-- And it finds its own level for sartin-- For it sartinly drinks very flat:-- For my part a drop of the creatur I never could think was a fault, For if Tars should swig water by nature The sea would have never been salt!-- Then off with it into a jorum, And make it strong, sharpish, or sweet, For if I’ve any sense of decorum It never was meant to be neat!-- One day when I was but half sober,-- Half measures I always disdain-- I walk’d into a shop that sold Soda, And ax’d for some Water Champagne;-- Well, the lubber he drew and he drew, boys, Till I’d shipped my six bottles or more, And blow off my last limb but it’s true, boys, Why, I warn’t half so drunk as afore!-- Then off with it into a jorum, And make it strong, sharpish, or sweet, For if I’ve any sense of decorum It never was meant to be neat. REFLECTIONS ON A NEW YEAR’S DAY. Yes, yes, it’s very true, and very clear! By way of compliment and common chat, It’s very well to wish me a New Year; But wish me a new hat! Although not spent in luxury and ease, In course a longer life I won’t refuse; But while you’re wishing, wish me, if you please, A newer pair of shoes! Nay, while new things and wishes are afloat, I own to one that I should not rebut-- Instead of this old rent, to have a coat With more of the New Cut! O yes, ’tis very pleasant, though I’m poor, To hear the steeple make that merry din; Except I wish one bell was at the door, To ring new trousers in. To be alive is very nice indeed, Although another year at last departs; Only with twelve new months I rather need A dozen of new shirts. Yes, yes, it’s very true, and very clear, By way of compliment and common chat, It’s very well to wish me a New Year, But wish me a new hat! WRITTEN UNDER THE FEAR OF BAILIFFS. Alas! of all the noxious things That wait upon the poor, Most cruel is that Felon-Fear That haunts the “Debtor’s Door!”