And be poked up behind with a picked pointed pole, when the soot has ketch’d, and the chimbly’s red hot. Oh I’d give the whole wide world, if the world was mine, to clap my two longin’ eyes on his face. For he’s my darlin of darlins, and if he don’t soon come back, you’ll see me drop stone dead on the place. I only wish I’d got him safe in these two Motherly arms, and wouldn’t I hug him and kiss him! Lauk! I never knew what a precious he was--but a child don’t not feel like a child till you miss him. Why there he is! Punch and Judy hunting, the young wretch, it’s that Billy as sartin as sin! But let me get him home, with a good grip of his hair, and I’m blest if he shall have a whole bone in his skin!” SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND. Cables entangling her, Shipspars for mangling her, Ropes, sure of strangling her; Blocks over-dangling her; Tiller to batter her, Topmast to shatter her, Tobacco to spatter her; Boreas blustering, Boatswain quite flustering, Thunder clouds mustering To blast her with sulphur-- If the deep don’t engulph her; Sometimes fear’s scrutiny Pries out a mutiny, Sniffs conflagration, Or hints at starvation:-- All the sea-dangers, Buccaneers, rangers, Pirates, and Sallee-men, Algerine galleymen, Tornadoes and typhons, And horrible syphons, And submarine travels Thro’ roaring sea-navels; Every thing wrong enough, Long boat not long enough, Vessel not strong enough; Pitch marring frippery, The deck very slippery, And the cabin--built sloping, The Captain a-toping, And the Mate a blasphemer, That names his Redeemer,-- With inward uneasiness; The cook, known by greasiness, The victuals beslubber’d, Her bed--in a cupboard; Things of strange christening, Snatch’d in her listening, Blue lights and red lights And mention of dead lights, And shrouds made a theme of, Things horrid to dream of,-- And _buoys_ in the water To fear all exhort her; Her friend no Leander, Herself no sea gander, And ne’er a cork jacket On board of the packet; The breeze still a stiffening, The trumpet quite deafening; Thoughts of repentance, And doomsday and sentence; Everything sinister, Not a church minister,-- Pilot a blunderer, Coral reefs under her, Ready to sunder her; Trunks tipsy-topsy, The ship in a dropsy; Waves oversurging her, Syrens a-dirgeing her; Sharks all expecting her, Sword-fish dissecting her, Crabs with their hand-vices Punishing land vices; Sea-dogs and unicorns, Things with no puny horns, Mermen carnivorous-- “Good Lord deliver us!” ANACREONTIC. BY A FOOTMAN.