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John Adams' Son, my Jo, John, 'twould be a maister

stroke, Gin ye could put to death soon, that fellow Roanoke ; Ye've tried to prove him mad,John, but oh, it will na do, He is na mad nor Tazwell fou,John Adams' Son, my Jo. John Adams' Son, my Jo, John, ye’ve climb'd the

highest steeple, But dinna tak it in your head to scorn the Sov’reign

People; Ye're getting Ultra Fed', John, and lift too high your

pow, Draw in that cloven foot, ye de’il, John Adams' Son,

my Jo.

John Adams' Son, my Jo, John, turn down to earth

your eyes, And dinna talk o' building “Light Houses o' the Skies;" Quit “Exploration” schemes, John, and ilka thing

forego, They ca’ unconstitutional, John Adams' Son, my Jo.

THE VICAR OF BRAY.

In my good Father's royal days,
The reign nick-nam'd of terror;

A zealous Monarchist I was,
And never own'd my error-

All Democrats were Jacobines,
Agog for Revolution ;

And “Rights of Man” were but the means
To kick up some confusion,

And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y CI

y,

sir.
That ev'ry man who wants to reign,
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.

When Jefferson obtained the throne,
I felt a deep conviction :

In Congress Hall I made it known,
And voted for Restriction-

The Terrapin was then the thing, Most worthy imitation,

And not such geese as Pickering;
So down with Exportation:

And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign,
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.
When Madison eclips'd Monroe,
I did my service tender,

And soon was sent a Plenipo, To Russian Alexander

The loaves and fishes thus I got, And gull’d th’ Administration,

Nor did I care a single groat,
For former friend's damnation :

And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign,
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.
When James the Second proved to be,
“The star of the ascendant,"

I plotted my catastrophe, As I was still dependent,

And so you see it came to pass In Fortune's wild vagary,

“Write poor Dogberry down an ass,” But write me Secretary :

And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign,
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.
Great Britain once I did adore,
But now I took my cue, sir;

Her greatness, pshaw! twas all a bore, And I began t'abuse her

I kept a sharp lookout ahead, Ran down the English nation,

As all who wish may fully read In my July oration:

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And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign,
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.
When Jemmy's eight long years were gone,
I'm free to be confessor,

I fix'd my eye upon the throne, For who could tell successor ?

But when I heard the People roar, And saw their clear intent, sir,

I play'd old Talleyrand once more
And wooed the man of Ghent, sir:

And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign,
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.
So Hal and I were cup and can,
He Congress-men could twist, sir,

And triumph'd o'er the great Hang-man,
T' Arbuthnot and Ambrister !

We boldly argued him unfit, To fill such lofty stations.

Who I myself before had writ
Was right by laws o' nations :

And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir.
Th' illustrious Coalition, and
“Safe precedent succession,”

For these I'll join both heart and hand, “While I can keep possession ;

And by my plighted faith, dear Clay, With you

I will not palter, And you

shall have my place one day, "Unless

my

mind should alter :"
And this is true I will maintain,
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

y
That ev'ry man who wants to reign
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir,

And now I'm firmly seated high, I may have some opinion,

I need no longer now deny I hate the Old Dominion

Her stubborn pride must now succumb, Her strength be lost by fractures,

We've got her down beneath our thumb, By dint of manufactures:

And this is true I will maintain
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign
Must be a Vicar of Bray, sir,
No longer palsied will we sit,
But with one mighty movement,

We'll ruin our Constituents yet, By means of their improvement

We'll make a splendid kingdom rise Like European nations.

And from Light Houses of the Skies,
We'll send them Corruscations:

And this is true I will maintain
And so will Hen y Cl y, sir;

That ev'ry man who wants to reign
Must be a vicar of Bray, sir.

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TO TOBACCO.

Food fills the wame an' keeps us livin’
Tho’ life's a gift no worth receivin,'
When heavy dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin'

But oil'd by thee,
The wheels o life gae downhill, screivin ;

Wi’rattlin glee.-Burns.
Some talk of black eyed girls and blue,
And some of cheeks of rosy hue,
Of wit and wine and friendship true;

They're well enoughTobacco!! give me thee to chew

To smoke, or snuff.

Oh! fragaant plant where'er you are,
In box or pouch, or sweet segar,
Havanna! Brown's ! or Maccabau !

Thou best of weeds!
Crown him the first of Bards, by far,

Who sings thy deeds.
I love to sit and see thee curl'd
In circling smoke, and upward whirld,
A pinch of snuff for all the world!

At such a time-
Unto the winds my cares be hurld:

I feel sublime,
When thou dost titilate my nose,
It seems to dissipate my woes,
I feel a thrill down to my toes

Quite 'cap a pee,'
Ah! wretched he who never knows

Thy joys, Rappee !
When cold compelleth us to wheeze
Who would exchange one glorious sneeze
For all the charms of all the shes

For wealth or wine ?
And what so soon can raise a breeze

As Number Nine?
He who'd of ev'ry ill be rid,
Has but to take a monstrous quid
Into the mouth, let it be slid

And draw the breath
Then, like the reckless Richard Fid,

Who cares for death ?-
There's scarce a man in all this nation,
of high or lowly occupation,
No matter what may be his station

On life's long docket
But keeps you in some sort of fashion

Snug in his pocket.
Your Tradesman with his hardy fist,
In ecstasy will grasp his twist

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