THE OLD LINE FENCE ZIG-ZAGGING it went On the line of the farm, And the trouble it caused THE OLD LINE FENCE. It was changed every year To which, when worn out, Our sires would resort WITH THE OLD LINE FENCE. In hoeing their corn, When the sun, too, was hot, They surely would jaw, Punch or claw, when they got TO THE OLD LINE FENCE. In dividing the lands Though sometimes in this When, with top rail in hand, Then the conflict was sharp On debatable ground, And the fertile soil there Would be mussed far around THE OLD LINE FENCE. It was shifted so oft That no flowers there grew. What frownings and clods, And what words were shot through THE OLD LINE FENCE! There would quarrel or fight, With a vigour and vim, But 'twas different at night The Old Line Fence BY THE OLD LINE FENCE. The fairest maid there That ever leaned soft On the opposite side OF AN OLD LINE FENCE. Where our fathers built hate There we builded our love, Breathed our vows to be true THE OLD LIne fence. Its place might be changed, But there we would meet, With our heads through the rails, AT THE OLd line fence. Ending ages of hate, And between us now stands NOT A SIGN OF LINE FENCE. No debatable ground Now enkindles alarms. I've the girl I met there, And, well, both of the farms, 761 A. W. Bellaw. O-U-G-H A FRESH HACK AT AN OLD KNOT I'M taught p-l-o-u-g-h S'all be pronouncé " plow." "Zat's easy w'en you know," I say, My teacher say zat in zat case, And zen I laugh and say to him, "Zees Anglais make me cough." He say << Not 'coo,' but in zat word, O-u-g-h is off,'” Oh, Sacre bleu! such varied sounds He say, "Again mon frien' ees wrong; In hiccough." Zen I cry, "No more, You make my t'roat feel rough." "Non, non!" he cry, "you are not right; O-u-g-h is uff.'” I say, "I try to spik your words, I cannot spik zem though!" "In time you'll learn, but now you're wrong! O-u-g-h is 'owe.'" "I'll try no more, I s'all go mad, I'll drown me in ze lough!" "But ere you drown yourself," said he, O-u-g-h is 'ock."" He taught no more, I held him fast, And killed him wiz a rough. Charles Battell Loomis. ENIGMA ON THE LETTER H 'TWAS whispered in heaven, 'twas muttered in hell, It assists at his birth and attends him in death, Travesty of Miss Fanshawe's Enigma In the heaps of the miser is hoarded with care, But woe to the wretch who expels it from home. 763 Catherine Fanshawe. TRAVESTY OF MISS FANSHAWE'S ENIGMA I DWELLS in the Hearth, and I breathes in the Hair; Yet I'm banished from 'Eaven, expelled from on 'igh. I resides in a Hattic, and loves not to roam, And yet I'm invariably absent from 'Ome. Though 'Ushed in the 'Urricane, of the Hatmosphere part, I enters no 'Ed, I creeps into no 'Art. Only look, and you'll see in the Heye Hi appear; Only 'Ark, and you'll 'Ear me just breathe in the Hear. Though in sex not an 'E, I am (strange paradox) Not a bit of an 'Effer, but partly a Hox. Of Heternity I'm the beginning! and, mark, Though I goes not with Noar, I'm first in the Hark. I dies in a month, but comes back in a Hour. Horace Mayhew. 1 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG GOOD people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short,— It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, A kind and gentle heart he had, And in that town a dog was found, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. The dog and man at first were friends; The dog, to gain some private ends, Around from all the neighboring streets, The wondering neighbors ran, To bite so good a man. The wound it seemed both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad But soon a wonder came to light, The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died. Oliver Goldsmith. |