'Twas he was the boy didn't fail,
That tuck down pataties and mail ;
He never would shrink
From any sthrong dthrink,
Was it whisky or Drogheda ale;
I'm bail

When they roasted him in effigy by This Larry would swallow a pail.

Oh, many a night at the bowl,
With Larry I've sot cheek by jowl;
He's gone to his rest,

Where's there's dthrink of the best,
And so let us give his old sowl
A howl,

For 'twas he made the noggin to rowl.

"Come, gentle Nora," says the goddess | What, Erin beloved, is thy fetal con

THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X.

THE WOFLE NEW BALLAD OF | No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney
JANE RONEY AND MARY
BROWN.

AN igstrawnary tail I vill tell you this
veek

I stood in the Court of A'Beckett the
Beak,

Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see,
Who charged Mary Brown with a rob-
bin of she.

This Mary was pore and in misery once,
And she came to Mrs. Roney it's more
than twelve monce.
She adn't got no bed, nor no dinner
nor no tea,

And kind Mrs. Roney gave Mary all
three.

Mrs. Roney kep Mary for ever so many veeks,

(Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax,)

was sped,

Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed;

She kep her for nothink, as kind as

last Thursday, in Lambeth, ven whom should she see

this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to she?

That all my plans should break in my

ands,

And should on me recoil?

"My state I fenced about

Vith baynicks and vith guns;
My gals I portioned hout,

Rich vives I got my sons;
O varn't it crule to lose my rule,
My money and lands at once?

And So, vith arp and woice,
Both troubled and shagreened,
I bid you to rejoice,

O glorious England's Queend!
And never have to veep, like pore
Louis-Phileep,

Because you out are cleaned.

"O Prins, so brave and stout,

I stand before your gate;

Pray send a trifle hout

To me, your pore old Vait;

Or else we'd gained the day.
The harmy quite kept out of sight,
And so ve vent avay.

"Next day the Pleacemen came
Rewenge it was their plann-
And from my good old dame

They took her tailor-mann:
And the hard hard beak did me be-
speak

To Newgit in the Wann.

"In that etrocious Cort
The Jewry did agree;
The Judge did me transport,
To go beyond the sea:
And so for life, from his dear wife
They took poor old Cuffee.

"O Halbert, Appy Prince!

With children round your knees,
Ingraving ausum Prints,
And taking hoff your hease;

For nothink could be vuss than it's O think of me, the old Cuffee,

been along vith us

In this year Forty-eight."

Beyond the solt solt seas!

"Although I'm hold and black,
My hanguish is most great;
Great Prince, O call me back,
And I vill be your Vait!

And never no more vill break the Lor,
As I did in 'Forty-eight."

The tailer thus did close

(A pore old blackymore rogue), When a dismal gent uprose,

And spoke with Hirish brogue: "I'm Smith O'Brine, of Royal Line, Descended from Rory Ogue.

"When great O'Connle died,

That man whom all did trust,
That man whom Henglish pride
Beheld with such disgust,
Then Erin free fixed eyes on me,
And swoar I should be fust.

"The glorious Hirish Crown,'
Says she, it shall be thine :
Long time, it's wery well known,
You kep it in your line;
That diadem of hemerald gem
Is yours, my Smith O'Brine.