"Give me a Horse-bind up my wounds," The woman starting at these sounds, In came the man, who having bow'd, The man jump'd back-the woman scream'd, For both were sore afraid; A bedlamite our spouter seem'd, And like Octavian said, "I cannot sleep," and wherefore pray ?" "The leaves are nearly pull'd;" This said, the woman walk'd away, Until his frenzy cool'd, But Buckram gave his bill and so He was resolved to stay "P'll hug't-will glut on it."-"Oh no, I'd rather, Sir, you'd pay. MISCELLANIES. "Reptile?" The exclamation shocks, Great were the tailor's fears; "I'll dash thy body o'er the rocks," The man pull'd out his shears. "I'll grapple with thee thus," he cried, And soon the shears he won; The tailor was so terrified, JACK OF PLYMOUTH DOCK. A SONG. I'M honest Jack of Plymouth Dock, For fear I never knew. Tho' breakers strike, the vessel reel, My timbers never start; For honest Jack of Plymouth Dock, Is to his post sincere, He disregards the loudest shock, But when distress, that biting shark, Has laid a comrade low, The first am I, indeed, t'embark, And take the wretch in tow, To see, perhaps, a bosom friend No, honest Jack of Plymouth Dock By flattery he scorns to mock, With help he loves to cheer. |