"Quarrelsome Scott," and Martin Dick, Bill Hook, and little Tommy Grout Dan Simpson, that, with Peter Dodd, Where are they now?-an open war Brave Soame sends cheeses out in trucks, They tell me Cocky Hawes's sword And as for "Fighting Jim,” Quarrelsome Scott is in the church, For Ryder now your eye must search # The marts of silk and lace Bird's drums are filled with figs, and mute, And I-I've got a substitute To Soldier in my place! "NAPOLEON'S MIDNIGHT REVIEW." A NEW VERSION. In his bed, bolt upright, The French Emperor starts like a ghost! To the stable he glides, For the charger he rides; And he mounts him, still under the spell; Then, with echoing tramp, They proceed through the camp, All intent on a task he loves well Such a sight soon alarms, And the guards present arms, As he glides to the posts that they keep; Then he gives the brief word, And the bugle is heard, Like a hound giving tongue in its sleep. Next the drums they arouse, And they give but a somnolent sound; Whilst the foot and horse, both, Very slowly and loth, Begin drowsily mustering round. To the right and left hand, In a line that might better be dress'd; And the lancers think odd To be rous'd like the spears from their rest. With their mouths of wide shape, Heavy guns look more heavy with sleep; Seem to think it one more In the night such a field day to keep. Then the arms, christened small, But go off, like the rest, in a doze ; Tuck their heads 'neath their wings, Till each pupil of Mars Takes a wink like the stars Open order no eye can obey: If the plumes in their heads Were the feathers of beds, Never top could be sounder than thɛy! So, just wishing good night, Bows Napoleon, polite; To reply with a cheer; Not a sound met his ear, Though each face seem'd to say "Nap for ever!" |