A FORCE-IBLE LAY.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2611, 19 August 1882, Page 3

A FORCE-IBLE LAY.

As one in blue, I’m In a stew, I'm sure it is not nice ; Them remarks wot’e made in Parliament By Mr Johnny Bryce. He seems to think a hobby’s life Is merely grog and wittles, But I can tell him straight away, It ain’t all beer and skittles. For first we goes like this, And then we goes like that. When lo ! a blooming larrikin Knocks ns angular and flat. With due submission I must say We leads a trying life, We tramps the streets upon our beats And quells each rising strife. When fires breaks out we goes away, Impressively and grand, With Sergeant W—— in the lead The crowds to keep In band. We makes ’em stand like this— Then makes ’em stand like that— And keeps their toes from off the hose. Well knowing what we’ra at. Bat there’s one thing that bothers me Fn’iraly and completej In Deans’ wood we did no good, But ’twas decreed by fate. We scoured the country round and round. Each gorse bush and each brake ; But failed the sanguinary hound To either see or take. We’d have made him go like this, And fixed him np like that ; But failed to get the slightest show— Now, what dy’e think of that T

’Twas at the play the other day— I mean the other night— When Master Jewell was awful cruel, I thought I’d “ struck a bright A noisy fallow in the pit Began to swear and shout — When I rnahed in amidst the din. But failed to torn him out, Or make him stand like this, Or even go like that. Says he to me, with drunken glee, “ You don’t come it over Pat.”

I said, says I, ‘‘just mind your eye. Now boys oome give a hand, And off tha floor, straight through the door, Wo will the spalpeen land. ” Instead of which the surging crowd Began to joke and chaff, And make a passage for the man Then closed It with a laugh. Ob then I felt like this, 1 was as wild as that. And a small boy, with fiendish joy, He battered In my hat.

The Sunday trading of the pubs I never sees at all; I likes my beer, ’t is passing clear, And so too does ns all. The bona fide lodgers are A very numerous class, And Boniface is very good And often shouts a glass— Which I just drinks up like this, Or swailers down like that: “ What! split upon the pubs, old man ? I surely shan’t do that."

I’ve one remark to make before I closes this ’ore lay, When Johnny Bryce comes on his tour, Down Canterbury way, I’ll ask him just to don the bine, And perhaps he’ll get his fill In a row with grown up larrikins, Somewhere near Jenkins' mill. They'd knock him np like this, Or knock him down like that, And prove to cope with such a mob One mustn't be a flat.

Or perhaps he’ll don the Bedford cords And mount his famed white horse ; Taking a trip towards the plains. Instructing of the force. Then ride away t’wards Ellesmere’s lake, Mid’st pelting rain and sleet. Johnny, my boy ! that’s not so good As a Parliament a y seat. For then he’d cuss like this, And perhaps he’d swear Ilk* that, •Returning soon to Wellington As nervous as a cat.