POETRY.

MORE IMPRESSIONS OF JAN.

[SEE "SPECTATOR," APRIL 297n, 1876, p. 5594 Jan.—Wall, Gearge, my man, why what's up now ?

Ees, ees,—you'd need to mop your brow ; 'Tis plaguy hot, but zeem to I There's other vish for we to vry, And not goo muzzin' of our pant, And runnin' scores up on the zlaat,

For sake o' scraps o' greasy news.

Why doan't ee buy your childer shoes?

Gearge.—There, Jan, do lave a man aluone ; You'd wear yourself to skin and buone And all for what ? To rape the cam That villa ould Varmer Grumble's barn ; But I've a-lamed a man's a man,— To zlaave bain't God A'mighty's plan ; Besides, while you be mindin' ship, And hoein' zwedes, I gets a peep At vurrin' polliticks, and knaws

The draaft o' every wind that blaws.

You bain't no good, man, in Creation,— You ain't a had no eddication.

Jan.—There, Gearge, be quite ; no need to splutter,— I knaws which way to spread me butter ; Them polliticks, when all's a-zed, Doan't zeem to butter moast yokes' bread. Wull, what's your news?

Gearge.— We've done the Rooshians,

And zot back Turkey in her cushions. She be to lie, and smoake her pipe, While we do rule, and when 'tis ripe The pear 'all jest drop down our gullet.

We bain't such fools, I guess, to mull it.

We've got a party little bite, Jest for to whet our appetite,- Zyprus ;—but you doan't knaw 'en, p'raps, I zeed 1111 in my darter's maps.

By way of relish, why t'will do ;

We'll soon has Ashier Minor too,—

And what a blessin' for the world !

Wherever England's Flag's unfurled, No dawdlin' there ; for 'tis our waay T' eaploity, as the Vrench yoke saay, A country wi' abuses zwarmin', And moast eat up alive wi' varmin.

Jan.—That's very wull, Gearge, ef 'twull bide, Be other yokes quite sateesfied ?

Gearge.—Wull, Jan, 'tis true, the Greeks be maad To vind their &kills be SO bead; The Vrench, too, they be rarely zold, And Ettly settin' in the cold ; But Lor', don't matter what they zaay, For we be there, and mane to staay.

-Jan.—What o' the Congress ?

Gearge.— That's the joake,

Haaf o' their plans gone off in smoake ; They dressed so vine, and looked so smug, Paassed up and down a vriendly jug, Settled their business nigh, when rap Down comes the Zyprus thunderclap ; They sniggered, just to maake believe, Wi' Dizzy laafin' in ez sleeve.

-Jan.—Wull, Gearge, now I bain't quite a vool,

Tho' praps I ain't a.ben to school, And ef ye saay I caan't zee clear, 'Tain't cos me noddle's vuzzed wi' beer ; Why should us moil wi' dirty work, Jest for to saave thik laizy Turk?

Be my pore sojer buoy to vight To keep thay haythen zinners right.

T'wull need some tougher stuff than taap To lick they beggars into shaap.

That's nateral ; yokes as loves a cup Hey found it hard to gie it up.

Tharr, no offence, Gearge,—wull, d'ye see I'm all for rash'nal liberty ; And when do grow wi' time and tide, Why, then, my sun, 'tie like to bide ; But 'tain't no zort o' use, you knaw, To stick in stalk, and bid 'en gram.

Howsever, what's a-done's a-done, 'Twon't do for we to cut and run.

We're in vor't ; you and I'll be taxed, Be saran sure, and no leave axed.

We'll hae to work, man, double tides, Vur zelf, and haaf the world bezides.

'Pis hard ; but yet zay what ye can, 'Tis vine to be a Englishman ; Tho' thik there Dizzy, ef 'tis true, He bain't no better nor a Jew.

They Lunnon yokes knaws best ; but thar I cant but think there's zummat quare, In vollering jist ez beck and call, Who ain't no Englishman at all.

Tell ee what 'tis. I zees my way, He's vain to be a Dook, they zaay ; We'll gie'n a crown, and bid en goo, And maak en King o' Jericho.

And ef an English dook he'd bee, Whoy, call 'en Dook o' Coventry.

And now, Gearge, there's a chance for you ; Pack up, and off to Zyprus too, And,ev 'ee stays there, oonce a year

I'll zend ee out zome Darset beer.

S.