POETRY.

HODGE ON THE IRISH QUESTION.

THOUGHT as it all were over, an' ere we're at it again, Jus' like last long winter, wi' snow, an' slushin', an' rain, Niver no end but a muddle, an' not a word o' the cow As they promised me last Elekshun ; ther's nun sez ort o' it now.

An' all for wot P them Irish, as niver at 'ome 'all stay, Sworms out 'ere like rabbets, a' eatin' up poor folks' pay : An' yet they wonts 'Omerule. Yer stay at 'ome, sez I ; We too 'as to live, as we'll show it yer by an' bye.

Can't mak' out wot it means : ther's Gladstun all for 'em now, As once he wer' all agen 'em, jus' like a dissolvin' show. Thinks, he's gettin' too old, like Grandfather. Just 'is way, Cussing the yung 'uns for n(o)ise, then spilin"em all next day.

Thinks, he's summat like parson, as oilers 'as sum new craze, Joos, or niggers, or Injuns, for 'oom he preaches an' prays ; An' share as he sez as summat 'all happen, you bet it fails, "Heads," he cries, for iver, an' th' hapenny cams down "tails."

Irish P He doant know th' Irish ; he niver worked in a field 'Long wi' a gang on 'em, else he'd know do'sn't do to yield Jus' becos o' ther talkin' ; they'l argyer a hole nite long : Wonts to show a bit curridge, an' put yer foot down strong.

Doan't do showin' afraid : if yer ridin' a wishus mare, Keep yer grip o' the reins, or she'l tumble yer off sumwher'. Jim sez, " Gi' em 'Omerule ;" he's an easy fellow, is Jim : " Get 'Omerule for yersen," sez I,—his wife rules 'im.

Wimmen is just like th' Irish. Yer let 'em open a door Only an inch, they'l do yer ; yer'l ne'er get rid on 'em more. When a' shoud say, " keep civil," or" clang it ;" but wot's the use Teechin' a critter like Jim, as ain't the pluck o' a goose P Lick 'em, an' then they'l love yer ! But bless us, an' oo cams 'ere ?

Hanged if it aint that feller, as weedled my voat last year !

An' I paid for it all thro' winter. Ther's Squoire, he larnt sumhow-

Lawyers can see thro' ballot—an' made a 'ell of a row.

An' then, wen he wer' our Member, I ne'er got site o"im more ; An' toles was goin' at Crismas, an' none on 'em cum to my door, An' farmer cut off the milk ; an' parson, he turns 'is nose Uppards, as I wer a midden, an' then Inks down at 'is tose.

An' wot's the good o' losin' yer frends, as 'as been yer frends ? An' t'other to give yer nothin', but soon as elekshun ends, Packin"is carpet bag, wi' his talk an' oil on 'is tang, Leave yer to starve P " Well, zur ?" " Ole freed—" " Ole freed " be hung !

" What did yer do for me last seshun ?" "The grand ole man Sez, as yer turn is cumin' ; he's got the doose of a plan. Hush ! 'twoudn't do to tell it ; if once them Tory's know, Sartin as he sez ' Yes,' Lord Randy 'ull say yer No ;'

Only yer stik to Gladstun !" " Ali, so per sed last time, An' didn't I stik to 'im fast, as fast as a bird in lime ? An' a lot o' good it did me. Confound yer promises all ! Promises, nort but promise, an' th' weaker goes to th' wall.

Now it is all them Irish—I reads my paper, yer see— Parnell as gives yer truble, so all on yer goes for he; An' next it 'ull be sum other, Dissenter, or God knows 'oo, An' then yer'l go at the Church, like 'minds wi' a 'ollabaloo ; Nothin' for me ! Wot say yer ?" "I'm jest a kind of a ass !" "An' how long woe it ago, Zur, since you too cum'd from grass ? I'm but sayin' as you did, an' Gladstun did, before ; Gi"em the same as England, but niver a hapenny more !" ".Ah, but its trooth an' justiss !' That's all very foine to say, I knows trooth an' jostles, tho' they niver was born in a day : It's all lyin' an' party, and shifts to 'Yes' from ' No ;' An' confound both yer parties, as brort us to this 'ere go !"