MAD TOM'S SONG. THE great round moon !-tu-whit! tu-whoo! And I dash off the stars from its sides like spray! Were you ever at sea when the waves ran high, And the ships of a nation went tumbling by? Did hear the cries of the seamen bold? you Did you hear the squeaking of rats in the hold? But what is a voyage along the sea, To lilting thro' all the sky with me, Over the clouds and the rainbow's rim, Over the tops of the seraphim? The great round moon! tu-whit! tu-whoo! Yet better loves she the frosty night, When the icicles round her are clanking bright, Better loves she the snow and the hail, Away! away! before the wind! That long-tailed comet is far behind; The great round moon! tu-whit! tu-whoo! Men flatter a lordling who comes into place, If they rode on the moon thro' the boundless blue, They would join in my chorus-tu-whit! tu-whoo! They would alter their notions of virtue and sin, And weigh 'gainst their world the head of a pin! SIX WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE. I DON'T care three-and-sixpence now For anything in life; My days of fun are over now, I'm married to a wife. I'm married to a wife, my boys, And that, by Jove!'s no joke! I've eat the white of this world's egg, And now I've got the yolk. I'm sick of sending marriage cake, I care not now for white champagne, Blue coats are all blue bores to me, And Limerick gloves or kid. And as for posting up and down, It adds to all my ills; At every paltry country town I wish you saw the bills! Their smirking says they do, And charge me as the Scots Greys charged The French at Waterloo. I've grown, too, quite an idle rogue, I only eat and drink; Reading with me is not in vogue, I wonder if this state be what Much worse than too much salt; I'd rather read, from end to end, "Southennan," by John Galt. O! when I was a bachelor I was as brisk 's a bee, And languidly sip tea, And light my bedroom taper. O! when I was a bachelor I always had some plan, And now that I am so at last O! when I was a bachelor Were I to walk six miles an hour Yet after all, I must confess, Of getting o'er life's jolting road Until my dying day, Which would have been to err at least As much the other way. |