--You know the butter pays our rent,
And many another matter.
W.--I know that if the cows are starved
They won't get any fatter!
H.--I give the cows enough to eat.
W.--Well do, and hold your clatter.
H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, confound your noise,
'Twould shame a barrel organ.
W.--If I were half as loud as you,
I think it would, Old Morgan!
H.--Your temper, Jane, will drive me soon
To share a soldier's lot,
To march with gun and martial tune
'Midst powder, smoke, and shot.
W.--What! you a soldier? never, Mog!
Your heart is coward too,
You'll fight with no one but with me,
You've then enough to do!
H.--I'll go and fight the mighty Czar,
To aid the Turkish nation.
W.--Then go, a greater Turk than you
Breathes not within creation!
H.--For shame, to call your husband Turk.
W.--Such is my pledg'd relation.
H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, let's now shake hands
And we'll be henceforth friends.
W.--No, not till you have stopp'd will I,
Be still, or make amends.
SONG OF THE FOSTER-SON, LOVE.
BY REV. DANIEL EVANS, B.D.
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love,
From one endued with beauty from above.
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