THOSE HORRID HURDY-GURDIES!

A MONODY, BY A VICTIM

"MY mother bids me bind my hair,"

And not go about such a figure;

It’s a bother, of course, but what do I care?

I shall do as I please when I’m bigger.

"My lodging is on the cold, cold ground,"

As the first-floor and attic were taken.

I tried the garret but once, and found

That my wish for a change was mistaken.

"Ever of thee!" yes, "Ever of thee!"

They chatter more and more,

Till I groan aloud, "Oh! let me be!

I have heard it all before!"

"Please remember the organ, sir,"

What? hasn’t he left me yet?

I promise, good man; for its tedious burr

I never can forget.

1861.