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SONG OF | Il T. ticS HiCtNA1D. Ohtsher hair is dark as the midnight wave, And her eye is like kidding fire, And her voice IS sw eet as the spirits voice, That chords with tue serapl's Tyre. But her nails are as sharp as toasting

 fork And her arms arc as strong as hear's;z She pa!l'a my hair, and she goug 'd my eye, A nd she kick 'd me down the stairs. I've got an eye that's made of glass, And I've got me a wig that's new The wig is frizzled in corkscrew cnrls, And the eye is clouded blue. She may shake herknuckles full in my face, And put the lamp to my beard, And hold the broomstick over my head But Pm not bit afeard. For I've bound her overto keep the peace, And Eve bought me crab tree cane The Justice will come, and the Constable

 too,

 If she meddles with me again. My head vas a week in linen cap,

 My eye was month in the patch l never thought that the torch of love, Would light such birthstone match.

 REPLY. Oh! his face is as red as the dog day sun In misty sunset sky, And the tip Of his nose'is burning coal, You might light your candle by. His eye was goug d by two:quart jug, That crack'u across his nose, And his other has taken rainbow hue From his pot companions blows. He stumbled against the red hot grate, And the grate returned tlle blow, And the lamp that singed his grisly beard Was the Lehgh coal below. I've emptied his bottles of liquor, free As the flow Of Autumn rain; And the Sheriff will come, and the Jaior

 too,

 If he fills them up again. He has lost his scalp-he has lost his eye-- And his face is grim with blows; And-the eariy iiigHt iiig, Of our lamp is chang'd By the light of tipler's nose