One day there came to visit Sally’s dad as sleek and smart
  A chap as ever wandered there from any foreign part. 
  Though his gentle birth and breeding he did not at all obtrude
  It was somehow whispered round he was a simon-pure Dude. 
  Howsoe’er that may have been, it was conspicuous to see
  That he was a real Gent of an uncommon high degree. 
  That Sally cast her tender and affectionate regards
  On this exquisite creation was, of course, upon the cards;
  But he didn’t seem to notice, and was variously blind
  To her many charms of person and the merits of her mind,
  And preferred, I grieve to say it, to play poker with her dad,
  And acted in a manner that in general was bad.

  One evening—­’twas in summer—­she was holding in her lap
  Her accordion, and near her stood that melancholy chap,
  Leaning up against a pillar with his lip in grog imbrued,
  Thinking, maybe, of that ancient land in which he was a Dude.

  Then Sally, who was melancholy too, began to hum
  And elongate the accordion with a preluding thumb. 
  Then sighs of amorosity from Sally L. exhaled,
  And her music apparatus sympathetically wailed. 
  “In the gloaming, O my darling!” rose that wild impassioned strain,
  And her eyes were fixed on his with an intensity of pain,
  Till the ranch-dog from his kennel at the postern gate came round,
  And going into session strove to magnify the sound. 
  He lifted up his spirit till the gloaming rang and rang
  With the song that to his darling he impetuously sang! 
  Then that musing youth, recalling all his soul from other scenes,
  Where his fathers all were Dudes and his mothers all Dudines,
  From his lips removed the beaker and politely, o’er the grog,
  Said:  “Miss Larkin, please be quiet:  you will interrupt the dog.”

IN HIGH LIFE.

  Sir Impycu Lackland, from over the sea,
  Has led to the altar Miss Bloatie Bondee. 
  The wedding took place at the Church of St. Blare;
  The fashion, the rank and the wealth were all there—­
  No person was absent of all whom one meets. 
  Lord Mammon himself bowed them into their seats,
  While good Sir John Satan attended the door
  And Sexton Beelzebub managed the floor,
  Respectfully keeping each dog to its rug,
  Preserving the peace between poodle and pug. 
  Twelve bridesmaids escorted the bride up the aisle
  To blush in her blush and to smile in her smile;
  Twelve groomsmen supported the eminent groom
  To scowl in his scowl and to gloom in his gloom. 
  The rites were performed by the hand and the lip
  Of his Grace the Diocesan, Billingham Pip,
  Assisted by three able-bodied divines. 
  He prayed and they grunted, he read, they made signs. 
  Such fashion, such beauty, such dressing, such grace
  Were ne’er before seen in that heavenly place! 
  That night, full of gin, and all blazing inside,
  Sir Impycu blackened the eyes of his bride.