Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,
    And your senses with toothache you’re losing,
  Don’t be mopy and flat—­they don’t fine you for that,
    If you’re properly quaint and amusing! 
  Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,
    And took with her your trifle of money;
  Bless your heart, they don’t mind—­they’re exceedingly kind—­
    They don’t blame you—­as long as you’re funny! 
      It’s a comfort to feel
        If your partner should flit,
      Though you suffer a deal,
        They don’t mind it a bit—­
  They don’t blame you—­so long as you’re funny!

THE PHILOSOPHIC PILL.

  I’ve wisdom from the East and from the West,
    That’s subject to no academic rule: 
  You may find it in the jeering of a jest,
    Or distil it from the folly of a fool. 
  I can teach you with a quip, if I’ve a mind! 
    I can trick you into learning with a laugh;
  Oh, winnow all my folly, and you’ll find
    A grain or two of truth among the chaff!

  I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,
    The upstart I can wither with a whim;
  He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,
    But his laughter has an echo that is grim. 
  When they’re offered to the world in merry guise,
    Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will—­
  For he who’d make his fellow creatures wise
    Should always gild the philosophic pill!

THE CONTEMPLATIVE SENTRY.

  When all night long a chap remains
    On sentry-go, to chase monotony
  He exercises of his brains,
    That is, assuming that he’s got any,
  Though never nurtured in the lap
    Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
  I am an intellectual chap,
    And think of things that would astonish you. 
      I often think it’s comical
        How Nature always does contrive
      That every boy and every gal
        That’s born into the world alive
      Is either a little Liberal,
        Or else a little Conservative! 
              Fal lal la!

When in that house M.P.’s divide,
If they’ve a brain and cerebellum, too. 
They’re got to leave that brain outside. 
And vote just as their leaders tell ’em to. 
But then the prospect of a lot
Of statesmen, all in close proximity. 
A-thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity. 
Then let’s rejoice with loud Fal lal
That Nature wisely does contrive
That every boy and every gal
That’s born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative! 
Fal lal la!

SORRY HER LOT.

Sorry her lot who loves too well,
Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,
Had are the sighs that own the spell
Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly;
Heavy the sorrow that bows the head
When Love is alive and Hope is dead!