Tho' little thought he that his death was so nigh, Yet Peter by chance fetch'd him down from on high,

His shot was ramm'd down with a journal, I wist, The first time he charged so improper with Mist. Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Then on both sides the speeches began to be made, As I beg your acceptance-oh! no Sir indeed! I beg that you would Sir, -for both wisely knew, That one Snipe could ne'er be a supper for two, Derry down, down, hey derry down.

What the Friar declined in a most civil sort, Peter slipt in his pocket, the De'el take him

for't!

But were the truth known 'twould plainly appear, He oft-times had found a longer Bill there,

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Hid in his pocket the Snipe safely lay,

While a week did pass over his head, and a day, Till the ropes for a toast too offensive were

gown,

And were smelt out by every nose but his own. Derry down, down, hey derry down.

The Friar look'd wholesome it must be agreed,

So no one could say, whence the stink should proceed;

Where the stink might be laid, tho' no one could say, 'Tis certain he brought it and took it away.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

At sight of the Friar began the perfume,
And scarce he appear'd, but he scented the room:
Snuff-boxes were held in the highest esteem,
And all the wry faces were made when he came.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.

As the place he was in, it was call'd this and that; In his room 'twas a close-tool, or else a dead rat; In the fields where he walk'd for some carrion 'twas guess'd;

'Twas a fart, at the Angel, and pass'd for a jest. Derry down, down, hey derry down.

At length the suspicion fell thick on poor Tray, "Till he took to his heels and with speed ran away; Thought the Friar poor Tray, I'll remember thee

soon,

If I live to grow sweet, I will give thee a bone.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

For he knew that poor Tray was most highly

abused,

And if any, himself, thus deserved to be used:
For 'twas certainly he, whom else could he think;
Twas certainly he, that must make all the stink;
Derry down, down, hey derry down.

So when he came home he sat down on his bed,
His elbow at distance supported his head;
His body long while like a pendulum went;
But all he could do did not alter the scent.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Thus hypp'd, he got up, and pull'd off his cloaths, He peep'd in his breeches and smelt to his hose, And the very next morning, fresh. cloaths he put on,

All, all but a waistcoat, for he had but one.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

But changing his clothes did not alter the case, And so he stunk on for three weeks and three

days;

'Till to send for a Doctor he thought it most meet;. For though he was not, yet his life it was, sweet. Derry down, down, hey derry down..

The Doctor he came, felt his pulse in a trice;
Then crept at a distance to give his advice:
But sweating, nor bleeding, nor purging would do,
For instead of one stink, this only made two.
De ry down, down, hey derry down."

The Friar oft-times to his glass would repair,

But to death he was frighten'd whene'er he came

His eyes were so sunk, and he look'd so aghast,
He verily thought he was stinking his last

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

So for credit he hastens to burn all his prose,
And into the fire his verses he throws ;
When seaching his pockets to make up the pile,
He found out the Snipe, which had stunk all the
while,

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

So he hopes you will now think him wholesome again,

Since his waisicoat discovers the cause of his pain, To conclude, the poor Friar entreats you to note, That you might have been sweet had you been in his coat.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

A SONG OF SIMILIES.

By the Rev. Dr. Bacon.

"I've thought;" the fair Clarissa cries; "What is it like, Sir?"- Like your Eyes.' ""Tis like a' Chair- 'Tis like a Key — ""Tis like a Purge-'Tis like a Flea ""Tis like a Beggar like the Sun""Tis like the Dutch-'Tis like the Moon ""Tis like a Kilderkin of Ale

"Tis like a Doctor-like a Whale.

"Why are my Eyes, Sir, like a Sword?
"For that's the Thought upon my word.-
"Ah! witness ev'ry Pang I feel;

"The Deaths they give their Likeness tell.
"A Sword is like a Chair, you'll find,

"Because 'tis most an end behind.

""Tis like a Key, for 'twill undo one; ""Tis like a Purge, for 'twill run through one. ""Tis like a Flea, and Reason good, """Tis often drawing human Blood; Why like a Beggar, you shall hear, ""Tis often borne before the Mayor.