All round the world while I've a head,

However I may chance to be

Without a home-without a shed,

My tile shall be a roof to me.
Black, rusty grey, devoid of pelt,
A shocking shape or beaten flat,
Still there are joys that may be felt
All round my hat, all round my hat!

The Quaker loves an ample brim,

A hat that bows to no salam

And dear the beaver is to him

As if it never made a dam.

All men in drab he calleth friends; But there's a broader brim than thatGive me the love that comprehends All round my hat, all round my hat!

The Monarch binds his brows in gold, With gems and pearls to sparkle there ;

But still a hat, a hat that's old,

They say is much more easy wear.

At regal state I'll not repine

For Kaiser, King, or Autocrat,

Whilst there's a golden sun to shine All round my hat, all round my hat!

The Soldier seeks the field of death,
He fights, he fires, he faints, he falls,—
To gain an airy laurel wreath,

With berries made of musket balls.

No love have I for shot and shell,

With hissings sharp that end in flatChafers and gnats sing just as well All round my hat, all round my hat!

As yet, my hat, you've got a crown;
A little nap the brush can find;
You are not very, very brown,
Nor very much scrubb'd up behind.
As yet your brim is broad and brave,
I took some little care of that,
By not saluting ev'ry knave

All round my hat, all round my hat!

As yet, my hat, I've got a house,
And dine as other people do,

And fate propitious still allows

A home for me—a peg for you.

But say my bread were but a crumb,

Myself as poor as any rat―

Why,

I could

66 cry, Good people, come

All round my hat, all round my hat!"

As yet the best of womankind

Continues all that wife should be,
And in the self-same room I find,
Her bonnet and my hat agree.

But say the bliss should not endure,
That she should turn a perfect cat,
I'd trust to time to bring a cure,
All round my hat, all round my hat!

No acres broad pertain to me

To furnish cattle, coal, or corn;

Like people that are born at sea,

There was no land where I was born :

Yet, when my flag of life is furl'd

What landlord can do more than that? I'll leave my heir the whole wide world All round my hat, all round my hat!

BEN BLUFF.

A PATHETIC BALLAD.

Pshaw, you are not on a whaling voyage, where everything that offers is game."-The Pilot.

BEN BLUFF was a whaler, and many a day

Had chased the huge fish about Baffin's old Bay;

But time brought a change his diversion to spoil,
And that was when Gas took the shine out of Oil.

He turn'd up his nose at the fumes of the coke,
And swore the whole scheme was a bottle of smoke:
As to London he briefly deliver'd his mind,

66

Sparmacity," said he-but the City declined.

So Ben cut his line in a sort of a huff,

As soon as his Whales had brought profits enough, And hard by the Docks settled down for his life, But, true to his text, went to Wales for a wife.