Ii

Lemon has a coat of frieze, But all so seldom Lemon wears it, That it is a prey to fleas, And ev'ry moth that's hungry, tears it. Oh, that coat's the coat for me, That braves the railway sparks and breezes, Leaving ev'ry engine free To smoke it, till its owner sneezes! Then my Lemon, round and fat, L., my bright, my right, my tight 'un, Think a little what you're at-- On Tuesday first, come down to Brighton!

T. SPARKLER.