(Sweet Venus, mother!) Sinks swooning in a lady-swoon (Ah me! ah me!

_Dum diddle dee_!)

What profits it to rise i' the dark?

Ah me! ah me!

(Sweet Venus, mother!) If love but over-soar its mark (Ah me! ah me!

_Hey diddle dee_!)

What boots to fall again forlorn?

Ah me! ah me!

(Sweet Venus, mother!) Scorned by the grinning hound of scorn, (Ah me! ah me!

_Dum diddle dee_!)

Art thou not greater who art less?

Ah me! ah me!

(Sweet Venus, mother!) Low love fulfilled of low success?

(Ah me! ah me!

_Hey diddle dee_!)

_Anonymous_.

THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG

Out on the margin of moonshine land, Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs, Out where the whing-whang loves to stand, Writing his name with his tail on the sand, And wiping it out with his oogerish hand; Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs.

Is it the gibber of gungs and keeks?

Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs, Or what _is_ the sound the whing-whang seeks, Crouching low by the winding creeks, And holding his breath for weeks and weeks?

Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs.

Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things!

Tickle me, love, in these lonesome ribs, 'Tis a fair whing-whangess with phosphor rings, And bridal jewels of fangs and stings,

_James W. Riley_

OH! WEARY MOTHER

The lilies lie in my lady's bower, (Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost;) They faintly droop for a little hour; My lady's head droops like a flower.

She took the porcelain in her hand, (Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost;) She poured; I drank at her command; Drank deep, and now--you understand!

(Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost.)

_Barry Pain_.

SWISS AIR

I'm a gay tra, la, la, With my fal, lal, la, la, And my bright-- And my light-- Tra, la, le. [_Repeat_.]

Then laugh, ha, ha, ha, And ring, ting, ling, ling, And sing, fal, la, la, La, la, le. [_Repeat_.]

_Bret Harte_.

_THE BULBUL_

The bulbul hummeth like a book Upon the pooh-pooh tree, And now and then he takes a look At you and me, At me and you.

Kuchi!

Kuchoo!

_Owen Seaman_.

_BALLAD_

_With an Ancient Refrain_

O stoodent A has gone and spent, With a hey-lililu and a how-low-lan All his money to a Cent, And the birk and the broom blooms bonny.

His Creditors he could not pay, With a hey-lililu and a how-low-lan, And Prison proved a shock to A, And the birk and the broom blooms bonny.

_Anonymous_.

OH, MY GERALDINE

Oh, my Geraldine, No flow'r was ever seen so toodle um.

You are my lum ti toodle lay, Pretty, pretty queen, Is rum ti Geraldine and something teen, More sweet than tiddle lum in May.

Like the star so bright That somethings all the night, My Geraldine!

You're fair as the rum ti lum ti sheen, Hark! there is what--ho!

From something--um, you know, Dear, what I mean.

Oh! rum! tum!! tum!!! my Geraldine.

_F.C. Burnand_.