I love a very pretty girl,
        Her name's Sally Sewing Cotton;
        Oh! isn't she a cherubim
        With her best Sunday frock on!
        My Sally has a lovely dress,
        With frills around the bottom,
        And when I first spied Sally,
        By jingo, I was struck!

   O my! she lodges at the sugar shop,
   O my! I guess that I'm in luck;
   O dear! she's sweet as any lollipop,
    I am in love with Sally, she is a darling duck.

The young man makes up to Sally in Regent-street,
is introduced to her mother, who keeps
a mangle; to her brother, who is a baker; and
Sally herself, who is "an anti-floral maker,"
accepts him:

      And on Sunday next at ten o'clock
      Both of us will be married,
      I'd rather it was to-morrow,
      For she's such a darling duck.
Chorus— O my! she lodges at the sugar shop, &c.

The German Band was another "immensely
popular song." The words were parodied in all
the burlesques at the theatres, the music was
played in every orchestra, and ground on every
organ; and this is a specimen of the poetry:

   Oh here you see a wretched man,
   Made more so by deception,
   I do forget what woes I can
   In utter sheer dejection;
   I married was to a sweet young girl,
   Lor' how I curse the morn
   That first I saw her, and so I wish
   I never had been born!
   I loved her, and she ought to have been
   The most happy in the land,
   But she loved a foreigner who blew a flageolet
   In the middle of a German band.

In the course of five more long verses we learn
that the name of the faithless woman was
Susannah, that she could knit, sing, or dance,
parley voo fransay, and, of course, play on the
cottage pianner; but with all these accomplishments
she had an incurable passion for a
foreigner who blew a flageolet in the middle of
a German band. Concerning this band and its
members, we learn that—

   The French horn was in C and the flageolet in G,
   And the rest of them all out of tune,
   But amid this awful row there was somehow
   One who won the heart of Susannah,
   Who stood laughing at the window while the
           German flageolet
   Winked at her in a most reckless manner.

The end of this most unhappy state of affairs
was that Susannah bolted with the flageolet,
taking away all her husband's "sticks." But
the song is not destitute of a moral. The
flageolet went for a "sojer" in America, and
was shot, and the injured husband consoled
himself thus:

   In battle he was killed by a shot in the back,
   But I've no need for caring,
   As the German flageolet is a cold corpse,
   While Susannah gets her living by charing.

The Jolly Dogs was so great a favourite as
to call for several sequels, such as the Jolly Cats
and the Jolly Cocks. I find the words of the
latter in the "Jolly Cocks' Song Book," with a
coloured illustration of the jolly cock on the
cover. The point of the song is, that everybody
bears some resemblance to a cock—the
lawyer, because he pecks at his clients;
the member of parliament, because he crows; and
the doctor, because he cocks his crest up. Thus:

   The doctor cocks his crest up
   If you tell him you're in pain,
   And does his best to gather up a heap of golden
         grain
   How gently he will handle you,
   Of which he has the knack,
   Until when you are beaten
   You are laid upon your back.
             Chorus.
   Then cock-a-doodle-doo,
    I'm a cock-a-doodle-doo,
   So come join with me in chorus,
   Every cock-a-doodle-doo.
(Spoken.) Now, a chro-nometrical crow, for the
doctor's chronometer. (Crows.)

"Fortey's edition" of new and popular songs
is recommended to the public, as containing
Sydney's great song of

WHO LIKES GRAVY ON THEIR TATERS?

Here is a verse:

   Dere was a man in ole Virginny
   And Steben was his name,
   Was wedlocked, had two piccanini,
   And was fader ob de same.
   Move along, Steben, artful ole son,
   One of the commentators;
   His argument it was dis one,
   Who likes gravy on their taters?

                                 Move along, Steben, &c.

No song of the season has been received with
so much favour as the Six Magnificent Bricks.
It is published in various forms, with and without
the music, and has been sung with unbounded
applause at all the music-halls. It
runs thus:

Myself and some friends, once thinking there would
   be no harm,
Went for a walk, a row walking arm-in-arm,
The night it was dark, the streets they were very
   calm,
When we went out for a spree.
Said Jones, Now, do what I tell you, my boys,
                                  Hurrah, hurrah!
Louder, for that isn't half a noise,
                                  Hurrah, hurrah!
Then we struck up the bagpipes once again
To let the people see
That we six magnificent bricks
Had made up our minds for a spree.

   Fal de loodle, fal de ral doodle um,
   Argh! argh! there's Sal and Methusalem.
   Argh! argh! they're gone to Jerusalem,
   Doodle um doodle um day.

The comic-song writer and the comic-song
singer, who are, in most cases, one and the same
person, have taken a great fancy lately to make
fun of the name of the sacred city, and as one
downward step in the path of impropriety leads