to another, he is generally driven to rhyme it
with "Methusalem." One favourite song of the
people runs:

My old horse he comes from Jerusalem,
                                     Comes from Jerusalem,
                                     Comes from Jerusalem.
He stepped so high that they put him in a
     musee-um,
                                      Down in Alabam.

But it is not often that the nonsense is so funny
as this.

In the Swells' Songster, the latest monster
budget of popular songs, may be found among
the latest novelties, Sal and Methuselah, a verse
of which runs thus:

You must know that Sal was a smart young gal,
And her fame had travelled far,
And an oyster-stand she kept in the Strand,
Not a mile from Temple Bar,
Her lover rose up each morning at five,
And he dressed by the light of a star,
He was a dog destroyer at a sausage-machine,
    This young Methuselah.

                    Chorus.
       The lady was fair, let me declare,
            The gent tall and muscular,
       And held in respect by one and all
            Were Sal and Methuselah.

Nothing on the earth beneath, or in the heavens
above, is sacred to the popular song writer when
he wants to adorn his lyrical tale of Sal the
oyster-wench with a rhyme.

A comic singer, who calls himself "the great,"
and who is said to have made a fortune by singing
Slap-bang, lately introduced a song, which he
sings in character, called Costermonger Joe.
He imitates the voice and manner of a costermonger
calling his wares in the street, relates
how all the girls were in love with him, and
at the end of each verse proudly invites the
audience to sing with him. in chorus:

           I'm costermonger Joe,
           I'm costermonger Joe.

I have seen a hall full of staid middle-aged
respectable-looking people of both sexes, all
declaring at the top of their voices that they
were Costermonger Joe. There is another
comic singer who calls himself "The Jolly,"
who has made a great fame in the music-hall
sphere by singing Jog along, Boys. It is recommended
as a song suitable for the drawing-room,
and here is a specimen:

     From me no doleful dirge you'll hear,
     To make you sad or leave you queer;
     But if you're dull, this chant of mine
     Will wake you up like sparkling wine.
          Ups and downs in life I've seen,
          Lucky and unlucky been;
          But wrong or right, or right or wrong,
          This is the burden of my song—
    Jog along, jog along, jog along, boys,
    Jog along, boys, with a rattle and noise.
    Jog along, jog along, jog along, boys,
    Jog along, boys, hurrah!

I have seen a jolly gentleman in full evening
costume, including brand-new white kid gloves,
come on to sing this, telling the audience that
he composed the chorus expressly for them,
and begging them to join in. I think I see in
the verse given above the true answer to my
query, "Whence the extraordinary popularity
of these absurd songs?" They all have choruses,
in which the audiences may join with Slap bang,
a rattle and a noise, Jerusalem, or some other
catch line of the kind, which tickles the ear
without penetrating to the understanding.

Three of the most popular songs at the
present time are Mincemeat, Hunkey Dorum,
and the Mousetrap Man. In the first:

My sweetheart was not a beauty bright,
Nor yet outright a perfect fright,
She was only cook to a barrownite,
     And her name was Polly Ann;
When her onions she peeled I could almost cry,
     As adoring before her I knelt,
But when she chopped mincemeat at Christmas time,
     What tranquil enjoyment I felt!
     While her mincemeat knife went
Chop chop chop, chop chop chop chop, chop chop,
     While her mincemeat knife went
Chop chop chop, chopety chopety chop.

Now, then, all together:

            Chop, chop chop, &c.

Hunkey Dorum will show the degeneration
which has taken place in negro songs:

     I went out one day for a lark,
          Hunkey Dorum, we am de boys,
     I met a lubly gal in de park,
          Hunkey Dorum, doodle dum day.

Of course the gal behaves shamefully, with a

         Hunkey Dorum, doodle dum day.

I will not inflict the Mousetrap Man upon
the patience of the reader; but I may remark
that the music (which is very pretty) is played
in drawing-rooms. If a young lady wants
the piece, she must ask for it by the name of
the Mousetrap Man; and on perusing it, she will
learn how Miss Scratchem from Itchin kicked
out her young man, slammed the door in his face,
sent him adrift with a flea in his ear, "guv him
turnips," whatever that may mean, and bolted
with the mousetrap man, singing,
          Mousetraps! mousetraps, who'll buy?

At a "first-class music-hall" the other evening,
I heard a gentlemanly-looking youth singing
about a man with a carpet-bag. Personating
the man with the carpet-bag, the singer
boasted of his rogueries—how he had made
his trousers out of his landlady's sheets, swindled
a hotel-keeper, bolting with the plate, and leaving
his carpet-bag stuffed with bricks. When
he is brought before the judge, he tells that
functionary, "if there warn't such chaps as us
there would be nothing for you to do." This
clever retort was received with great applause.
Another song by this genteel young man had
for its chorus (in which the audience joined),

          Larry doodle dumpy
          Doodle, doodle day,
     With a bundle rolled in her apron.

The bundle rolled in an apron was a baby,
which was foisted upon the young man by a