FOR PROFESSOR CHILD'S COLLECTION.

[This mournful ballad was sung by a goody, who said that it had been handed down among the goodies from generation to generation.]

THERE was a young gintleman in Howlwurrthee

An' his name was Mishter Green.

In all ither room I swept and claned,

There was no sich a quare spalpeen.

Och wurra, wurra, wurra, theadigh taof theadh vocathe.

Furr he was a lurned gintleman,

An' would rade an' wroite almost daily

An' he had a certhificate sthuck up on the wall

Which was wrote boy the Shakspere shillaly.

Refrain as above.

One mornin' I found him moighty riled,

'Bout the way the Bosser was thraited,

An' he towld me I'd see the way he'd spake up,

Begorra! if ownly I waited.

Refrain as above.

An' shure an' he showed me a beautiful pace

An' also a serious shtory,

An' a sarmon or two jist boy the way,

Foiner thin any of Faither Mallory.

Refrain as above.

An' when he saw how deloited I samed

He smoiled an' he giv' me a shillin',

"Furr," says he, "ye're an appreciative characther,

Of all goodies I know the most willin."

Refrain as above.

Soon after 'tis a yell in room I hearrd,

An' I run to see 'bout that goody's frind.

Och! th' unhappy mavourneen had howld iv a poeker-

His chum's 'twas - by the rid hot end!