dog-grel verses, by a poor blind.

“hark! hark! the dogs do bark,

the beggars are coming....”—old ballad.

oh what shall i do for a dog?

of sight i have not got a particle,

globe, standard, or sun,

times, chronicle—none

can give me a good leading article.

a mastiff once led me about,

but people appeared so to fear him—

i might have got pence

without his defence,

but charity would not come near him.

a blood-hound was not much amiss,

but instinct at last got the upper;

and tracking bill soames,

and thieves to their homes,

i never could get home to supper.

a fox-hound once served me as guide,

a good one at hill and at valley;

but day after day

he led me astray,

to follow a milk-woman’s tally.

a turnspit once did me good turns

at going and crossing, and stopping;

till one day his breed

went off at full speed,

to spit at a great fire in wapping.

[pg 189]

a pointer once pointed my way,

but did not turn out quite so pleasant,

each hour i’d a stop

at a poulterer’s shop

to point at a very high pheasant.