Ireland

                     THE OLD

                    BEDSTEAD

IT was down in Bedfordshire,in an old fashioned town..
Stood an old fashined house that my father used to own ;
Both my father, and his father in the same old house ware-oom,
And from the windows. I have wanted the field of corn.
At Christmas time I offer made he
When a happy family party would all circle round the to ,
There was an old oak table and some good oil fashioned chairs.
With a good old oaken bed tead in a room up stairs.

Twas a four posted bedstend, but as solid as a rock.
And it stood in a room with an old Fashioned clock.
And a bright patchwork quilt near to the bed was spread,
But a rihe in the family, was the old edstead.

The curtains round the bedstead were as white as driven snew.
And of on the bedstead, mv mother did me throw.
Then I had to climb the arm chair, to get up in the bed,
With my toys I have passed hours do the old bedstead.
But those were days of infancy and childhood's happy hours,
That passes like the summer cloud, or like the fleeting showere,
In my fancy I can see the room where first I lay my head,
The patchwork quilt and curtain around the old bedstead.

When a boy I recolect my old granny being all,
How my good mother tried to keep us children stilt,
And I saw the kind of doctor go so gently to her bed,
Where he'd sit and talk to granny on the old bedstead ;
And I recollect the vicar, did my granny come to see,
Then I was quite a little boy it's like a dream to me.
Ah ! well do I remember, when her gentle spirit fled.
For, when dead, I saw her lying on the old bedstead.

            THE NOBLE 24™.

A story came one morning from a far and distant land,
The Savages bad massacred, a small but gallant band,
Gainst twenty thousand foreign foes 'mid thunder shot
          and shell.                                                   [fell.
Five hundred valiant English fought and nobly fighting
All honour to the twenty fourth of gloriour renown,
England avenge your countrymen and strike the foe-
          men down.
We fought at Balaclava and the glory ne'er will fade,
Of the great and brilliant action, of our splended Light
          Brigade;
And now we have to tell the tale that every nation know
Five hundred British soldiers slew fire thousand savage
          foes.
'Gainst overwhelming numbers with sabre and the gun.
They never flinch a mussel though they're forty foes to
          one;                                                       [ track;
Our soldiers soon will quickly march upon the despot's
Avenge their brave companions and they'll bring their
          colors back.
We weep for those who've fallen for their country and
          their Queen,
With everlasting honour we will keep their mem'ries greee
Their bravery from history shall never be effaced,
True English men in heart and soul though vanquished
                          not disgraced.

            HOME RULE

                  FOR

              IRELAND.

Printed by John White, Rose-place, Scotland-road,
  Liverpool. Shoos and Country Ord rs. supplied
          Cheaper than any house in the trade

IT IS many year ago in Ireland you must know,
         Since happiness sat down upon the land.
Her sons they once were free, and the star of liberty
Shone gloriously on every Irishman,
But let us bar the door on the days that are no more,
There's a light beaming open us from afar,
If you listen unto me, I will tell you, dy'e see,
The sentiments of Pat of Mulligan.
Then hurra for Erin's isle, her sons you can't beg alls,
Because you know the wolf is at the door ;
Let the flag once more be seen alott on College Green,
And Home Rule for Ireland evermore.
In London they can boast our Parliament is lost,
And say that we never should complain.
Would you have our hearts be gay when we know
this very day,
Our countrymen are rushing o'er the-main ;
Gladstone vow'd to be our friend, but we find out in the
end.
That he'd gag us and, coerce us, more and more,
But O'Connell he did say before he passed away,
Home Rule for old Erin's injured shore.
There was one, now in the grave, who struggled hard
to save
His country from oppression long ago,
Henry Giatton was his name, may heaven be his gain,
His energies for Ireland did bestbw.
His voice he never gava the people to enslave,
Or drive them to a strange and distant sl,ore ;
May the flowerets ever wave upon the hero's grave,
And Home Rule for Ireland evermore.
There's a laurel for the brow of one that's striving now
To bring our Legislature back again,
Mr. Parnell ever bold her miseries to unfold,
Ireland for the Irish will maintain; '
Then let us all unite to drink this toast to-night,
May happinesss re-visit Erin's shore,
From our humble cabin home, we should never wish to
roam,
So heres Home Rule for Ireland evermore.