Freedom, as every schoolboy knows, Once shrieked as Kosciusko fell; On every wind, indeed, that blows I hear her yell. She screams whenever monarchs meet…

'Twas a serious person with locks… And a figure like a crescent; His gravity, clearly, had come to… But his smile was evanescent. He stood and conversed with a neig…

Day of Satan’s painful duty! Dies… Earth shall vanish, hot and sooty;… So says Virtue, so says Beauty.… Ah! what terror shall be shaping… When the Judge the truth’s undrap…

Professor dear, I think it queer That all these good religions ('Twixt you and me, some two or th… Are schemes for plucking pigeons) I mean 'tis strange that every cha…

Welcome, good friend; as you have… And found the joy of crime to be a… I hope you’ll hold your present fa… And not again be open to convictio… Your sins, though scarlet once, ar…

Judge Shafter, you’re an aged man… And learned too, I doubt not, in… And a head white with many a winte… (I wish, however that your heart w… Claims reverence and honor; but th…

Hear me sing of Sally Larkin who,… Played accordions as well as any l… And I’ve often heard it stated th… That Professor Schweinenhauer was… And that beasts were so affected w…

DRAMATIS PERSONAE LELAND, THE KID _a Road Age… COWBOY CHARLEY _Same Line… HAPPY HUNTY _Ditto in All Re… SOOTYMUG _a Devil_

‘Sas agapo sas agapo,’ He sang beneath her lattice. 'Sas agapo’?' she murmured-'O, I wonder, now, what _that_ is!' Was she less fair that she did bea…

Not all in sorrow and in tears, To pay of gratitude’s arrears The yearly sum Not prompted, wholly by the pride Of those for whom their friends ha…

Cheeta Raibama Chunder Sen, The wisest and the best of men, Betook him to the place where sat With folded feet upon a mat Of precious stones beneath a palm,

'Tis the census enumerator A-singing all forlorn: It’s ho! for the tall potater, And ho! for the clustered corn. The whiffle-tree bends in the bree…

I drew aside the Future’s veil And saw upon his bier The poet Whitman. Loud the wail And damp the falling tear. 'He’s dead-he is no more!' one cri…

When Man and Woman had been made, All but the disposition, The Devil to the workshop strayed… And somehow gained admission. The Master rested from his work,

John S. Hittell, whose sovereign… The quill his tributary body yield… The author of an opera-that is, All but the music and libretto’s h… A work renowned, whose formidable…