The Whigs about the sugar prate!
They do not care one dump
About the blacks and their sad state--
_Just please to pass the lump_!

Those niggers, for their sufferings here,
Will angels be when dying;
Have wings, and flit above us--dear--
_Why, how those blacks are flying_!

The Whigs are in a state forlorn;
In fact, were ne'er so low:
They make a fuss about the corn--
_My love, you're on my toe_!

The Whigs the timber duty say
They will bring down a peg;
More wooden-pated blockheads they!
_Fetch me my wooden leg_!

* * * * *


COURT CIRCULAR.

Deaf Burke took an airing yesterday afternoon in an open cart. He was
accompanied by Jerry Donovan. They afterwards stood up out of the rain
under the piazzas in Covent Garden. In the evening they walked through the
slops.