Johnny Hall.

Och, they've given ye the laid,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall,
But, begorra, I'm afraid,
Johnny Hall,
That yer Opposishun blowin',
An' yer bouncin' an' yer crowin',
Wid yer Atkinson an' Bowen,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall,
Won't put ye in at all,
Johnny Hall.

Ipon me sowl it's grand,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall,
To see ye take command,
Johnny Hall;
Of Pat-thri-ots so pure,
Who promise that they 'll cure
All the evils we indure,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall,
Whin the Governor does call
Johnny Hall.

Avick, machree! bedad,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall,
Sir George is mighty bad,
Johnny Hall;

Bekays he won't give way
An' second fiddle play;—
Yer a purty oup o' tay,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall,
It's a pity ye should fall,
Johnny Hall.

Yer argumints are sound.
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall;
It's only now we found,
Johnny Hall,
Sich varchues in the camp
Av the hayroes o' the "Swamp:"
Piako's purty damp,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall;
I think ye'll miss the ball,
Johnny Hall.

We thried ye oncet before,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall;
But niver any more,
Johnny Hall,
We'll pluck ye av yer sting;—
The dirty mud ye fling,
An' the charges that ye bring,
Johnny Hall, Johnny Hall;
Are mighty waik an' small,
Johnny Hall.

Whin Johnny concluded his lay, the boys called on Tom Dick for a song, an' that gintleman replied as follows:—Weel, ye see, ma freens, I'm no used to sing onything but Moody and Sankey's hymns, as I think profane sangs hae a tendency tae encourage sin. However, I will gie ye a stave or twa, composed by mysel, on the disgracefu performance witnessed in this city lately." Av coorse Misther Dick rote me down his remarks an' song, bekays I don't spaike Scotch, an' the following is the milody:—