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'Ask Mr Such-a-one, he told it me,
But by the bye, 'twas two black crows, not three'
Resolv'd to trace so wondrous an event,
Quick to the third, the virtuoso went:---
'Sir'---and so forth, 'Why yes, the thing is fact,
Though in regard to number, not exact;
It was not two black crows, 'twas only one,
The truth of that you may depend upon:
The gentleman himself told me the case.'
'Where may I find him?' 'Why in such a place.'
Away goes he, and having found him out,
'Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt;'
Then to his last informant he referr'd,
And begg'd to know if true what he had heard---
'Did you Sir, throw up a black crow?' 'Not I,'
'Bless me, how people propagate a lie!
Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one
And here I find all comes at last to none!
Did you say nothing of a crow at all?'
'Crow! crow! perhaps I might, now I recall
The matter o'er.' 'And pray, Sir, what was't?'
'Why, I was horrid sick, and at the last,
I did throw up, and told my neighbour so,
Something that was---as black Sir, as a crow!'
———
THE ORPHAN BOY.
Stay, Lady-stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless Orphan's tale;
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheeks so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy:
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an Orphan Boy!
