rollicking ditty, and were reinforced by the whole crew, at the end of each stanza, in a rousing chorus.

By the time the last stanza was reached, the half-drunken enthusiasm had risen to such a pitch, that everybody joined in and sang it clear through from the beginning, producing a volume of villainous sound that made the rafters quake. These were the inspiring words: —

‘Bien Darkman’s then, Bouse Mort and Ken,

The bien Coves bings awast,

On Chates to trine by Rome Coves dine

For his long lib at last.

Bing’d out bien Morts and toure, and toure,

Bing out of the Rome vile bine,