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ODE TO FORTUNE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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ODE TO FORTUNE.

Fair lady with the bandaged eye!
I'll pardon all thy scurvy tricks,
So thou wilt cut me, and deny
Alike thy kisses and thy kicks:
I'm quite contented as I am,
Have cash to keep my duns at bay,
Can choose between beefsteaks and ham,
And drink Madeira every day.
My station is the middle rank,
My fortune—just a competence—
Ten thousand in the Franklin Bank,
And twenty in the six per cents.;
No amorous chains my heart enthrall,
I neither borrow, lend, nor sell;
Fearless I roam the City Hall,
And “bite my thumb” at Sheriff Bell.

James L. Bell, the High Sheriff of the County.


The horse that twice a week I ride,
At Mother Dawson's

Robert Dawson, the keeper of a livery stable at No. 9 Dey Street.

eats his fill;

My books at Goodrich's

A. T. Goodrich & Co., booksellers at the corner of Broadway and Cedar Street, who kept a popular circulating library.

abide,

My country-seat is Weehawk hill;

312

My morning lounge is Eastburn's shop,
At Poppleton's I take my lunch,
Niblo prepares my mutton-chop,
And Jennings

Chester Jennings, the lessee of the City Hotel, on Broadway, between Cedar and Thames Streets.

makes my whiskey-punch.

When merry, I the hours amuse
By squibbing Bucktails, Guards, and Balls,
And when I'm troubled with the blues,
Damn Clinton and abuse canals:
Then, Fortune! since I ask no prize,
At least preserve me from thy frown!
The man who don't attempt to rise,
'Twere cruelty to tumble down.
H. and D.