Horace Smith and James Smith

Midnight, yet not a nose
From Tower Hill to Piccadilly snored!

Midnight, yet not a nose
From Tower Hill to Piccadilly snored!

I saw them go; one horse was blind,
The tails of both hung down behind,
Their shoes read more

I saw them go; one horse was blind,
The tails of both hung down behind,
Their shoes were on their feet.

Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,

Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,

For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
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For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
Whose sons unaccustom'd to rebel commotion,
Tho' joyous, are sober--tho' peaceful, are brave.

The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of knowledge
By woman were pluck'd, and she still wears the prize
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The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of knowledge
By woman were pluck'd, and she still wears the prize
To tempt us in theatre, senate, or college--
I mean the love-apples that bloom in the eyes.
- Horace Smith and James Smith,