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PORTRAIT OF A BOY AFTER TEN YEARS (TENIERS). LINES TO MR. BUNN.

BY RALPH RIGMAROLE, ESQUIRE.

Hail, little man!—Let eome what may,

Your losses won't be great—if any, Bunn: For, if there's truth in what folks say,

To bless yourself you've scarce a penny-Bunn!

But, then the proverb tells a man,

That nothing doth from nothing come, Bunn: Oh! fatal truth!—for, on this plan,

You never will be worth a plumb-Bunn.

78

LINES TO MR. BUNN.

For, go upon the thriftiest scale,

You certainly must make a botch, Bunn; And this wild spec of yours must fail,

Though you’re as hard as any Scotch-Bunn.

Sad is
your
task:

:-your temper's meek;
Yet oft, I fear, you'll have to rave and toss, Bunn;
Each week will be a passion-week,
And

you an everlasting cross-Bunn.

Fly to the country ere too late;

And there, devoid of every jeal'sy, Bunn, On your annuity*_not great

Live like a pensioner-a Chelsea-Bunn.

Take
my

advice-be wise now, come,
'Ere you're reduced quite to a lath, Bunn;
Go down to Brighton-Cheltenham-

Any where—but London-go to Bath-Bunn.

* According to “Figaro in London ” this gentleman possesses an annuity of £42. 12s. 9d.

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