WERY PEKOOLIAR, OR THE LISPING LOVERS.

Have you e’er been in love,—If you havn’t, I have,
To the little God Koopid I’ve been a great thlave,
He thot in my bothom, a quiver of arrowth,
Like thmall naughty boyth, thoot Cock Robinth and Thparrowth,
My heart wath ath pure ath the white alabathter,
Till Koopid, my bothom, he did over mathter,
Then tell me, ye Godth! how I love one Mith Thulia,
There wath thomething about her tho vewy pekooliar.

We firtht met at a ball, where our handth did entwine,
Where I did thweedge her fingerth, and the did thweedge mine;
When for my necth partner, I ventured to preth her,
When I fount that the lithped, when the anthered me “Yeth, thir.”
Now in lithping, I think, there ith thomething uncommon,
And I loveth in partickler, the lithph of a woman,
And I’m thure you’d have liked the lithph of Mith Thulia,
There wath thomething about it tho vewy pekooliar.

Like a beautiful peach, wath the cheek of Mith Thulia,
And then, in her eye, there wath thomething pekooliar.
Thpeaking volumeth, it darted, each glanthe to one’th marrow,
Ath keen and ath thwift, ath the wicked boy’th arrow.
A thlight catht in her eye,—to her lookth added vigour,
A catht in the eye, often tendth to dithfigure:
But not though the catht in the eye of Mith Thulia,
There wath thomething about it tho vewy pekooliar.

Good friendth, we oft met, midth thmileth and midth tearth,
I courted her nearly for three or four yearth,
I took her to playth, and to ballth—O! ye Powerth.
How thweetly and thwiftly did then path my hourth;
But oneth—oh, e’en now—I my feelingth can’t thmother,
The danthed, all the evening, along with another,
I didn’t thay nothing that night to Mith Thulia,
Though I couldn’t help thinking ‘twath vewy pekooliar.

I went necth day to thcold her, when the, to my heartth core,
Cut me up by requesting I’d come there no more;
That I thould be affronted, if longer I tarried,
For, necth week, to another, the wath to be married.
“Godth! Thulia,” thaid I, “why you cannot thay tho?”
“Oh yeth, but I do Thir,—tho you’d better go.”
“Well, I thall go,” thaid I, “but you’ll own it, Mith Thulia,
Your behaviour to me hath been vewy pekooliar.”

(Spoken) Vewy pekiiliar, vewy pekooliar indeed;
and from that day to thith, I have never theen Thulia. Her behaviour to me wath thertainly vewy pekooliar!

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