CONSTITUTIONAL DIRGE.
COSTUME.—Members to appear in black or faded crape cravats, tobacco-boxes in the shape of patent coffins, the end of the pipes to be put in mourning, with black sealing wax, white pocket handkerchiefs (if convenient) to catch the tears.
N. B. A heavy fine on persons indulging in that foolish practice, called laughter.—“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.”—Secretary. The president, whoever he may be, for the evening, to be called—Mr. Undertaker; and whoever takes the chair, grave subjects will be expected from him.
To the Solemn Tune of “JACK RAN.”
Ye giddy youth, in life’s gay spring,
Who wanton joke, laugh, drink, and sing;
Ah, look at us, and change your ways,
In sackcloth we spend all our days.
CHORUS—WITH A GROAN.
May fate bestow what’s good for you,
Horrors jet black, and devils dark blue.
Did you but know how sweet is grief,
The flowing tears that yield relief;
Sweet sorrow’s sigh, heart-heaving moan,
Your life wou’d be one grunt and groan.
For life’s like bubbles made by rain,
No sooner come, but gone again;
So we must go, as ’tis our doom,
To make for other bubbles room.
Then ne’er rejoice, or e’er look glad,
Keep cloudy front, and visage sad;
For life’s a flake of smoke at best,
And not as poet’s say, “a jest.”
Away with idle hopes and fears,
Cut short your days, and nights, and years;
When desp’rate grown, and hating life
Go off by water, rope, or knife.
Coffins to be shewn.
Then comes this tight-screw’d patent case,
The undertaker’s last embrace;
Fast lock’d in which, four feet in ground,
We’re safe until the trumpet’s sound.
But, hark! the sexton tolls the bell!
So coffin comrades fare ye well.