The Gobbler's Christmas Carol

BY CHARLES HALLOCK. Ah! hungry reader ! gormandizer! How biest your lot, bow foul is mine! Pray realize it - realize ah ! Mine 'tis to die tháiyouniay'diine ! Whcn from the natal slu-11 T bursted To fledfíing lite and pavent hen, That precious life I lltüe truated WbulQ bc so soon'slielliul outjigain. Amid üil' barn-yariTs rarn attrartions, Strutting frntlifnil tina Rmonjfi I lïtth; ili-c;ini(iii Buch Lowl epgs-flctiooa On Chriatmad holldaye werewruug. I never troubled the hereafter; The present was ullicieut l)]iss - Alas ! it is no cause for laughter To find your necks twirled sliort in this. Yet 'twasfor tliis betimee I fattened, For Qúa alone h fully fod; Tliat wben a Christmas day next happened My veins should not in vain be bied. For this I proudly Btrufcted, bobbled ! I dreamed not of the bitter cup. Long time I tiobbled gobWod, obbled, But now, at last. I'DB KobbUd up. Say. readfr. am I justlv troatcil Hhould tb at which is oí ríght my met Be freely out to ítraners meted? Confesa it novt I beg, eutreat. Regard my end with melancholy - Drawn and quartorcl. basted sauced - And wben you BÏng the yüt1 and holly Contemplete, too, the holocaust.