'Tis to be hoped that in his next edition,
This, the original, will find admission.
SONG.
There's a barrel of porter at Tammany Hall,
And the bucktails are swigging it all the night long;
In the time of my boyhood 'twas pleasant to call
For a seat and cigar, 'mid the jovial throng.
That beer and those bucktails I never forget;
But oft, when alone, and unnoticed by all,
I think, is the porter-cask foaming there yet?
Are the bucktails still swigging at Tammany Hall?
No! the porter was out long before it was stale,
But some blossoms on many a nose brightly shone,
And the speeches inspired by the fumes of the ale,
Had the fragrance of porter when porter was gone.
How much Cozzens will draw of such beer ere he dies,
Is a question of moment to me and to all;
For still dear to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that barrel of porter at Tammany Hall.
