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[Page 15]

The Sorrows of the Southan"

Borne on the breezes of the West – Sou – West,
What are these sounds one hears
That break upon my post-meridian rest,
And falling on the ears
Of my beloved ladies of the harem
Scare 'em
I tell my people 'tis the conquering heroes
That lit off fires of joy;
But I know better; they are british guns
Intended to destroy
The peace I smoke from my narcotic hubble Bubble.
How can I cope with the accursed [indecipherable]
If once my forts give out?
I miss the usual concert of the powers,
I have no ships about,
Save where the ten knot "Goeben" cracked
with bruises
O, how I loathe that vessel! how her name
Stinks in my quivering nose,
Since that infernal juncture when she came
Flying before her foes,
And in my haven dropped her beastly anchor
(Blank her)

(Over leaf.)

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