produce in the well-known ballad of "Oh no, we never mention her!"--a
ballad which has almost become wearisome from its sweetness and
repetition. With a catarrh the words would run thus:--

"O lo, we lever beltiol her,
Her labe is lever heard."

Struck with this modification of sound, PUNCH, anxious to cater _even_ for
the catarrhs of his subscribers, begs to furnish them with a "_calzolet_,"
which he trusts will be of more service to harmonic meetings than pectoral
lozenges and paregoric, as we have anticipated the cold by converting
every _m_ into _b_, and every _n_ into _l_.


A SONG FOR A CATARRH.

_B_y _B_ary A_ll_e is like the su_l_,
Whe_l_ at the daw_l_ it fli_l_gs
Its golde_l_ s_b_iles of light upo_l_
Earth's gree_l_ and lo_l_ely thi_l_gs.
I_l_ vai_l_ I sue, I o_l_ly wi_l_
Fro_b_ her a scor_l_ful frow_l_;
But soo_l_ as I _b_y prayers begi_l_,
She cries O _l_o! bego_l_e.
Yes! yes! the burthe_l_ of her so_l_g
Is _l_o! _l_o! _l_o! bego_l_e!

_B_y _B_ary A_ll_e is like the moo_l_,
Whe_l_ first her silver shee_l_,
Awakes the _l_ighti_l_gale's soft tu_l_e,