JT-54-THE DEVIL ADVERTISED.

THE DEVIL ADVERTISED.

A busy body in the land,
Goes wand’ring up and down;
The schemy scoundrel long has plann’d,
To gain a great renown.

I cannot give a full detail
Of features, nor his size;
But I am told he has a tail,
A face, and ears, and eyes.

His month, they say, is monstrous wide,
And like a cat he claws;
A human voice, a shaggy hide,
His feet like lion’s paws.

It is supposed he has two wings,
And like an eagle flies
O’er all the world, he knows all things,
And wiser than the wise.

He like an angel oft appears,
And with a lovely face,
Pretends to shed a flood of tears,
And mourns our wretched race.

He’s very social and polite,
Converses free and loud,
He’s busy all the day and night,
To charm and lead the crowd.

His parentage is yet unknown,
And none can tell his birth;
In his descent he was alone,
And has no kin on earth.

But tho’ he’s old, he’s very gay,
And handsome, tall, and straight;
He courts the fair without dismay,
On them he’s fond to wait.

And they are fond, tho’ strange to tell,
That he should join their train;
And none can please them half so well,
Of him but few complain.

He visits them in private rooms,
And so familiar there,
That like a husband he presumes
To fondle with the fair.

He often helps them when they dress,
He makes their corset boards,
He pins their ruffles--gives caress,
Officious aid affords.

When ladies gather round their tea,
In fashionable style;
He visits there in merry glee,
And cheers them up the while.

He’s foremost there in telling news,
He tattles till he knows;
And deals out slander and abuse,
Destruction on his foes.

He tries his guests to entertain,
And tells what neighbors do;
Of them he always will complain,
In slanders old and new.

He travels far from East to West,
And visits high and low,
He drives from thousands all their rest,
And fills their hearts with woe.

He boasts his courage and his skill,
In battles, blood, and fight,
How soon his thousands he can kill,
And put his foes to flight.

He loves a dram, and often drinks,
A drunkard’s double share;
He staggers, swears and often sinks,
In mud and scandal there.

Ah! then he raves and storms along,
He threatens all around;
But soon he feels amid the throng,
His head upon the ground.

He is a hypocrite, I say,
For I can well declare,
When saints collect to sing and pray,
I have beheld him there.

He sometimes groans, and shouts aloud,
No one so good as he;
But quickly when he leaves the crowd,
He’ll wrong and slander thee.

He often fills the solemn place,
Where preachers ought to stand;
Presumes to publish heavenly grace,
To sinners o’er the land.

He is a Fatalist, you know,
His doctrine, strange to say,
Predestinates a part to woe,
And some to realms of day.

He thus deceives the heart of man,
Persuades him all is well;
And leads him in this wicked plan,
Along the road to hell.

He is a lawyer--often pleads,
The guilty must go clear,
Disputes and suits, and quarrels breeds,
Without remorse and fear.

He seems expert in all the arts,
He laughs, and he can weep;
He’s always arm’d with hidden darts,
And haunts where misers sleep.

He is a liar and a cheat,
A gambler and a rake;
And with the proud he has a seat
He never will forsake.

He is a thief, and robber too,
He robb’d me of my all,
And I am left as beggars do,
Upon my knees to fall.

I can’t describe the dress he wears,
He changes every day;
When for the church in black prepares,
And ruffles for the play.

His name I cannot fully tell,
I’ve heard them call him "Devil;"
"Old Sam," "Old Boy," an "Imp of Hell,"
"The source and root of evil."

He has a mask upon his face,
By which he’s better known;
He bears the letters of disgrace,
For blackest crimes, his own.

If any one will safely bind,
And bring him to the squire,
A thousand dollars he shall find,
And more if he require.

Confine him close within some jail,
Nor let him loose again;
Sweet peace shall then o’er all prevail,
And bliss without a pain.