The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any lady artiste.

SO SHY!

The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the public.

I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
[Self-praise is a great recommendation—in Music-hall songs.
So retiring and so timid and so coy.
If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
I will tell you—'tis because I am so shoy.

[Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation.

Spoken—Yes, I am—really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you? But, for all that,—

Chorus—When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
Going off into a giggle,
And as red as any peony I blush;
Then turn paler than a lily,
For I'm such a little silly,
That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!

[After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of shrinking maidenly modesty.

I've a cottage far away from other houses,
Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
For I cannot cure myself of being shoy.

Spoken—A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying, for—

Chorus—When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.

Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.

Spoken—It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.

Chorus—When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.

Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.
Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.
Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"
But how is a girl to answer when she's shoy?

Spoken—For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing particular, it's just the same to me.

Chorus—When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.

There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
[Arcadian for "buy."
And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.

Spoken—For, as I told you before,—

Chorus—When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.

Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!

Spoken—People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As for me,—

Chorus—When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.

So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
It will only be because I am so shy.

[We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will be observed.

Spoken—Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with everybody looking at me,—

Chorus—I am certain I shall wriggle,
And go off into a giggle,
And as red as any peony I'll blush.
Going through the marriage service
Will be sure to mike me nervous,
[Note the freedom of the rhyme.
And to put me in a flutter and a flush!