to his burial-place, O pull, my boys, and make a noise. You, poor old horse, what brought you here, After carrying turf for many a year From Bantry Bay to Ballyack, When you fell down and broke your back? You died from blows and sore abuse, And were salted down for the sailor's use. The sailors they the meat despise, They turned you over and (ahem'd) your eyes, They ate the meat and picked the bones, And gave the rest to Davy Jones; And if you don't believe it's true, Go look in the harness cask, and find his shoes." "The music to this extraordinary song," says the writer, "was strange and crude, but marked by a weird, mournful melody, recalling what one has read of the caoine that was formerly sung by the Irish over their dead. . . . Each line was sung twice over by the auctioneer, and the crew followed in chorus with the alternate refrain." The ceremony of " Burying the Dead Horse" is now almost an obsolete one, and is rarely witnessed save on Australian bound passenger-ships. As to its origin I cannot find any authentic information, the custom is certainly confined to the British mercantile service. "The Dead Horse" is typical of one month's pay advanced on shore, and which, after twenty-eight days, has been worked out. The horse's body is made out of a barrel, and his extremities of hay or straw, covered with canvas, the mane and tail of hemp, or