And, in spite of all my skill, she stole

A bold dragoon, with his—

O dear, what can the matter be!

Dear, dear, what can the matter be-
For of all the girls that are so smart,
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives with-

money,

And, tugging at his bridle, cry'd-
Don't I look spruce on my Neddy,
In spite of his kicking and prancing;
Gee up, gee up ho, and stand steady,
Mr. Neddy, I'm not fond of dancing-

When absent from her my soul holds most dear,
What a medley of passions, what a medley of-
Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend-
A very good song, and very well sung,
Jolly companions every one-

Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their clamour,

And were nightly knock'd down by the president's

Together we will range the fieldsWhen the wolf in nightly prowl

Bays the moon with

Will you come to the bower I have shaded for you,

Your bed shall be—

THE KISS AND THE TEAR.

JULIO told me when we parted,

Nought but death should cause his stay;

To mine eye a tear had started,
Julio kiss'd the drop away.

Autumn winds now chill my dwelling;

"Twas in spring I lost my dear; Grief afresh mine eye is swelling, But no kiss imbibes the tear.

With the flowers that Julio planted
Oft I dress his vacant chair;
Stand before it, gaze enchanted,
Gaze, and think my rover there!
Oft the kiss he gave at parting,
Midnight sleep returns to cheer;
But too soon my senses starting,
Lose the kiss to find the tear.

PARODY ON THE WOLF. AT the peaceful midnight hour, When by love and hunger's power I am kept from downy sleep, Nightly I to Molly creep; Whilst the cats the tiles upon Mew their loves for many miles, O'er the gutters lightly hopping, Through the garret-window dropping. Silence! or my master wakes. Lay the cloth and broil the steaks; Beef-steaks and onions crown our blisses, Bread and cheese and balmy kisses.

........

HER CHEEK FOR EVER SMILING.

Air-" Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!"
HER cheek for ever smiling,

Cherrily, oh! merrily, oh!
Every youthful swain beguiling,

Cherrily, oh! merrily, oh!
In shape and colour just a kin
To a beautiful ripe russeting,
Has set my heart a broiling,

Cherrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Her eyes that Cupid skips in,

Cherrily, oh! cherrily, oh!

The gas-lights far eclipsing,

Cherrily, oh! cherrily, oh! Her voice is full of mellow tone, Like the wonderful Apollonicon, Your ear so sweetly slips in;

Cherrily, oh! cherrily, oh!

EVERY MAN TO HIS TRADE.
Air-" Madame Fig's gala."

L 'ZE a countryman, just come to town,
And a rum one as e'er come before you;
And though but a poor simple clown,
I'ze tell you a comical story.
But first, if you please, let me tell
My mind, and it is for to ease you.
My name you all knows very well,
And here I be come for to please you.
Rumpty iddity, &c.

Folks call me a comical lad,
And say I'ze fond of joking a bit, sirs;
And neighbours all say that my dad

Were noted for being a wit, sirs;
He ling-besoms did make and red sand,
To sell to the neighbours about, sirs,
So I us'd to lend feyther a hand,
By acting as his rider out, sirs.

Rumpty iddity, &c.

One day, going over a heath,
A bishop, as fat as a pig, sirs,
Came riding upon his
gray donkey,

Wi' his red cabbage nose and big wig, sirs
Said he, in a voice just like thunder,

How must I get off from this common, sir? Said I, you'll get off, there's no wonder, The same way your worship got on, sir. Rumpty iddity, &c. Then he call'd me a poor silly clown, In manners as rude as a bear, sirs, And he ax'd, in a terrible frown,

If ever I said my prayers, sirs? No, never, said I, sir, by gum,

But can you tell how besoms are made, sir? Said he, I can't say that I can; Then, said I, every man to his trade, sir. Rumpty iddity, &c.

Said he, sir, I'd have you to know

I'm a bishop, and to me is given

The difficult task here below,

To teach sinners the right road to Heaven. Indeed, then, said I, in a laugh,

You're a guide-post, by gum, and a rum one,
To pretend to teach folks that strange path,
And you can't find your way off this common.
Rumpty iddity, &c.

Then he rode off, and sent his man John,
To ax if I'd e'er been at school, sirs,
For it seem'd that he wanted a man,
To act under he as a fool, sirs.

What, said I, John, ar't thou going to leave,
Because it appears plain to me, sirs,
That his worship will never be able
To keep and maintain us all three, sirs.
Rumpty iddity, &c.

........

YOUNG JAMIE.

Tune-" Last time I came o'er the moor." (Allan Ramsay.)

YE blythest lads, and lasses gay,
Hear what my sang discloses;

As I ae morning sleeping lay

Upon a bank of roses,

Young Jamie, whisking o'er the mead,
By good luck chanced to spy me;
He took his bonnet aff his head,
And saftly sat down by me.
Jamie, though I right meikle prized,
Yet now I wadna ken him;
But, with a frown, my face disguised,
And strave away to send him;
But fondly he still nearer prest,
And by my side down lying,
His beating heart thump'd sae fast,
I thought the lad was dying.
But still resolving to deny,

And angry passion feigning,
I aften roughly shot him by
With words full of disdaining.
Poor Jamie bawked, nae favour wins,
Went off much discontented;
But I, in truth, for a' my sins,
Ne'er half sae sair repented.

STANDING one summer's day on the Tower slip, Careless how I my time should employ,

my

It popp'd in head that I'd take a trip
Aboard of a Margate hoy.

I took a few slops, such as shirts and a coat,
For of prog I knew well they'd be stor❜d;
Then I hailed a pair of oars, shov'd off my boat,
And away I dash'd aboard.

SPOKEN.] Ah, my dear commodore, whe thought of seeing you?-What, Mrs. Garbage. how is the Alderman?-There is my husband, sir. -'Pon my word; and Dicky, I declare.-Give me leave, commodore, to introduce you to my friends :-Mr. Shadrach, Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Mr. Shadrach.-Vary mosh at your sharvice, sir.-Miss Minnikin, Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Miss Minnikin.— Very happy to have the pleasure of knowing you, sir. Dr. Quibus, Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Dr. Quibus.-Captain Squash, Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Captain Squash.-Sir Phelim O'Drogheda, Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Sir Phelim O'Drogheda.-Hollo, there! cast off the painter! Sit still, ladies and gentlemen.

So off we went with a flowing jib,
Full of merriment and joy;

The alderman munching, and prattling his rib;
Sing, Who so blythe as we,

Who take a voyage at sea,
Aboard of a Margate hoy.

Then such glee and humour our joy to prolong,
Pervaded all, fore and aft;

Some were telling a story, some whistling a song,
As we turned in an out amongst the craft.

Then we'd talk of our danger, and then we were

SPOKEN.] Hoy, the ship, ahoy!-Ay, ay.Pray have you one Wiseman aboard?-No, no.Then you are all fools, hey?-Ha, ha, ha, went Miss Minnikin.-Dat is vara coot jokes, said the Jew.-Why, I say, Moses, said the man that was affronted, are you a bull or a bear? dam'me, thinks you looks more like a monkey!-and you, Miss Dolly Dryiips, take a reef in your perriwig, and clap a stopper on your muzzle, clew пр the plaints in your jaw-bags, and give your tongue leave of absence.-About ship;-helm's a-lee

here she comes.

So we made t'other tack, and lay gunnel to,

Which soon gave a damp to our joy!

Miss Minnikin squall'd; mine Cot! cried the Jew.
Sing, Who so blythe, &c.

"he company's merriment now out of joint,
And their tattlers not moving so quick,
Scarce right a-head did we twig Cuckold's Point,
But the alderman began to be sick.
Then we'd like to fell foul of an oyster-smack,
The wind freshing towards the Nore;
Then stretching too far on the larboard-tack,
By and bye we came bump a-shore.

SPOKEN. Ah! we shall all be cast away! Oh! my poor dear pattern-cap !-Vat sall !-Casht avay I do to be shaved?-Why faith, said I, I fancy we shall have a touch of the salt water before we get to Margate.-Yes, sir, said the doctor; not that I have any quarrel with death, but I'm afraid we shall take in too large a dose.-How do you do, Sir Phelim ?-Arrah, I should be well enough if I was not so cursedly sick.-She rights, she rights!

Next a gale coming on, we did preciously kick, Which finish'd completely our joy; "Twas, ma'am, how do you do? Oh, I'm monstrously sick!

And, sir, how are you? Oh, I'm damnably sick!
Sing, Who so blythe, &c.

And now 'twould have made a philosopher grin
To have seen such a concourse of muns,

Sick as death, wet as muck, from the heel to the chin;

For it came on to blow great guns.

Spoilt clothes and provisions now clogg'd up the

way,

In a dreary and boisterous night;
While apparently dead ev'ry passenger lay,

With the sickness, but more with the fright.

SPOKEN.] I wish I was at home in my bed!— Oh, that was a hundred miles off! - Mercy upon my shins!-Oh, will nobody throw me overboard?Avast, there!-Ah, my poor dear pattern-cap's blown into the pond!-Oh, my soul! what a devil of a sickness!-Arrah, stop the ship; sir, would you be so kind as to be after handing he caudle-cup?-Land, land upon the starboard

Great kings, dukes, and lords,
Have laid by their swords,
Our mysteries to put a good grace on,
And ne'er been ashamed
To hear themselves named
With a free and an accepted mason.
Still firm to our trust
In friendship we're just,
Our actions we guide by our reason,
By observing this rule,
The passions move cool
Of a free and an accepted mason.
All idle debate

About church or the state,
The springs of impiety and treason,
These raisers of strife

Ne'er ruffle the life

Of a free and an accepted mason.
Antiquity's pride

We have on our side,
Which adds high renown to our station,
There's nought but what's good
To be understood

By a free and an accepted mason.

The clergy embrace,
And all Aaron's race,

Our square actions their knowledge to place en-
And in each degree
They'll honoured be

With a free and an accepted mason.

We're true and sincere

In our love to the fair,

Who will trust us on every occasion;
No mortal can more
The ladies adore

Than a free and an accepted mason.

Then join hand in hand,

To each other firin stand;
Let's be merry and put a good face on.
What mortal can boast

west,'

"

The ladybird is westward flown,
For westward is my Lubin gone.
Last Valentine, at break of day,
Before the stars were chased away,
I met, or may he faithless prove,
Lubin, my valentine, my love.
Last May, I sought to find a snail,
That might my lover's name reveal;
Which finding, home I quickly sped,
And on the hearth the embers spread;
When, if my letters I can tell,
I saw it mark a curious L.
Oh! may this omen lucky prove,
For L's for Lubin and for Love.

I vow, sir, says she, Nothing better can be

Than-chih!-chih!-chih!-he! he! Betty goes.

How's the bubble and the squeak?

He for sneezing could not speak,

Till he sneezed off his wig among the pettitoes.
Week! week! fol lol de ra.

Sneezing, nodding, went Miss Snap,
Till the candle caught her cap,

And to put out the flame some water Betty throws,
In vain, till Mr. Grig

On her noddle clapped his wig,

That was soaked in the gravy of the pettitoes.

Week! week! fol lol de ra.

THOUGH dimpled cheeks may give the light,
Where rival beauties blossom,
Though balmy lips to love invite
To ecstasy the bosom;
Yet sweeter far yon summer sky,
Whose blushing tint discloses,
Give me the lustre-beaming eye,
The sun that lights the roses.
The voice of love is soft and clear,
Exciting fond emotion;
How sweet it sounds upon the
Like music on the ocean;
Yet dearer far to lover's sight,
The eye that truth discloses,
Surpassing with its splendour bright
The sun that lights the roses.

ear,

SWEET ANNE PAGE.

Air-" Sweet Mary Ann."-(Shakspeare.) WITH thee fair summer's joys appear,

Oh, sweet Anne Page!

But thou away dread winter's near,
And all around is dark and drear.
The leaves look pale, and shepherds mourn,
All nature droops till you return,

Oh, sweet Anne Page!

When April's glories shine on me,

Oh, sweet Anne Page! And violets bloom, ah, none I see, But sweets or colours stolen from thee! Yet though 'tis winter, thou away, Still these thy shadows make it May.

Oh, sweet Anne Page'

GALLANT TOM. (Dibdin.)

IT blew great guns, when gallant Tom
Was taking in a sail,

And squalls came on, in sight of home,
That strengthen'd to a gale;

Broad sheets of vivid lightning glar'd,
Reflected by the main;

And even gallant Tom despair'd

To see his love again.

The storm came on! each rag a-board
Was into tatters rent;

The rain through every crevice pour'd;
All fear'd the dread event.

The pumps were chok'd-their awful doom
Seemed sure at every strain;

Each tar despair'd, e'en gallant Tom,
To see his love again.

The leak was stopt, the winds grew dull,
The billows ceas'd to roar,

And the torn ship, almost a hull,

In safety reach'd the shore.
Crowds ran to see the wondrous sight!
The storm had rag'd in vain;

And gallant Tom, with true delight,
Beheld his love again.

TRUISMS;

OR, INCONTROVERTIBLE FACTS.
Air-" Green grow the rushes, O!"

I'M Simon Bore, just come from college,
My studies I've pursued so far
I'm called, for my surprising knowledge,
The walking Cyclopædia;

Though some, perhaps, may call me quiz,
Their jeers I value not a jot,

In art and nature, all that is,
I'll tell you-aye, and all that's not.

So you must all acknowledge, 0,
I've made good use of college, 0,
Whilst I was there, completely bare
I stripp'd the tree of knowledge, O

Hay is brought to town in carts,
Ham sandwiches ar'n't made of tin;
They don't feed cows on apple tarts,
Nor wear gilt spurs upon the chin;
Bullocks don't wear opera hats,
Fiddles are not made of cheese,
Nor pigeon pies of water rats-
Boil'd salmon does not grow on trees.
So you must all, &c.

Putty is not good to eat,

Frying pans ar'n't made of gauze;

Penny rolls are made of wheat,

Straw bonnets, too, are made of straws,

Horses don't wear Hessian boots,

The Thames is not mock turtle soup;

A child can't eat an iron hoop,

And pigs don't play the German flute. So you must all, &c. Kittens are but little cats, Mousetraps are not county jails— Whales are full as large as sprats, They don't stuff geese with

A German waltz is not a hymn,
The French are mostly born in France;
Fishes ar'n't afraid to swim,

copper nails;

And turkies seldom learn to dance.
So you must all, &c.

Twenty turnips make a score,

Dustmen rarely drink champaign;
A cow's tail seldom grows before,
They don't make wigs of bamboo cane;
Dutchmen sometimes lie in beds,

A cabbage cannot dance a jig;
Grass does not grow on ladies' heads,
A bull dog need not wear a wig.
So y u must all, &c.
Fifty pounds of yellow soap
Weigh more than twenty-five of cheese;

An oyster cannot chew a rope,

Poor people have a right to sneeze;

Pigs don't read the Morning Post,

Watch chains are not roasting jacks; They don't make boots of butter'd toast, Red herrings don't pay powder-tax. So you must all, &c.

THE AULD MAN'S BEST ARGUMENT.

Tune-" Widow, are ye wakin?"

O! wha's that at my chamber-door,
Fair widow, are you wakin?
Auld carl, your suit give o'er,
Your love lyes a in tawking.

Gie me a lad that's young and tight,
Sweet like an April meadow;
'Tis sic as he can bless the sight
And bosom of a widow.

"O! widow, wilt thou let me in?
I'm pawky, wise, and thrifty,
And come of a right gentle kin
I'm little mair than fifty."
Daft carl, dit you mouth,

What signifies how pawky, Or gentle born you be,-bot youth? In love you're but a gawkey. Then widow let these guineas speak, That powerfully plead clinkan; And if they fail, my mouth I'll steak, And na mair love will think on. These court, indeed, I maun confess; I think they make you young, sir, And ten times better can express Affection than your tongue, sir.

OR, A PICTURE OF LONDON FASHIONS.
Air-" Gee ho, Dobbin." (Bryant.)

My name's Tony Clod, waggon's just set me down,
And I'ze comed just to see all the fun of the town,
Where I've witnessed such sights as would make a
man stare,

And I've laugh'd till I'm sick at the folks, I declare.

Oh, the fashion! how they dash on! And the streets of this town are like our country-fair.

There are rich folks who ne'er in their lives owned

two dollars,

And chaps without shirts, sirs, but plenty of collars; There are dandies with large wigs, with which

they take pains,

So you're sure to find hair though you cannot find brains.

Oh, the fashion, &c. There are auctions for pictures, for clothes, and for crockery,

And fine turtle-soup that is nothing but mockery; There are doctors who say they can cure all disorders,

And play-houses crammed ev'ry night full of orders. Oh, the fashion, &c.

There are officer-soldiers not older than twenty, And rich beggars you'll find in this town in great plenty;

And if public-houses for drinking you'd meet,
Ecod, you'll find twenty in every street.
Oh, the fashion, &c.
There are wild beasts to show by some comical

elves,

And thousands who try to make beasts of them-
selves;
Besides which you will find of queer fellows a set,
Who will go into prison to pay off each debt.
Oh, the fashion, &c.
Now there's acting for ever in London's the rage,
And performers who ne'er appeared on the stage;
Oh, yes, I am wrong, I their talents reproach,
For some go to Acton a top of stage-coach.

Oh, the fashion, &c. There are always fine sights to be seen in Bondstreet,

And some true native monkies you're sure there to meet;