THE
SONGSTER’S MISCELLANY;
BEING A

CHOICE SELECTION
OF THE
most approved
ENGLISH, IRISH, SCOTCH, AND AMERICAN
SONGS.
“ Frame your mind to mirth and merriment
“ It bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life."
PHILADELPHIA :
PUBLISHED FOR THE SUBSCRIBERS. 
1817.CONTENTS.
PAGE.
American Star, .	•	•	.	•	.	•	.43
At morning dawn the hunters rise,	...	11
American Naval Victories,....................................30
Anacreon in Heaven,......................................... 40
All’s Well,.................................  •	.48
A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs, ....	62
Bound ’Prentice to a Waterman, ....	15
Bright Phoebus has mounted the Chariot of day, .	47
Bay of Biscay, O !	......	50
Banks of Champlain, ...	...	51
Banks of Schuylkill, .	.	.	.71
Bold Dragoon,...................................  .	,07
Chapter on Pockets...........................................20
Drink to me only,............................................33
Deep in a Vale a Cottage stood, ....	59
Epitaph on Thimble’s Wife, ....	14
Exile of Erin, .......	55
Flitch of Bacon............................................. 29
Garland of Love,.............................................21
Glasses Sparkle on the Board, .	.	.60
Honey and Mustard, .	.	.	.	.	.	5
Hail to the Chief, .	,	.	.	8
Hail Liberty,	.	.	>	.69
High fill the Bowl and round it twine, ...	23
Here’s to the Maiden uf bashful fifteen, .	.	.	28
Hallowed the birth day of liberty's nation, .	.	64'
I’ve liv’d a life of some few years', ...	70
I have lov’d thee, dearly lovd thee,	57	.IV
V1
I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl’d,	iip
Jessie the flower of Durablaine,	-	49
Landladv of France,
Love and Glory; or, Paddy Carey’s Fortune, -	9
Lain O’Bryan,	-	*	-	16
Lit let us cherish,	*	-	-	24
Lullaby,	-	-	-	60
Meeting of the Waters,	*	.	55
Minute Gun at -Sea, -	18
O, Young Lochinvar is come out of the west,	65
O! breathe not his name,	57
O, no, my Ltfve, no,	.	;	36
Post Captain,	•	.	.'71
Phelim’s Courtship,	-	-	.38
Perry’s Victory, ...	t	52
Since then I’m doom’d,	-	•	^
See from Ocean rising,	.	.	.12
Seamen of Columbia, .	.	72
Sandy and Jenny, -	i	63
Thimble's scolding Wife lay dead,	.	.	15
The Woodman’s Hut,	.	.68
The Trumpet of Fame,	.	.	27
The Hobbies, .	.	.	.35
The 111 Wife, .	.	.	-49
There not in the wide world a race, &c.	.	.	13
Th* fitly One, if.	.	.	54
The Land of Potato's O,	.	<42
Where shall the Lover rest ?	*26
What can a Lassie do ?	.	.	24
Whip Club ; or Laugh and be Wise,	.	36
When pensive I thought of my Love,	:	36
Wake, Maid of Lorn!	*	41
When wreii’rous Wine expand? the soul,	*	67
Young Son of Chivalry, .	.	*	7
Young Lobski,	.	•	i	•	25THE
SONGSTER’S MISCELLANY.
HONET AND MUSTARD.
Sir Jerry Go-Nimble was lame of a leg,
Hey diddle, lio diddle dee,
And my Lady Go-Nimble had barely one peg;
For a very old lad v was she.
Sir Jerry, when married, was just twenty-two;
My lady fourscore, when sir J. came to woo :
As ugly as poles, but as rich as a Jew.
X Spoken)—How we us’d to laugh at the old creature when she us’d to sing
Hey diddle, ho diddle, hey diddle dee,
Sing hey diddle, ho diddle dee.
At the wedding, my ladv was asked for a song,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee.
‘ O,’ says she, ‘ to comply I’ll not hesitate long,
But 1 own I’m not quite in the key.'
Then she guve a queer look, ’twixt a squint and a grin;
And screw'd tip her snufl'color’d lips to begin,
Like two bellows handles she mov’d nose and chin
When she sung—‘ What’s life without passion, sweet passidn of
Iley diddle, ho diddle dee.
This pair of true lovers they liv’d upon love,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee„
And the honey moon lasted a week and above,
And tben ’twas all mustard for she Sir Jerry was fond of his cards, dice and hits,
And my ladv fell into historical fits,
*nd for cruelty drank herself out of her wits.(Spoken)—Poor soul! she wandered about like craz.y June, with a wisp of straw in one hand,?and a brandy bottle in the other,
Singing—He was false, and I’m undone.
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee.
At last, by this sad hydrafogv she died,
Hey diddle, ho diddle dee.
And her grim ghost it came by sir Jerry’s bed side,
List! for I’m come for thee !
Sir Jerry, he bid himself under the clothes,
Rut the ghost very soon pull’d him out by the toes, Threw him out of the window, and cried, ‘ there he goes.' (Spoken)—And there he went sure enough,
Singing—Hey diddle, ho diddle dee.
LANDLADY OF FRANCE,
A landlady of France, she lov’d an officer, ’tis said,
And this officer he dearly lov’d her brandy O !
Sigh’d she, ‘ L love this officer, although his nose is red, And his legs are what his regiment call bandy O !’
But when the bandy officer was order’d to the coast,
How she tore her lovely locks that look’d so sandy O!
‘ Adieu,my soul!’ said she, ‘ ifyou write pray pay the post, But, before we part, let’s take a drop of brandy O!’
£bc fill’d him out a bumper just before he left the town, And another for herself so neat and handy O !
So they kept their spirits up, by their pouring spirits down* For love is, like the cholic, cured with brandy O!
‘Take a bottle on’t,* says she, ‘ if you’re going into camp. In your tent, you know my love, ‘twill be the dany O!’
' You’re right,’ says he, * my life, for a tent is very damp, , And ‘tis better, in my tent, to take some brandy O !’THE YOUNG SON OF CHIVALRY.
A knight was belov’d by a baroness fair,
And vast the estate which she offer'd to share
With the youth who her choice might be: But proud was her heart and her spirit was high, When she offer’d her hand with disdain in her eye; To the Young Son of Chivalry.
The knight lov’d a maid in the hamlet below,
Tho’ no wealth had the maid but her heart to bestow, On the youth who her choice might be :
He rejected the hand that was offer'd in pride,
And chose the fond maid who was blest as the bride Of the Young Son of Chivalry.
Now humbled by love, see the baroness fair Weep &. sigh for the knight who laugh’d at each snare. Though the youth of her choice was lie.
Far sweeter by far than the baroness high,
Was the poor humble maid with the wild beaming eye, To the Young Son of Chivalry.
Thus pride in a maiden will end in disgrace,
And each latent spark of affection efface,
In the youth who her choice might be:
And riches ’gainst love when oppos’d in the field, Will result in defeat, from the lance and the shield Of the Young Sou of Chivalry.


SINCE THEN I'M DOOM'D.
Sung by Mrs. Burke.
Since then I’m doom’d this sad reverse to prove,
To quit each object of my infant care ;
Torn from an honor’d parent’s tender love,
And driven the keenest storms of life to bear.
Ah ! then forgive me, in pity let me part;
Your frowns too sure would break my sinking heartWhere'er I go, what e’er my lowly state,
Yet grateful memory still shall linger here;
And when, perhaps, you’re musing o’er my fate,
You then may greet me with a tender tear.
Ah! then forgive me, in pity let me part;
Your frowns, too sure, would break my sinking heart.
Hail ! to the chief, who in triumph advances;
Honor’d and blest be the evergreen pine :
Long may the tree in his banner that glances,
Flourish the shelter and grace of our line.
Heaven send it happy dew,
Earth lend it sap anew ;
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow,
While every Highland glen,
Send our shout back agen,
* Itoderigh Vich Alpine l)hu, ho! ieroc !’*
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltante, in winter to fade,
When the whirlwind has strip’d ev’ry leafon the mountain, The more shall Clan Alpine exult in her shade.
Moor’d in the rifted rock,
Proof to the tempest’s shock,
The firmer he roots him, the ruder it blows :
Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
KchO'hif praise agen,
« Koderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho! ieroe !*
* Black Iloderick, the descendant of Alpine.
11 AIL ro THE CHIEF.Proudly our pibrock has thrill’d in Glen Flurin,
And Banochers groans to our slogan replied,
Glen Luss and Ross Dhu, they are smoking in ruin,
And the best of Lock Lomond lie dead on her side.
Widow and Saxon maid,
Long shall lament our raid,
Think of Clan Alpine with fear and with woe.
Lenox and Levon glen,
Shake when they hear agen
'Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho! ieroe
Row vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands!
Stretch to your oars for the ever green pine!
O ! that the rose bud that graces yon islands,
Were wreath’d in a garland around him to twine."
O that some seedling gem,
Worthy such noble stem,
Honor’d and blest in their shadow may grow;
Loud should Clan Alpine then,
Ring through her deepmost glen,
* Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho! ieroe!’
LOVE AND GLORY ; OR, PADDY CAREY'S FORTUNE.
’Twas at the town of neat Clogheen,
That serjeant Snap met Paddy Carey,
A cleaner boy was never seen,
Brisk as a bee, light as a fairy;
His brawny shoulders four feet square,
His cheeks like thumping red potatoes,
His legs would make a chairman stare,
And Put was lov’d by all the ladies;
Old and young—grave and sad,
Deaf and dumb—dull or mad,Waddling, twaddling, limping, squinting,
Light, brisk and airy;
All the sweet faces at Limerick races,
From Mullinavat, to Magherafelt,
At Paddy’s beautiful name would melt,
The sowls would cry, and look so shy,
Och ! Cushlamachree, did you ever see,
The jolly boy, the darling joy,
The ladies toy, the widow’s joy,
Nimble-footed, black-ey’d,
Rosy cheek’d, curly-headed Paddy Carey,
O sweet Paddy, beautiful Paddy ! nate
Little, tight little Paddy Carey.
His heart was made of Irish oak,
Yet soft as streams from sweet Killarney,
His tongue was tipt with a bit o’ th’ brogue ;
But the devil a bit at all of the blarney.
Now serjeant Snap so sly and keen,
While Pat was coaxing duck legg’d Mary,
A shilling slipp’d so neat and clean,
By the powers he 'listed Paddy Carey ! .
Tight and sound—strong and light,
Cheeks so round—eyes so bright,
Whistling, humming,drinking, drumming,
Right, tight, and airy;
All the sweet faces, &c.	 
The sowls wept aloud, the crowd was great,
When waddling forth came widow Leary,
Though she was crippled in her gait,
Her brawny arms clasp’d Paddy Carey;
‘ Och Pat,’ she cried, ' go buy the ring
Here’s cash galore, my darling honey.'
' Your sowl,’ says Pat, ' I'll do that thing,’
And clapt his thumb upon her—money.
Gimblet eye—sausage nose—
Pat so sly—ogle throws,—Leering, titt’ring, jeering, fritt’ring,
Sweet widow Leary,
All the sweet faces, &c.

When Pat had thus his fortune made,
He press'd the lips of mistress Leary,
And mounting straight a large cockade,
In captain’s boots struts Paddy Carey.
He grateful prais’d her shape, her back,
To others like a dromedary
Her eyes that seem'd their strings to crack,
Were Cupid’s darts to Paddy Carey,
Neat and sweet—no alloy—
All complete—love and joy—
Ranting, roaring, soft, adoring,
Dear widow Leary.
All the sweet faces at Limerick races,
From Mullinavat to Magherafelt,
At Paddv's promotion, sigh and melt,
The sowls all cry, as the groom struts by,
Och ! Cushlamachree," thou art lost to me,
The jolly boy, the darling joy,
The lady's toy, the widow’s joy,
Long sword girted, couk. short skirted,
Head cropp'd whisker chbp’d captain Carey;
O sweet Paddy! beautiful Paddy ! white feather’d
Boot leather’d Paddy Carey.
AT MORNING DAWN THE HUNTERS RISE,
Sung by Mrs. Burke,

At morning dawn the hunters rise,
To view the beauties of the skies ;The hounds proclaim reluming day;
The huntsmen cry, hark ! hark ! away. I
The earth’s are stopp’d, the hounds Well thro;
In hope9 to hear sweet tally ho.
In hopes to hear sweet tally ho.
To rural hark the huntsmen cry,
A certain sign for sportsmen’s joy.
Hark forward !—next salute our ear,
A cheering proof the fox is near.
The earth’s are stopped, &c.
Now swift we course o’er hill and dale,
O’er hedge, or ditch, o’er gate, or rail,
Our sport with rapture we pursue,
Until sly reynard’s brush we view.
The earths are stopped, See.
SICE FROM OCEAN RIS1NC.
A favorite Duet in ‘ Paul and Virginia.’
Paul—See from ocean rising, bright flames the orb of day
From yon grove the varied songs
Shall slumbers from Virginia, chase,chase away,
Slumbers from Virginia, chase, chase away.
Virginia.—Tho’ from ocean rising bright flame the orb of day,
Ah ! not yet the hour of meeting;
No, not yet, Virginia.-------Paul.—Do not delay.
Virginia.—No, not yet, Virginia—.
Paul.—Do not delay.
Virginia.—From yon grove varied songs,
Chase Virginia, slumbers.
Both.—Yet a while, yet a while, yet we must delay.
Virginia.—From yon grove varied songs, chase Virginia’s slumbers-
Both.—Yet a while, yet a while, yet we must delay
Virginia.—Yet a while retiring, hence away------
Paul.—Absence if desiring I obey.--------
Virginia.—Go, go, hence away.
y together.
Paul.—'Yes, yes, I obey
THIMBLE'S WiFE.
From  Killing no Murder.
Thimbu's scolding wife lay dead,
' Heigho !’ say9 Thimble,
‘ My dearest duck’s defunct in bed ;
Death has cabbaged her—oh, she’s fled!
With her roley poley,
Gammon and spinnage,
' Heigho !’ says Thimble,
BThimble buried his wife that night;
‘ Heigho!’ says Thimble,
' I grieve to sew up my heart's delight.
With her diamond ring on her finger tight ;*
And her roley, poley, &c.
To saw off her finger and steal the ring,
Soon came the Sexton:
She sat up an end, and she gave a fling,
Crying * Damme, you dog, you steal no such thing!’ With your roley poley, &c.
And off ran the sexton.
She stalk’d to her home, and she made a din,
‘ Heigho !’ cried Thimble,
Then popp’d out his head, and said, with a grin,
‘ You are dead, dearest duck, and 1 can’t let you in’ With your roley poley, &c * O heigh!’ cried Thimble.
EPITAPH ON MRS, THIMBLE.
Or Thimble’s wife death’s clipp’d the thread, No longer sighs Tim Thimble;
Says he, tread lightly-o'er her head, iw pity to poor Thimble;
For if she rise she’ll surely scold,
(And she’s so ugly and so old,)
With her roley poley, gammon and spinnnge 6 ’ It would break the heart ofTbjjnble.Sung by Mr. Smalley, at the Olympic Theatre-
Bound ’prentice to a waterman, I learn’d a bit to row,
But, bless your heart, I always was so gay,
That, to treat a little water-nymph that took my heart in tow,
I runn’d myself in debt a bit, and then I runn’d away.
Singing, ri tol, fol de rol, yeo ho.
’Board a man of war I enter’d next, and learn’d to quaff good flip,
And far from home we scudded on so gay;
I ran my rigs, but lik’d so well my captain, crew and ship, That, run what will, why, damme, if I ever run away.
Singing, ri tol, &c.
On board the Philadelphia, I sail’d the world around,
But, somehow, I a prisoner was taken ;
So, when the Turkish jailor to my dungeon show’d a light,
I blinded just his peepers, and then ran away again.
{Spoken.)—Damme, how y’d have laugh’d, to have seen the fellow bring in a bason of broth, and an old mouldy biscuit—Clear the gangway, says I--you be damn’d says he—so I out with a stale quid and stung him right in the eye, and then went ofl Singing, ritol, &c.
I’ve ran many risks in life, on ocean and on shore,
But always, like a tar, got the day;
And fighting in Columbia’s cause will nin as many more, But, let me face ten thousand foes, will never run away. {Spoken.)—Run ! damme, never ! while we fight under the command of our brave commodores Bain-
THE WATERMAN.bridge, Decatur, Perry, &c.—damn my wig, my
friends, we’ll never leave off
Singing, ri tol, fol de rol, yeo ho.
LARRY O'BRYAN.
I am lately return’d from the ocean,
Where fire, blood, and balls were in motion ;
And for fighting I never had a notion,
It would never do for Larry 0‘Bryan.
I could box on the shore like a son of a w c,
I could knock down the dogs, by my soul, half a score,
But I never thought it clever,
'For those balls to knock the liver
Out of Larry.
Blood and thunder ’ where’s the gaby that would tarry ?
It would never do for Larry,
It would never do for Larry O’Bryan.

I’m so tight, that no one can come near me,
And for wit, I’ll engage few can scare me,
And for boxing, they all need to fear me,
So smart was young Larry 0‘Bryan.
So tight, and so free, when I first went to sea;
Who the d 1 should they pop in an office but me;
With my raker, and my scraper,
Blood an’ ouns I cut a caper,
With young Larry,
Blood and thunder where’s the gaby that would, 8cc.
There’s a dirty little midshipman milk-sop,
He order’d me up to the tip-top,
When my head it spun round like a whip-top ,
Och! ’twas cruelty for Larry O’Bryan.Then a sailor went up and he let down a rope;
They tied it round mv middle and they hoisted me up;
I kept bawling’, I kept squalling,
While the fellows they were hauling Up poor Larry,
Blood and thunder where’s the gaby that would, &c.'
Then the next thing they all went to fighting,
Twas a play that 1 never took delight in ;
Arrah ! sure, you will all think me right in,
Securing of Larry O’Bryan :
Tor the powder, and the shot, and the balls flew so hot,
And the lmbabub-a-boo of the d d sans culotte.
For funning, with their gunning,
By my soul I set c.T running
With poor Larry;
Blood and thunder where’s the gaby that would, &c.'
While this hubbub and noise they were making Upon deck ; in the hold I lay shaking,
Till I heard that the French ship was taken,
Then out jumps young Larry O’Bryan. Then I saw a fellow dead lying down without his head; Arrah ! faith, then I thought lie had better been in bed, Than delighting in such fighting,
Which 1 found no way inviting,
For young Larry;
Blood and thunder where’s the gaby that would, Stc.
Then the captain gave orders for^ailing,
But the sides of the ship wanted nailing;
And all hands went to pumping and bailing;
'l'his was labor for Larry 0‘Bryan.
So we got her in the docks, on her d d heavy blocks;
By my soul, hut she look’d like a fellow in the stocks; Then their oakum, devil choak ’em,
And their tar, they wish’d to poke ’em On young Larry,
Blood and thunder where’s the gabv that would, &c.
B 2I’ve got rid of the captain and sailors,
And bid adieu to the caulkers and nailors ;
By my soul, I’ll apply-to the tailors,
To rig- off' young Larry O’Bryan.
I’ve escap’d free of wounds, and I will, blood an’ ouns,
Shew myself to some widow with twenty thousand pounds;
I’ll implore her, I’ll adore her,
With palaver 1’ll secure her
For young Larry,
Blood aid thunder where’s the gaby wouldn’t marry
Such a dasher as young Larry,
Such a dasher as young Larry O’Bryan.

THE MINUTE GUN AT SEA.
A favorite song, as sung by. Mr. Twibill.
Let him who sighs in sadness, hear,
Rejoice, and know a friend is near.
What heavenly sounds are those I hear ?
What blessings come, the news to cheer '
When in the storm on Albion’s coast,
The night-watch guards his weary post,
From thought, of danger free.
He marks some vessel’s dusky form,
And hears amid tlfe howling storm,
The minute gun at sea.
The minute gun at sea.
And hears amid the howling storm,
The minute gun at sea.
Swift on the shore a hardy few—
The life boat is mann’d with a gallant gallant crew,
And dare the dangerous wave.Thro* the wild surf they cleave their way ;
Lost in the foam, nor know dismay—
	For	they go the crew to save
	For they go the crew to save.
Lost in the foam, nor know dismay—
For they go the crew to save.

But, oh! what raptures fill each breast, 
Of the hopeless crew of the ship distress’d
Then landed safe, what joys to tell,
Of all the dangers that befel,
Then is heard no more.
Then is heard no more bv the watch on the shore,
The minute gun at sea.
AN IRISH MELODY.

In reply to Cobbett’s attack on Potato’s-

Tune—‘ Dear creatures roe can't do without them.'

Oh ! there is not in the wide world a race that can beat us,
From Canada’s cold hills, to sultry Japan,
While we fatten and feast on smiling potato’s,
From F.rin’s green vallies, so friendly to man;
Is it not an abundance alone, and a plenty,
If plain simple fare the potato’s supplies ;
But beef, milk, and butter, and bacon, so dainty;
Hens, ducks, geese, and turkies, and fat mutton pies.

Chorus.
Sweet roots of Erin ! we can’t live without them,
No tongue can express their importance to man.
Poor Corporal Cobbett knows nothing about them,
We’ll boil them, and eat them as fast as we can.
In the skirts of our bogs that are cover’d with rushes,
In dales that we till with the sweat of our brow ;On the wild mountain side clear’d of heath, rocks and bushes,
We'll plant the kind root with the spade or the plough.
Then comes the south breezes with soft vernal showers,
To finish the process that morn has begun,
And a brilliant succession of sweet-smelling flowers,
Reflect, in bright lustre, the rays of the sun.
Chorus—Sweet roots of Erin, &c.

The land, too, thus broke, and brought in by potato's,
Produces the cream of our northern cheer:
In crops of rich barley, that comfort and treat us,
To Innoshonc whiskey, and Maghera beer.
Then here's to the brave boys who plant ’em and eat ’em;
To fatten their pigs, their wanes, and their wives ;
May none of the Corporals principles seize them,
To shorten their days, or embitter their lives.
Chorus.
Sweet roots of Erin ! we can't live without them,
No tongue can express their importance to man.
Poor corporal Cobbett knows nothing about them;
We’ll boil them, and eat them as long as we can.
Chapter on Pockets

One! long life to the girls who revive without bother,
The mode of our darling original mother ;
For Eve was as straight as the sticks of sky rockets,
And first set the fashion of wearing no pockets.
Then ladies go cool, and don’t care a splinter
For easterly winds and cold frosty winter.
With petticoats light, genteely and clever,
Then flannel be d d and the ague for ever.
Mistress Eve who with panniers her sides could not saddle,
Ne’er thought on a pocket to hold in her daddle.
By my soul, the invention’s quite handy and sensible,
To bless every lady’s sweet indispensable.
The ladies go cool, &c.Och! from Cork Paddy came and the English defin’d him,
For wearing his coat neatly button’d behind him.
Tit for tat, English girls, the Pats all adore you,
So pray visit Cork with your pockets before you.
Then ladies go cool, &c-

The late Tristram Shandy, and no man was apter,
Once threaten’d, on pockets, to write a good chapter.
My chapter on pockets I gave harum skarum,
So, bless the dear creatures wherever they wear them.
Then ladies go cool, and don’t care a splinter
For easterly winds and cold frosty winter
With petticoats light, genteely and clever,
Then flannel be d  -d and the ague for ever.
GARLAND OF LOVE
How sweet are the flowers that grow by yon fountain,
And sweet are the cowslips that sparkle the grove;
And sweet is the breeze that blows over the mountain,
But sweeter by far is the lad that I love !
I’ll weave a gay garland,
A fresh blowing garland,
With Lillies and roses,
And sweet blowing posies,
To give to the lad my heart tells me I love.
It was down in the vale, where the sweet Torza gliding,
In murmuring streams ripple through the dark grove,
I own’d what I felt, all my passions confiding,
To ease the fond sighs of the lad that I love.
Then I'll weave a gay garland, &c.WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST,
Where shall the lover rest,
W horn the fates sever,
From his true maiden’s breast,
Parted for ever:	.	,
Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billows,
Where early violets die Coder tire willow.
Chorus—Eleu, loro, he. Soft shall be his pillow.
There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving, There, while the tempests sway, Sea. ce are boughs waving;
I here, thy rest shall thou take, Parted for ever,
Never again to wake,
Never! 0 never!
Chorus—Eleu, loro, &c. Never! O never!
Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win a maiden’s heart Rum and leave her.
In the lost battle,
Horne down by the flying, When mingled wars rattle",
With groans of the dying.
Chorus—Eleu, loro, he. There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap O’er the-false hearted ;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap, Fre lile be parted.Shame and dishonor sit By his grave ever ;
Blessings shall hallow it,
Never ! O never !
Chorus—Eleu, loro, &c. Never! O never!
NAVAL SONG.
By Edwin C. Holland.
Air—‘ The Glasses Sparkle.’
High fill the bowl, and round it twine The laurel wreath of fame,
The wreath that blooms thro* latest time, To deck the hero’s name:
To Perry and his gallant host,
The sparkling wine shall flow,
They tam’d the pride of Britain’s boast, And brought iter glory low.
Stern o’er the dark tempestuous wave, That heaves its sullen swell,
O’er many a hero bold and brave,
Who in that combat fell,
The shouting host of freemen rose, Unfurl’d the flag of fight.
And bade defiance to their foes,
To Britain and her might.
Together now the squadrons ride,
The thund’ring cannons roar,
The lightnings flash from side to side, And slaughter wades in gore :Fierce horror now patrols the deck,
To swell the rage of fight,
And tumult flies with hurried step,
And wild averted sight.
Where Perry mov’d, the god of war
More fiercely seem’d to glow,
Destruction like a baleful star
Hain’d terror on the foe;
From soul to soul the pride of fame,
The love of country flies,
And every heart receiv’d the flame,
That lighten’d in his eyes.
No longer rocks the battles sweep,
On Erie’s stormy tides,
But o’er its wild and ruffled deep,
Victorious! Pt ltuv rides :
Rise ! f reemen of Columbia, rise!
Exalt the hero’s name,
Through distant lands and foreign skies,
Sound! sound the trump of fame!!!
LIFE LET US CHERISH,
Lite let us cherish, while yet the taper glows
And the fresh flowret pluck, e’re it close,
Why are we fond of toil and care,
Why choose the rankling thorn to wear,
And heedless by the lilly stray,
Which blossoms in our way.
When clouds obscure the atmosphere,
And forked lightnings rend the airThe sun resumes his silver crest,
And smiles adorn the west.

The genial seasons soon are o’er,
Then let us, e’re we quit this shore,
Contentment seek, it is life’s zest,
The sunshine of the breast.

Away with every toil and care,
And cease the rankling thorn to wear,
With manful hearts life’s conflict meet,
Till death sounds the retreat.
YOUNG LOBSKI.

Sung by Mr. Jefferson, in the Exile.

Young Lobski said to his ugly wife,
' I’m of!' till to-morrow to fish, my life,’
Says Mrs. Lobski, ‘ I’m sure you ain't,
But you brute, you are going to gallivant,
To gallivant, to gallivant,
You brute you are going to gallivant.’

What Mrs. Lobski said was right,
Gay Mr, Lobski staid out all night,
He ne’er went to fish, ’tis known very well,
But where he went I shall not tell,
I shall not tell, &c.

Next morning Mr. Lobski knew
He had caught no fish, so he bought a few
CThinks he my wife won’t smoke my plot,
And she will bite, though the fish did not.
Though the fish did not, &c.

When Lobski to his spouse drew near,
Says she, * what sport have you had, my dear ?’
‘ The river (says he) is full of water rats,
So 1 have only caught you a dozen sprats.'
A dozen sprats, &c.

' A dozen sprats, base man, (says she,)
What! catch in the river the fish of the sea 
You can throw a long line, Mr. Lobski, I know,
But tis clear you can draw a much longer bow
A longer bow, &c.

MORAL.
Let all men who are frail in flesh,
Observe wit -water is not fresh ;
For wives their husbands will condemn.
Who think with sprats to gudgeon them.
To gudgeon them, &c.

WHAT CAN A LASSY DO,
Young Jemmy’s ganging after me
The live long day and night,
Anil always kissing too is he,
When father’s out of sight:
But dinna, lad, be teazing so,
For this I’ll tell you true,
If thou art ever pleasing so,
What can a lassy do ?	He shanna more be pressing mp, (Its muckle truth I vow)
Nor shall be be caressing me,
As sure he did just now ;
And so I’ll tell him when we meet, I winnahear his loo;
For when a kddy is so sweet, What can IWssy do ?
I wonder where the youth can be,
O whither can he stray?
But that is nothing sure to me,
Ro let him stay away;
For should he tell his wily tide, And want to buckle too,
I really think be woidd prevail I What can a lassy do?
O’eh the trident of Neptune Britannia had boasted,
Her flag triumphantly flew ;
And her fleet, undisturb’d, round America coasted,
Till Hull taught the foe what our seamen could do.
I>et the trumpet of fame tell the story,
And our tars give to honor and glory;
Hark! hark ! how the cannon like thunder docs mttlet See our heroes quite cool in the heat of the battle!
See tbe bold Constitution the Ouerriere o’ertaking,
While seas from her fury divide:
The all-conquering foe her thunder is raking—
Now her mizen-mast falls in the deep by her side.
Her hulk now our bullets are tearing;
The blood from her scuppers is pouring See ! see ! slie’s aboard. Snail we yield boys ? no, never; We’ll fight for our rights on the ocean for ever.
rut: TRUMPET OF FAME,Brave Hull gives the order for boarding! but wonder, By the board main and foremasts both go ;
A lee gun now proclaims she submits to our thuader, Which drown’d the vain boast of our now humbled foe. Huzza! now the conquest proclaiming,
Now our tars see the Gurriere flaming :
See! see1 as she burns, sink thadjattle's commotion ; She blows up! and scattefe her hulk o’er the ocean.
Equal force—let Rritannia send out her whole navy,
Our heroes in bondage to drag,
And our sailors will send them express to old Davy,
Or forfeit their lives, in defence of our flag.
Let the trumpet of fame tell the story,
And our tars give to honor and glory.
Deathldeath they’ll prefer,ere from honor they’ll sever; Then glory to Hull and our navy forever.
THE TOAST.
llziu.’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen, Likewise to the widow of fifty :
Here's to the bold and extravagant queen,
And here’s to the housewife that’s thrifty.
Let the toast pass,
Drink to the lass, i’ll warrant she’ll prove an excuse for the glass.
Here’s to the maiden whose dimples we prize, And likewise to her that has none, sir :
Here’s to the maid with a pair of blue eyes,
And here is to her that’s but one, sir.
Let the toast pass, &c.Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow,
And to her that’s as brown as a berry :
And here’s to the wife with a face full of woe, And here’s to the girl that is merry.
Let the toast pass, he.
Let her be clufftsy, or let her be slim,
Young, or ancient, I care not a feather :
So fill the pint bumper quite to the brim,
And e’en let us toast them together.
Let the toast pass,
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she’ll prove an excuse for the glass.
Tnr. spruce Mr. Clark Was a young Essex spark A farmer uxorious and rich ;
He loved dearly as his life,
Fried bacon and his wife,
‘ And (says he) my duck, we’ll claim the flitch.
Mrs. Clark (’twas in bed)
Loved bacon, she said,
But she vow’d she’d no more sec it spoil’d ; Crying, * Clark, you’re much mistaken,
If you thinks to fry that bacon ;
I insists that every bit shall be boil’d.*
Mr. Clark, though ’twas night,
Jump’d in bed bolt upright,
Quite enraged jit his rib by bis side,
And says he, * Now madam, mark Though I love you, Mrs. Clark,
I’ll be d——d if it shan’t all be fried.’
C 2
fliTch of bacon.The dispute ran so high
 ’Twixt a boil and a fry,
That Clarke, though he argued it roundly,
Put an end to all turmoiling,
As to frying or to boiling,
By basting Mrs. Clarke very soundly

These turtles, no doubt,
Very soon found out,
That their claim to the flitch must be shaken;
They had children blythe as larks,
But all the little Clarkes,
Were mark’d with a rasher of bacon.
AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORIES.

Tune—' Heaving the Lead'

When Britain saw her sons were brave,
She urg’d her sceptre o’er the main,
And, next, intended to enslave,
At least—her rivals, France and Spain.
Her iron yoke in secret hung,
While all her loyal subjects sung,
Britain is free.

Now, steady to her purpose, she
Allied old Scotia to her cause ;
And then, to make Hibernia free,
Protected her by British laws,
But ere in chains the two were flung,
In tones of liberty were sung,
Magna Charta.Columbia friendless, still was free,
When Britain would protect the state* ;
But knowing her duplicity,
They spurn’d her deep-laid artful baits.
When, on the states the lion sprung:
But they repuls’d the beast—and sung
Britons are slaves.
The vanquish’d foe re-cross’d the sea,
And peace resum’d her smiling train,
Until, forgetting we were fuse.
Britannia warr’d with us again.
Her thousand ships, o’er ocean strung,
Our handful hied to sea, and sung,
Freemen strike home!
* Thou, liberty!’ each freeman said,
* That mad’st our sires their hardships brave,
Wilt teach their Sons their steps to tread,
And safely keep the rights they gave,
Then widely shall the welkin ring,
While ages yet unborn shall sing,
Here freedom dwells.’
When., as the eagle scours the air,
Or lion wrestles with his prey:
So Hull assail’d the ship Guerrierc,
And swept the British flag away.
His lightnings flash’d and thunder rung,
And every whizzing bullet sung,
Columbia’s free.

Mow, victory, who to prowess leans,
Delighted, made the officious vow,
* That, in the proper use of means,
She’d plant her staff on every prow.’The tars then to their standard clung,
And shouting ‘ liberty,' they sung,
* Strike! British slaves.*
Next Wasp and Frolic fiercely met,
Like Constitution and Guerriere,
When Jones, like Hull, did Bull defeat,
And check again his mad career.
Now fame’s wide trumpet loudly rung,
While freemen through Columbia sung,
Trade shall be free!
Now Neptune, over the buoyant wave,
Right onward drove his liquid car,
To hail America tlie brave,
And make her navy welcome there.
Mis trident thus from Britain wrung,
He join’d the Naiads while they sung,
The seas are free.
As Jones and gallant Hull had done,
Decatur next a conquest made—
The Macedonian, fought, and won,
Is safely into port conveyed-
Now on the land these lie roes sprung,
And to their wives and sweethearts sung,
 Our rights at sea.’
Next Bainbridge, with unerring aim,
Dealt death among the Java’s crew ;
And then to tip tlie plume of fame,
Brave Lawrence pierc’d the Peacock thro’. S
uch victories never mortal tongue,
Emphatic spoke or fondly sung,
Hail Columbia!But now a greater deed is wrought,
By Burrows, of the Enterprise;
Who, wounded rules—till victory's bought,
Then takes the Boxer’s sword—and dies!
Should Britain now a Nelson ring,
Columbia will her Burrows sing,
And cloud his fame.

Now Perry’s bellowing cannon hurls
Submission through a British fleet;
When Erie’s duteous billowy curls,
Convey them to Columbia’s feet,
While Chauncey, Porter, Rodgers flung,
Those shot that mutt’ring, sternly sung,
Britain beware!

As fought our thundering ships of war,
The privateersmen swept the seas,
And took each British sail they saw,
Or scourg’d them—and escaped with ease.
Thus Bull to sore distraction sung,
In bitter anguish, said or sung,
Name—all is lost!
DRINK TO ME ONLY.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine ;
Or breathe a kiss within the cup,
And I’ll not ask for wine.
Drink to me, &c.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Requires a drink divine;But might I of Jove’s nectar sip,
I would not barter thine.
Drink to me, &c.

I sent thee late a roseate wreathe,
Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there
It would not withered be.
Drink to me, &c.

But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent it back to me;
Since when it blooms and smells, I sweat*;
Not of itself, but thee.
Drink to me, &c.

THE WHIP CLUB ; OR LAUGH AND BE WISE.

Sung by Grimaldi, at Sadler’s Wells.

Fashion’s all fiddle-de-dee,
For playing the fool I seem made;
But what’s to become of poor me ?
’Tis the fashion to take iny trade.
In the whip-club exalted I stand,
As the cut of my coat will imply,
And while driving, d’ye mind, four in hand,
Can completely cut out a fly’s eye.

Spoken—Lord Slum, the honorable Mr. Snook, sif Thingumbob What-d’ye call-um, and I, drove tun-(Lin like Pfuttoni; we square all round, and cut such figures! I laugh, he! he! he! and you’d laugh, ha! ha! ha! so let’s all laugh, haw! haw! haw ! Eh ! oh, tol de rol, &c.Driving tandem one day in a gig,
Full spank through the streets went the tits,
The ponies took fright'at a pig,
And threw an old woman in fits ;
The leader broke trace, by the bye,
And down a blind lane t’other scuds,
Capsized down a cellar went I,
Plump into a tub full of suds !
Spoken—I fell like another Phxtmi. * What d’ye want ?’ said the laundress: 4 A drop of comfort,’ said 1; and if she hadn’t given it me, I should certainly have died of a dub -wash. I rose from the suds like Wenui from the sea; and I laughed, he 1 he! he f and the washer-woman laughed, &.c.
My big buttons will shew my degree
In the whip-club, a compact sublime !
And for choice souls what better can be,
Than getting the whip-hand of time ?
Some pretty gape-seed we produce,
Though it is playingthe fool the wise tell;
Hut though lords have for that no excuse,
With me why it’s all very well.

Spoken.—It’s all in my way, you know; I play the fool to show others the absurdity of it: out capers to drive away care, and make ugly mugs to drive away melancholy; and if every one on life’s stage acted His part with such zeal and fidelity, and endeavored like me to put the brightest side on every thing, we should all be so happy—I should laugh, lie! be ! lie4 &c.Whix* I hang on your bosom distracted to lose you,
High swells my sad heart, and fast my tears flow;
Yet think not of coldness, they fall to accuse you,
Hid I ever upbraid you ? oh no, my love, no!

I own it would please me, at home could you tarry,
Nor e’er feel a wish from Marian to go;
But it gives pleasure to you, my dear Harry,
Shall I blame your departure ? oh no, my love, no

Now do not, dear Hal, while abroad you are straying,
That heart which is mine on a rival bestow ;
Nay, banish that frown, such displeasure betraying.
Do you think I suspect you ? oh no, my love, no!

I believe you too kind for one moment to grieve me,
Or plant in a heart which adores you such woe;
Yet should you dishonor my truth and deceive me,
Should I e’er cease to love you ? oh no, my love no!
WHEN PENSIVE I THOUGHT OF MY LOVE,

When pensive I thought of my love,
The moon on the mountains was bright;
And Philomel down in the grove,
Broke sweetly tlie silence of night:

O ! I wish that the tear drop would flow,
But felt too much anguish to weep,
’Till wan by the weight of my woe,
I sunk on my pillow to sleep.Methought that my love as I lay,
His ringlets ail clotted with gore,
In the paleness of death seem’d to say,
Alas ! we must never meet more!
Yes, yes, my belov’d, we must part,
The steel of my rival was true,
The assassin has struck on that heart
Which beats with such fervor for yotr.
THE HOBBIES

Attention pray give, while of Hobbies I sing;
For each has his hobby from cobler to king:
On some favorite hobby we all get astride,
And when we're once mounted full gallop we ride.
All on hobbies, all on hobbies,
All on hobbies, gee up, gee O.

Some hobbies are restive and hard for to govern,
Even just like our wives, they’re so cursedly stubborn,
The hobbies of scolds are their husbands to teaze,
And the hobbies of lawyers are plenty of fees.
That’s their hobby, &c.

The beaux, those sweet gentleman’s hobbies, good lack!
Is to wear great large poultices tied round the neck;
And think in the ton and the tippy they’re drest,
If they’ve breeches that reach from the ankle to chest.
That’s their hobby, &c.

The hobbies of sailors, when safe moor’d in port,
Are their wives and their sweethearts to toy with & sport.
When our navy’s completed, their hobby shall be,
To shew the whole world that America’s free.
That’s their hobbv, &c.

DThe hobbies of soldiers in time of great wars,
Are breaches and battles, with blood, wounds and scars
But in peace you’ll observe that quite different their trade is
The hobbies of soldiers, in peace, are the ladies.
That’s their hobby, &c.

The ladies, sweet creatures, yes, they now and then
Get astride of their hobbies, ay, just like the men
With smiles and with simpers beguile us with ease,
And we gallop, trot, amble, e‘en just as they please.
That’s their hobby, &c.

The American’s hobby has long since been known ;
No tyrant or king shall from them have a throne ;
Their states are united, and let it be said,
Their hobby is liberty, peace, and free trade.
That’s their hobby, that’s their hobby,
That’s their hobby, gee up, gee O.
PHELIM'S courtship.

0ne moonshiny night, about two in the morning,
I wandered myself, all alone, in the dark,
Not a crature was with me but flora, whose scorning,
On my poor hidden heart made a visible mark.
Then list to my ditty,
So woeful and pretty,
Och, tunther! if ever a fiction was true ;
You'll be after declaring,
My case is past bearing,
So grating to me—though diverting to youMy name, let me tell you, is Phelim O’Blarney,
just come all the way from the town of Tarlee,
My father was boru by the Lake of Killarney,
Ay, faith an my shoul many years before me ;
Nor need you to wonder,
’Tis not the first blunder,
That nature has made in her comical whims,
For one might have told her,
Dad ne’er had been older,
If Phelim, his son, had been born before him.

I’ve got a fine house—Och ! you ne’er saw its marrow,
That only wants building to make it complete,
So to it let’s fly like a bow from an arrow,
’Twill prove a rare place for our ancestors’ seat !
Then come, my kind jewel,
No longer be cruel,
I long to enjoy the sweet galloping din,
Like gems in a casket,
We’ll ride in the basket,
If the coach be set off, e’er we get to the inn.

By St. Patrick you’ll ne’er find me fibbing and swelling,
Bad luck to all braggers, I hate such a plan;
Your swaggering puppies mav after be telling,
How long their descent before Adam's began;
Before the creation,
My fam’d generation,
Who lived in the world by themselves all alone ;
Invented potato’s,
Whose worth now so great is,
We Irishmen call them roast beef without bone,

Then let us be jogging along to our mansion,
You shall walk by my side while I follow before ;My heart’s so contracted by Cupid’s expansion,
Though I‘ve said all I can, yet I’ll say somewhat more;
As hot burning cinder
Turns clouts into tinder,
The flame of your coyness too frigidly glows,
That it has, my sweet creature,
From Phelim’s good nature,
Extorted a secret that every one knows.

Arrah, faith ! and the force of mv passion so great is,
No mother’s son dares to tell Phelim he lies;
When he solemnly swears to shebeen and potato’s,
He prefers a good least on his Flora’s bright eyes,
Both sleeping and waking,
He’s trembling and quaking,
Nor noon, night or morning, from dreaming can keep;
Och! honey, ’tis vexing,
And cursed perplexing,
So oft to be waked before one’s asleep?

Now come, my sweet angel, be after complying,
Believe me, I swear on the word of a man,
I’ll try to adore you until I am dying,
Ay, faith ! and much longer—that is, if I can.
So sweet little devil,
No more be uncivil:
Och! prithee, my jewel, with Phelim agree :
But, if after this tender,
You do not surrender,
Bad luck to my shoul if I’ll ever have thee.

TO ANACREON IN HEAVEN.

To Anacreon in heaven, where he sat in full glee,
A few sons of harmony sent a petition,That he their inspirer and patron would be ;
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian?
Voice, fiddle, and flute,
No longer be mute,
I’ll lend you my name,
And inspire you to boot;
And besides, I’ll instruct you like me to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.
And besides I’ll instruct you, &c.

The news through Olympus immediately flew ;
When Old Thunder pretended to give himself airs—
' If these mortals arc suffered their scheme to pursue,
‘ The devil a goddess will stay above stairs.
‘ Mark ! already they cry,
‘ In transports of joy,
‘ Away to the sons
* Of Anacreon we’ll fly,
‘ And there with good fellows, we’ll learn to entwine
‘ The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.
And there with good fellows, &c.

‘ The yellow-hair’d God, and his nine fusty maids,
‘ From Helicon’s banks will incontinent flee,
' Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades,
‘ And the bi-forked hill a mete desert will be.
‘ My thunder, no fear on’t,
' Shall soon do its errand,
' And d -----n me,
‘ I'll swinge the ringleaders, I warrant,
‘ I'll trim the young dogs for thus daring to twine
‘ The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s wine
I’ll trim the young dogs, &c

D2Apollo rose up, and said, ‘ Pr’ythee ne’er quarrel,
‘ Good king of the gods, with my vot’ries below .
' Your thunder is useless’—then, shewing his laurel,
Cried, ‘ Sic evitable fulmen, you know !
' Then over each head
' My laurels I’ll spread;
' So my sons from your crackers
‘ No mischief shall dread,
' Whilst snug in their club-room they jovially twine,
‘ The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.’
Whilst snug in their club-room, &c.

Next Momus got up with his risible phiz,
Ancl swore with Apollo he’d cheerfully join—
' The tide of full harmony still shall be his,
' But the song and the catch, and the laugh shall be mine.
' Then Jove, be not jealous
‘ Of these honest fellows,’
Cried Jove, ' We relent,
' Since the truth now you tell us;
' And swear by old Styx that they long shall entwine
‘ The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.’
And swear by old Styx, &c

Ye sona of Anacreon, then, join hand in hand ;
Preserve unanimity, friendship, and love;
’Tis your’s to support what is happily planned :
You’ve the sanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove,
While thus we agree,
Our toast let it be,
May our club flourish happy,
United and free!
And long may the sons of Anacreon entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine
And long may the sons of Anacreon entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine-THE AMERICAN STAR.

Come strike the hold anthem, the war-dog's are howling,
Already they eagerly snuff’up their prey,
The red clouds of war o'er our forests are scowling,
Soft peace spreads her wings and flies weeping away :
The infants affrighted, cling close to their mothers,
The youths grasp their swords and for combat prepare,
While beauty weeps, fathers, lovers and brothers,
Who rush to display the American star.

Come blow the shrill bugle—the loud drum awaken—
The dread rifle seize—let the cannon deep roar ;
No heart with pale fear, or faint doubtings be shaken,
No slave's hostile foot leave a print on our shore;
Shall mothers, wives, daughters and sisters left weeping,
Insulted by ruffians, be dragged to despair!
Oh no—from her hills the proud eagle comes sweeping,
And waves to the brave the American star.

The spirits of Washington, Warren, Montgomery,
Look down from the clouds with bright aspects serene,
Come soldiers, a tear, and a toast to their memory,
Rejoicing they’ll see us as once they have been.
To us the high boon by the gods has been granted,
To spread the glad tidings of liberty far;
Let millions invade us, we’ll meet them undaunted,
And conquer or die by the American star !

Your hands then, dear comrades, round liberty’s altar,
United we swear by the souls of the brave!
Not one from the strong resolution shall faulter,
To live independent, or sink to the grave!
Then freemen till up—lo ! the strip'd banners flying,
The high birds of liberty scream through thy air,
Beneath her oppression and tyranny dying—
Success to the beaming American star.THE LAND OF POTATO'S 0.

Oh, had I in the clear, but five hundred a year,
’Tis myself would not fear, tho’ not added one farthing to it,
Faith if such was my lot, little Ireland's the spot,
Where I'd build a snug cot, with a bit of a garden to it.
As for Italy's dales, their Alps and high vales ;
And their fine squalling gales, their seignoras,so heat us O,
I'd near unto them come, nor abroad never roam,
But enjoy my sweet home in the land of Potato’s, O.
Hospitality, all reality, no formality, there you'll ever see.,
But so free and easy, that we would amaze you,
You'd think us all crazy, for dull we never be.

If our friend honest Jack would but take a small hack,
So get on his back, and in joy ride over full to us,
He throughout the whole year then should have the best cheer;
For faith no one's so dear as our brother John Bull to us;
And we'd teach him when there both to blunder and swear,
And our brogue with him share which both genteel and neat is O,
By St. Patrick I think, when we'd teach him to drink,
That he'd ne’er wish to shrink from the laud of Potato's, 0.
Hospitality, &c.

Tho' I frankly agree that I'd more happy be,
If some heavenly she in tills country would favor me ;
For no spot upon earth can more merit bring forth,
If beauty and worth can embellish, such is she,
Good breeding, good nature, you see in each feature,
So nought you've to teach her so nice & complete she's O;
Then if fate would but send unto me such a friend,
What a life could I spend in the land of Potato's O-
Hospitality, all reality, no formality, there you'll ever sec,
But so free and easy, that we would amaze you,
You'd think us all crazy, for dull we never be.THE ILL WIFE.

As soon as I got married, a happy man to be,
My wife turned out a sorry jade, we never could agree ;
For what I thought my greatest bliss was grief beyond compare,
And all the cause of my complaint, she’s mine forever mair,
For she’s aye plague plagu'ing, and she’s aye plagu‘ing me,
She’s aye a plague plagu'ing, and never let’s me be

About a week or something less, a bonnie thing she was,
But ere the second Sunday came, she made me cry alas !
Oh ! often times I cry alas ! ’tis needless here to tell,
The weight of it lies all on this, the jade she knows hersel.
For she’s aye a plagu'ing, &c.

My house I dare not call my own, nor any thing that’s in’t.
And if I chance to speak a word, she flies like fire from flint:
My very hair I dare not cut, my clothes I dare not wear.
And all, both clothes and money too, she keeps me naked bare.
For she’s aye strip stripping, &c.

Right well she knows I dearly love a dainty dish of meat,
She cooks it up so dirtily, the de'el a bit I eat;
And if I turn my mouth awry, or chance to shake my head,
She calls me filthy boor, and says, I’m very ill to feed.
For she’s aye starve starving, &c.

When I am for merriment, oh ! then she’s very sad,
And when I am for soberness, she goes distracted mad ,When I wish to hear her speak, she silent sits and dumb,
And when I am for quietness, she rattles like a drum.
For she’s aye drum drumming, &c.

Yestr’een my neighbor Tom and I went our throats to wet,
She thundered in my lugs so loud, I think I hear her yet;
And when her barley hood is on, which often is the case,
The first thing that comes to her hands she dashes in my face.
For she’s aye dash dashing, &c.

That marriage is a Paradise I’ve often heard folks tell,
But for my own part—first and last—I think its worse than hell—
And yet there is a comfort left—a comfort and no more,
The pangs of death will break the bands and bury all my care.
For she’ll soon soon bury, she’ll soon bury me,
She’ll soon soon bury, and then she’ll let me be.
WAKE, MAID OF LORN !

Written by Walter Scott, Esq.

Wake, maid of Lorn! the moments fly,
Which yet that maiden name allow;
Wake, maiden wake ! the hour is nigh,
Where love shall claim a plighted vow.
By fear, thy bosom’s fluttering guest,
By hope, that soon shall fears remove,
We bid thee break the bonds of rest,
And wake thee at the call of love !
Wake, Edith, wake !
Wake, Edith, wake !Wake, Edith, wake! in yonder bay,
Lies many a galley gaily mann’d,
We hear the merry pibrocks play,
We see the streamers silken band.
What chieftain’s praise these pibrocks swell,
What crest is on these banners wove,
The harp, the minstrel, dare not tell—
The riddle must be read, by love!
Wake, Edith, wake!
Wake, Edith, wake!
Bright Phoebus

Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day.
And the horns and the hounds call each sportsmen away,
And the horns and the hounds call each sportsmen away.
Through woods and through meadows, with speed now they bound,
While health, rosy health, is in exercise found.
Through woods and through meadows, &c.
hark, away ! hark, away !
Hark, away, is the word to the sound of the horn—
And echo! and echo !
And echo ! biythe echo ! makes jovial the morn.

Each hill and each valley is lovely to view,
While puss flies the covert, and dogs quick pursue ,
Behold where she flies o’er the wide spreading plain,
While the loud op’oing pack pursue her amain.
Hark, away! hark, away ! &c.

At length puss is caught and lies panting for breath,
And the shout of the huntsman’s the signal for deathNo joys can delight like the sports of the field,
To hunting, all pleasures and pastimes must yield
No joys can delight, &c.
Hark, away ! hark away!
Hark, away, is the word to the sound of the horn—
And echo ! and echo !
And echo! blythe echo! makes jovial the morn,
ALL'S WELL.

Deserted by the waning moon,
When skies proclaim night’s cheerless noon ;
On tower, fort, or tented ground,
The sentry walks his lonely round,
The sentry walks his lonely round-,
The sentry walks, &c.
And should a foot step haply stray,
Where caution marks the guarded way,
Where caution marks the guarded way.
The guarded way.
Who goes there ? Stranger ! quickly tell.
A friend. The word, good night
All’s well! all’s well!
'l'he word, good night, all’s well

Or sailing on the midnight deep,
While weary messmates soundly sleep,
The careful watch patrols the deck,
To guard the ship from foes or wreck,
To guard the ship from foes or wreck,
To guard the ship, &c.
And while his thoughts oft homeward veer,.
Some friendly voice salutes his ear.
Some well known voice salutes his ear,
Salutes his ear:
What cheer? Brother! quickly tell.
Above—below, good night;
All’s well! all’s well!
Above—below, all, all’s well ?

JESSIE, THE FLOWER 0' DUMBLAINE-

The sun has gane down o’er the lofty Benlomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o’er the scene;
While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming,
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o* Dumblaine.
How sweet is the briar wi’ its saft faulding blossom,
And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o’ green;
Yet sweeter an’ fairer, an’ dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblaine.

She’s modest as ony, an’ blythe as she’s bonny,
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ;
An’ far be the villain, divested o’ feeling,
Who’d blight in the bloom the sweet flower o’ Dumblaine.
Sing on thou sweet Mavis, thy hymn to the e’ening,
Thou’rt dear to the echo’s o’ Calder-wood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, so artless and winning,
Is charming young Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblaine.

How lost were my days, till I met wi’ my Jessie,
The sports o’ the city seem’d foolish and vain.
I ne’er saw a nymph I would ca’ my dear lassie ;
Till charmed wi’ sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblaine. 
Though mine were tlie station, o’ loftiest grandeur,
Amidst the profusion, I’d languish in pain,
An’ reckon as naething the height o’ its splendor,
If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblaine.
EBAY OF BISCAY O!

Loco roar’d the dreadful thunder 
The rain a deluge showers;
The clouds were rent asunder
By lightning’s vivid powers.
The night both drear and dark,
Our poor devoted bark,
Till next day,
There she lay,
In the Bay of Biscay, O !

Now dash’d upon the billows.
Our op’ning timbers creak :
Each fears a watery pillow,
None stops the dreadful leak
To climb the slippery shrouds,
Each breathless seaman crouds,
As she lay,
Till the clay,
In the Bay of Biscay, O!

At length the wish’d for morrow.
Broke through the hazy sky ;
Absorb’d in silent sorrow,
Each heav’d the bitter sigh ;
The dismal wreck to view,
Struck horror to the crew,
As she lay,
On that day,
In the Bay of Biscay, O !

Her yielding timbers sever,
Her pitchy seams are rent;
When heaven all bounteous ever,
Its boundless mercy scot,A sail in sight appears,
We hail her with three cheers !
Now we sail,
With the gale,
From the Bay of Biscay, 0 !
THE BANKS OF CHAMPLAIN.
Tune—‘ The Banks of the Dee*

'Twis autumn, and round me the leaves were descending,
And lonely the wood-pecker pecked on the tree;
Whilst thousands their freedom and rights were defending,
The din of their arms sounded dismal to me;
For Sandy, my love, was engaged in the action;
Without him I valued the world not a fraction ;
His death would have ended my life in distraction,
As lonely I strayed on the banks of Champlain.

Then turning tp list to the cannon’s loud thunder.
My elbow I leaned on a rock near the shore;
Tlie sounds nearly parted my heart-strings asunder,
I thought I should see my dear shepherd no more;
But soon an express all mv sorrows suspended,
My thanks to the Father of Mercies ascended ;
My shepherd was safe, and nay country defended
By freedom’s brave sons on the banks of Champlain.

I wip’d from my eyes the big tear that had started,
And hastened the news to my parents to bear,
Who sighed for the loss of relations departed,
And wept at the tidings that banished their care.The cannon ceased roaring', the drums still were beating;
The foes of our country far north were retreating ;
The neighboring damsels, each other were greeting
With songs of delight, on the banks of Champlain.

Our squadron triumphant, our army victorious,
With laurels unfaded, our Spartan’s returned;
My eyes never dwelt on a scene half so glorious ;
My heart with such rapture before never burned ;
But Sandy, my darling, that moment appearing ;
His presence to every countenance cheering,
Was rendered to me more doubly endearing,
By the feats he performed on the banks of Champlain;

But should smiling peace with her blessings and treasures,
Soon visit the plains of Columbia again,
What pen can describe the enrapturing pleasure,
That I shall experience through life with my swain ;
For then no wild savage will come to alarm us ;
No worse, British foes send their minions to harm us,
But nature and art will continue to charm us,
Whilst happy we live on the banks of Champlain.
PERRY'S victory.

0’ee the bosom of Erie, in fanciful pride,
Did the fleet of Old England exultingly ride ;
Till the flag of Columbia her Perry unfurl’d.
The boast of the west and the pride of the world !
And still should the foe dare the fight to sustain,
Gallant Perry shall lead on to conquest again-The spirit of Lawrence his influence sheds,
To the van of the fight while the Lawrence he leads,
There death dealt around, tho’such numbers oppose,
And levelled the gun at fair liberty’s foes.
And still should the foe, &c.

When cover’d with slain, from her deck he withdrew,
And led the Niagara the fight to renew ;
Where, undaunted in danger, our sea-beaten tars,
O’er the cross of St. George waved the stripes and the stars!
And still should the foe, &c.

Six ships, while our banners triumphantly flew,
Submitted to tars who were born to subdue ;
When they rush’d to the battle, resolv’d to maintain,
The freedom of trade, and our right to the main !
And still should the foe, &c.

With the glory of conquest our heroes are crown’d,
Let their brows with the bright naval chaplet be bound;
For still should the foe dare the fight to sustain,
Gallant Perry shall lead them to conquest again.
For still should the foe, &c.
The Tidy one.

I Married a wife, ‘ who cares,’ says I,
A pattern she was of good breeding, O
The pink of feeling and delicacy,
And she learnt it from novel reading, O.
A rose once bloom’d on her lovely' cheek,
But so stick to her books did this pride o’ one.
E 2She washed her face but once a week,
And wasn’t she a tidy one ?
A tidy one, a tidy one, &c.
While dressing1 the dinner one day, she got
A novel she was concluding, O;
Quite absent,—with soap-suds she fill’d the pot,
And in it she boil’d the pudding, O !
My shaving-brush mislaid had I,
When a novel all day she had cried o'er one,
And I found the brush in a beef-steak pie;
O wasn’t she a tidy one ?
A tidy one, a tidy one, &c.
My tea she sweeten’d once with salt,
Put Cayenne in a custard, O,
Mistaking ever meal for malt,
She brimstone mix’d for mustard, 0 !
I ask'd her a cravat to wash for me,
When a novel I had denied her one,
So she clear-starch’d the cravat in camomile tea,
And wasn’t she a tidy one ?
A tidy one, a tidy one, &c.

O’er the 'Victim of Feeling’ she snivelling sat,
While the child in the fire chanc’d falling, O,
And she feelingly bawl’d out 'O curse the brat,
The devil can’t read for his squalling, O.’
Ye fair, there's for all things time and place,
And a good novel may be the pride o’ one,
Put don't set down to read till you've wash'd your face
Or lud help him who gets such a tidy one.
A tidy one, a tidy one, &c.THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

Yet it was not that nature had shed o’er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ;
’Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh ! no—it was something more exquisite still.

’Twas that friends, the belov’d of my bosom, were near.
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the blest charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love,

Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the frends I love best,
Where the storms which we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
THE EXILE OF ERIN.

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe hung heavy and chill
For his country he sigh’d, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill:
But the day star attracted his eyes’ sad devotion,
For it rose on its own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the glow of his youthful emotion,
He sung the bold anthem of Erin go bragh !‘ Oh! sad. is my fate,’ said the heart broken stranger
‘ The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee ;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
A home and a country remain not to me !
Ah, never again in the green shady bowers
Where my forefathers liv’d, shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,
And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!

' Erin ! my country, though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore,
But, alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!
Oh, cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me
In the mansion of peace, whence no peril can chace me ?
Ah, never again shall my brothers embrace me—
They died to defend me. or liv’d to deplore !

‘ Oh ! where is mv cabin door, fast by the wild wood ?
Sisters and sire did ye weep for its fall ?
Where is the mother that look’d on my childhood ;
And where is the bosom friend dearer than all ?
Ah, my sad soul, long abandon’d by pleasure !
Why did it doat on a fast lading treasure ?
Tears like the rain drop, may fall without measure,
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall !

‘ But yet, all its fond recollections suppressing,
One dying wish my lone bosom shall draw;
Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing;
Land of my fore-fathers, Erin go bragh !
Buried and cold when mv heart stills its motion,
Green be thy fields sweetest isle of the ocean ;
And may harp stringing hards sing aloud with devotion,
Erin ma vomeen—Erin go bragh !’Oh! breathe not his name.

Oh ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonor’d his relics are laid :
Sad, silent and dark be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o’er his head.

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ;
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
I have lov’d thee, dearly lov’d thee.

I have lov’d thee, dearly lov’d thee,
Through an age of worldly woe,
How ungrateful I have prov’d thee,
Let my mournful exile show ;
Ten long years of anxious sorrow,
Hour bv hour I counted o’er,
Invoking forward till to-morrow,
Every day I lov’d thee more.

Power nor splendor could not charm me,
I no joy in wealth could see,
Nor could threats or fears alarm me,
Save the fear of losing thee :
When the storms of fortune press’d thee,
I have wept to see thee weep ;
When relentless cares distress’d thee,
I hyvc lull’d those cares to sleep.When with thee what ills could harm me,
Thou could’st every pang assuage,
But when absent nought could charm me,
Every moment seem’d an age.
Fare thee well! ungrateful rover !
Welcome, Gallia’s hostile shore ;
Now, ye breezes, waft me over,
Now we part to meet no more!
I KNEW By THE SMOKE THAT SO gracefully
curl'd.

I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl’d
Around the green elms, that a cottage was near,
And I said, ‘ if there's peace to be found in the world,
The heart that was humble might hope for it here
’Twas noon and on flowers that languish’d around,
In silence repos’d the voluptuous bee ;
Ev’ry leaf was at rest and I heard not a sound,
But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree-
But the woodpecker tapping, &c.

And ‘ here in this lone little wood,’ I exclaim’d,
‘ With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye,
‘ Who would blush when 1 prais’d her, and weep when T blam’d,
‘ How blest could I live, and how calm could I die !
‘ By the shade of yon sumack, whose red berry dips,
‘ In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline,
‘ And to know that I sigh’d upon innocent lips,
‘ Which had never been sigh’d on by any but mine.’DULCE DOMUM,
Deep in a vale a cottage stood,
Oft sought by travellers weary
And oft it prov’d the blest abode,
Of Edward and of Mary ;
For her he’d chase the mountain goat.
O’er Alps and glaciers bounding;
For her the chamois he would shoot,
Dark horrors all surrounding;
But ev’ning came he sought his home,
While anxious lovely woman,
She hail’d the sight, and every night.
The cottage rung us they sung,
The cottage rung as they sung,
Oh ! dulce dulce domum. .
Oh! dulce dulce domum.

But soon, alas ! this scene of bliss,
Was chang'd to prospects dreary,
For war and honor rous’d each Swiss,
And Edward left his Mary;
To bold St. Gothard’s height lie rush’d,
'Gainst Gallia’s force contending,
And by unequal numbers crush’d,
He died, his land delending;
The evening come, he sought not home,
While she, distracted woman,
Grown wild with dread, she seeks him dead.
And hear* the knell that bids farewell,
To dulce dulce domum.
To dulce dulce domum.LULLABY.

Peaceful slumb’ring on the ocean,
Seamen fear no dangers nigh;
Winds and waves in gentle motion,
Soothe them with their lullaby.
Soothe them with, &c.

Is the wind tempestuous blowing ?
Still no danger they descry;
The guileless neart its boon bestowing.
Soothes them with its lullaby.
Soothes them with, &c.

Now the threat’ning storm is over,
Clouds no more enshroud the sky ;
Blissful thoughts of absent lovers,
Soothe them with their lullaby.
Soothe them with, &c.

Safe arriv’d at anchor riding,
Hands ashore all eager fly ;
Happy sweethearts gently chiding,
Soothe them with their lullaby.
Soothe them with, &c
THE GLASSES SPARKLE ON THE BOARD.

The glasses sparkle on the board,
The wine is ruby bright,
The reign of pleasure is restor’d,
Of ease and gay delight.the day is gone, the night’s our own,
Then let us feast the soul;
If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl.
If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl.

This world they say’s a world of woe,
But that I do deny ;
Can sorrow from the goblet flow,
Or pain from beauty’s eye ?
The wise are fools, with all their rules,
When they would joy control;
If life’s a pain, I say again,
Let’s drown it in the bowl.
If life’s a pain, &c.

That time flies fast, the poet sings,
Then surely it is wise,
In rosy wine to dip his wings, ,
And seize him as he flies 
This night is ours, then strew with flow’rs
The moments as they roll;
If any pain, or care remain,
Why drown it in a bowl.
If any pain, or care remain,
Why drown it in a bowl.
WHEN GEN'ROUS WINE.

When gen’rous wine expands the soul,
And pleasure hovers round the bowl,
Avaunt, avaunt, ye cares of fancy’s crew,
And give the guilty wretch his due :
Avaunt ye cares, &c,
FBut let the juice of sparkling wine,
My grosser sense to love refine;
As Jove his nectar drinks above.
I’ll quaff whole goblets full of love.
As Jove his nectar, &c.

Then why should I at life repine,
Bring me Venus, bring me wine ;
Fill the ever flowing bowl,
In circles gay and pleasures roll.
Fill the ever flowing, &c.

Ever open, ever free,
Hail thou friend of jollity;
My brows with Bacchus’ chaplets crown’d,
I live to love, my cares are drown’d.
My brows with Bacchus, &c.
JOHN HOBBS.

A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs, John Hobbs,
A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs,
He married Jane Carter,
No damsel look’d smarter,
But lie caught a tartar, John Hobbs, John Hobbs,
Yes, he caught a tartar, poor Hobbs.

He tied a rope to her, John Hobbs, John Hobbs,
He tied a rope to her, John Hobbs 
To ’scape from hot water,
To Smithfield he brought her,
But nobody bought her, Jane Hobbs, Jane Hobbs ;
They all were afraid of Jane HobbsO ! who’ll buy a wife ? says Hobbs, John Hobbs,
A sweet pretty wife, says Hobbs ;
But somehow they tell us,
The wife-dealing fellows,
Were all of them sellers, John Hobbs, John Hobbs,
And none of them wanted Jane Hobbs.

The rope it was ready, John Hobbs, John Hobbs,
Come, give me the rope, says John Hobbs;
I won’t stand to wrangle;
Myself I will strangle,
And hang, dingle dangle, John Hobbs, John HobbS.
He hung, dingle dangle, John Hobbs.

But, down his wife cut him, John Hobbs, John Hobbs,
But, down his wife cut him, John Hobbs:
With a few hubble bubbles,
They settled their troubles,
Like most married couples, John Hobbs, Jane Hobbs
Oh ! happy shoemaker, John Hobbs.
SANDY AND JENNY.

A favorite Scotch song.

Come, come, bonnie lassie, cried Sandy, awa,
While mither is spinning, awl father's afar ;
The folk are at work, and the bairns are at play,
And we will be married, dear Jenny, to day.

Stay, stay, bonnie laddie, I answer’d with speed,
I canna, I mimna, go with you, indeed;
Beside, should I do so, what would the folk say ?
Oh! we cannot marry, dear Sandy, to dayList, list, bonnie lassie, and mind what you do,
Baith Peggy and Patty I give up for you ;
Besides, a full twelvemonth we’ve trifled away,
And one or the other I’ll marry to day.

Fie, fie, bonnie-laddie, replied I again,
When Peggy, you kiss’d t’other day on the plain ;
Besides, a new ribbon does Patty display,
So we cannot marry, dear Sandy, to day.

Then, then, a good bye, bonnie lassie, says he,
For Peggy, and Patty are waiting for me;
The kirk is hard by, and the bells call away,
And Peggy or Patty I’ll marry to day
.
Stop, stop, bonnie laddie, I said, with a smile,
For know I was joking, indeed, all the while ;
Let Peggy go spin, and send Patty away,
And we will be married, dear Sandy, to day.
Hallow'd the birth day of liberty’s nation,
Sacred the flame on her altar that burns ;
A tear to the Chieftain who wrought her salvation,
And flowers to the grave that his body inurns ;
He who from darkest night,
Led us to glory’s light,
Beaming before us our guidance and star ;
Itid every troubled sea,
Pilot of liberty !
Champion of peace in the ravage of war
SONG.
Tune—'Hail to the Chief'Hail to the name of Columbia’s great hero,
Which brighter shines forth thro' the vista of years
Whilst on history’s page stands the contrast of Nero
The king of oppression, and father of tears.
Then raise the sacred strain,
Let echo mock again ;
WASHINGTON rise on each patriot’s voice,
Till all Columbia round,
Swell with the joyous sound,
And hill and vale in the anthem rejoice.
LOCHINVAR.

A favorite song, written by Walter Scott, Esq.

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; 
And save his good broad sword he weapon had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar-

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone ;
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none. 
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came la‘e
For a laggard in love, and a dastard 	in 	war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar

So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,
Among bride’s-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all
Then spoke the bride’s father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
'O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?’

F 2‘I long woo’d your daughter, my suit you denied;—
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—
And now I am come with this lost love of mine,
To tread but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.’

The bride kiss’d the goblet: the knight took it up,
He quaff’d off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look’d down to blush, and she look’d up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar—
'Now tread we a measure !’ said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And tho bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whisper’d, ‘ ’Twere better by far
To have match’d our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.’

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach’d the hall door,and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her lie sprung !—
' She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They’ll have fleet steeds that follow’ quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks and Musgraves, they rode and they ran
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,
For the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?There was an ancient fair, O she lovd a nate young man,
And she could not throw sly looks at him but only through her fan,
With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx.
Her quizzing glass, her leer and sidle;
O she loved a bold dragoon, with his long sword, saddle, bridle,
Whack ! row de dow dow.

She had a rolling eye, its fellow it had none,
Would you know the reason why ? it was because she had but one;
With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx,
She could not keep her one eye idle;
O she leer’d at this dragoon, with his, &c.

Now he was tall and slim, she squab and short was grown,
He looked just like a mile in length, and she like a milestone ;
With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx.
Her quizzing glass, her leer and sidle,
O she sigh’d to this dragoon, ‘ Bless your long sword, &c.

Soon lie led unto the church the beauteous Mrs. Flinn.
Who a walnut could have crack’d ’tween her lovely nose and chin;	
O then such winks in marriage links,
The four foot bride from church did sidle,
As the wife of this dragoon, with his, &c.A twelvemonth scarce had passed when lie laid her under ground,
Soon he threw the onion from his eyes and touch’d ten thousand pounds;
For her winks and blinks, her money chinks,
He does not let her cash lie idle,
So long- life to this dragoon, with his long sword, saddle, bridle,
Whack! row de dow dow.
THE WOODMAN

Sung by Mr. Jefferson, in 'The Forty Thieves.'

To a woodman’s hut there came one day,
A physician and a dancing-master;
This fellow’s hovel must serve, said they,
For the rain pours faster and faster.
Heigh O! fal de ral de ra.

The physician was proud, and toss’d up his head,
And scarce would the woodman mark, sir;
' But, doctor, we’re equals,’ the woodman said,
' For both of us deal in bark, sir!

The master of dance was as grave as you please,
Till the woodman cried, ‘ How now, sir!
You cut but capers, and I cut trees.
And we all know the worth of a bow, sir.'

At last, says the woodman, ' the weather is good,
For the rain only falls from the caves now,
So put on your heads, ’twill be carrying wood,
And pray, both, be taking your leaves now.'HAIL LIBERTY.

Hail ! Liberty, supreme delight,
Thou Idol of the mind,
Through every clime extend thy flight-,
The world range unconfined.

CHORUS.
The virtues of the just and brave,
Exist alone with thee;
Nature ne’er meant to form a slave, 
Her birth-right’s liberty.

Tho’ all the tyrants in the world,
Conspire to crush thy fame,
Still shall thy banners be unfurled ;
Eternal be thy name.
The virtues of the just, &c.

Then let the world in one great band,
Of glorious unity,
Drive despotism from each land;
Or die for liberty.
The virtues of the just, &c.

Columbia, how blest art thou,
Free from tyrannic sway!
Assert thy rights, thy laws avow,
Drive discord far away.
The virtues of the just, &c.

And may’st thou to the end of time,
A sweet assylum be,
To patriots of every clime,
Who sigh for liberty,
The virtues of the just, &c.I’ve liv’d a life of some few years,
I’m fifty-four to-morrow;
For every smile I’ve shed three tears.
Thus mingling joy with sorrow.
Now wiser grown I scorn to cry,
Though tears are wet and I am dry,
And if a drop I’ve in my eye,
And if a drop I’ve in my eye,
Tis when I hear the glasses sing,
And jug, jug, jug, the bottles ring.
’Tis when, &c.

The friend I trusted, lack a day
Most scurvily abused me ;
The wife I married, ran away
With him who thus did use me.
My grief too big to let me cry,
Could only tell my sorrows dry,
And if a drop I’ve in my eye,
And if a drop I’ve in my eye,
’Tis when, &c.

Yet think not tho’ some folks are bad,
Ill usage makes me sulking,
At duty’s call old Jack’s the lad.
Who ne’er was found a skulking.
When love of country wets the eye,
Like every tar my best I'll try,
To drub the foe when I am dry,
To drub the toe when I am dry,
Drinks friends again, away care fling,
While jug, jug, jug, the bottles ringOx the banks of the Schuylkill so pleasant and gay,
There, bless’d with my true love, I spent the short day,
Where the sun shed his rays through the mulberry tree,
And the stream form’d a mirror for my true love and me.
On that spot of clover we sat ourselves down,
Not envying the greatest of monarchs that’s crown’d;
My name in the sand with his finger he drew,
And he swore by the stream he would ever prove true.
To which I beheld the gay pride of my fair,
I gaz’d on his face while he played with my hair
He need not have told me his love with a sigh,
For the Schuylkill secures my dear fellow to me.
Oft times has he told me fine stories of love,
He would sing me a song my affections to move,
My lips were oft solicited, my hands gently press’d”,
On the banks of the Schuylkill where Jesse was bless’d'.
Whenever we leave this enchanting retreat,
With blushes, she says, when next shall we meet?
Next Sunday, he says, if the weather proves clear,
On the banks of the Schuylkill I’ll meet you, my dear.
Now all these innocent pleasures are o’er,
The murmuring river can please me no more,
Since the banks of the Schuylkill has lost all its charms
And the soldiers have torn my dear boy from my arm;.
But should ever I clasp him again to my heart,
No more shall my true love and I ever part;
No more shall the wars take my true love away.
And the banks of the Schuylkill shall ever be gay.Seamen of Columbia

Ye seamen of Columbia,
Who guard our nation’s rights,
Whose deeds deserve eternal fame ;
In four successive fights ;
O try your matchless skill again,
Subdue your ancient foe,
As they roar, on your shore,
Where the stormy tempests plow.

The spirits of ten thousand men
Who groan beneath the yoke,
Shall join to aid your labours
When you their chains have broke,
Nor shall they e’er be pressed again,
To serve your ancient foe.
As they roar, on your shore,
Where the stormy tempests blow
Columbia needs no bulwark
Along the stormy coast,
Her gallant seamen are her walls,
The country’s pride and boast;
There’s HULL, DECATUR, PORTER, JONES,
And a long list beside,
Who will sweep o’er the deep,
And in fearless triumph ride.
The haughty flag of England,
That waved a thousand years,
Is stripped of its proud laurels,
Which on our flag appears ;
Our tars have crowned the Eagle,
And the stripes have lashed the foe
As they sweep o’er the deep,
Where the stormy tempests blow.