WHEN I WAS A CHICKEN AS HIGH AS A HEN. (Warner.) WHEN I was a chicken as high as a hen, By the priest I was bothered my lesson to ken; While in rapture he took a sweet girl by the hand, O ho! says I, you're a forestalling thief, 'Twas this stamped my fame, and my business increased, For the ladies all flocked from the south, west, and THE WORN-OUT TAR. THE ship was now in sight of land, And crowds from shore with joy did hail her; The happy hour was now at hand, When each sweet lass would see her sailor. How gallantly she ploughs her way, In his loved country's cause, as warm A mossy bank with osiers-bound, A mossy bank with osiers bound, The winding stream that runs along, The winding stream that runs along, Conveys the distant herdsman's song; Hark! hark! he swells, &c. DON'T now be after being coy, For thou art wife to me, Judy! Each vassal at our wedding-feast, The skin of wolves, by me they bled, Howl at my wake! 'twill be but kind, And if I leave, as I've designed, Some little Tooleywhaggs behind, They'll sarve to comfort thee, Judy. LOVE AND PRUDENCE. BEGONE! your heart will fickle prove, Then smile that we your vows believe. Thou couldst not bid me thus despair. Why wilt thou seek to steal my heart, And lull the caution of my soul? Why tell of Cupid's honied dart, That shaft which reason could control? And why hast thou such beauties rare? Why do I such perfection see? Why in that breast, divinely fair, Dwells every charm but love of me? Ah! could I prove thy breast sincere, And were thy vows and sighs but true, I'd banish each corroding fear, And only live for love and you. MAN AND WOMAN'S FIRST QUARREL. (Arnold.) When time first began, The first woman and man Had a terrible quarrel, I've heard, Whether women or men Had a right to maintain the last word. It was early one morn, They'd been just three days born, Of this quarrel of yore, Since this, why men yield, For though jangling all day, Oh! theirs is the rest who repose 'neath the sod That nourished the arm which preserved it in danger; And theirs is the hope to repose with their God, That ages renew in the prayer of the stranger. MORGAN RATTLER. (Hudson.) OH, the lasses o' Lunnon be sad wicked jades, All manners o' tricks, by gosh, they be up to 'em, And for cheating poor lads like o' I is their trades, And 'twould puzzle the old one to put a good stop to 'em. My Kate in the country is different quite, When I was at home, why, I was her prattler, And I loved her sincerely from morning till night, And none was so happy as Morgan Rattler. I comed up to Lunnon, and, the very first day, I'll be dashed if I wasn't afeard for to talk wi' her. She begged instantly that a coach I would call, For nothing but home directly could settle her, And then she politely pulled me in and all, Oh! in what a sad pucker was Morgan Rattler. The coach then set off, and dashed through thick and thin, The lady got better, and axed me to sup wi’ her; Thinks I, oh dear, dear, she's for snaring me in, No matter what haps, I'll try and be up wi' her. Says I, "Madam Sly, I sees what you're up to, I'se awake to your tricks, though you're a sweet tattler, But all your fine fits and your faintings wo'n't do, You've got the wrong person in Morgan Rattler.' When she found me determined, she flew in a a boar too, sirs, And said that I ought to be shut in a cage For using a lady so vile-and much more too, sirs. The coachman then civilly axed for his fare, (By this time quite clean out of sight was te tattler,) I felt in my pockets-'tis true, I declare, She'd stoled all the money of Morgan Rattler. The coachman then held the door fast in his hand, To let me get out he was not at all willing, sirs, And said he was sure that the trick it was planned, And 'twould serve me just right if I got a good milling, sirs. I jumped, in a rage, from the coach to the street, Says I to him," young man, I beant a great battler, But I think I can gi' you a threshing complete, I stript to be at 'n, and to it we gaes, And a few minutes finished his bus'ness so neatly, sirs, Meantime some domned thief ran away with my claes, And poor sirs. I was every way cheated completely, I'se had quite enow of this vile Lunnon town, I'll go home to my Kate, and I'll marry and settle her, And to feyther, and mother, and all, when I'se down, I'll tell all the misfortunes o' Morgan Rattler. WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST? (Sir Walter Scott.) WHERE shall the lover rest Whom the fates sever, From his true maiden's breast Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Eleu, loro,-There shall be his pillow. There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving; Eleu, loro,-Never, O, never. He, the deceiver, Who could win maiden's breast, In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying, Eleu, loro,-There shall he be lying. Her wing shall the eagle flap O'er the false-hearted, His warm blood the wolf shall lap Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever, Blessings shall hallow it, Eleu, loro,-Never, O never. THE TIMID HARE. WHEN morn 'twixt mountain and the sky Our course we take, The sportsman knows no grief or care; Awakes the trembling, timid hare. Re-echoes blithe both far and near; We know no bounds While coursing of the timid hare. For sportsmen know no grief or care; Awakes the trembling, timid hare. CONTENT AND A PIPE. Air-" Sheep-shearing.” CONTENTED I sit with my pint and my pipe, Puffing sorrow and care far away, And surely the brow of grief nothing can wipe Like smoking and moist'ning our clay; For, though liquor can banish man's reason afar, "Tis only a fool or a sot, Who with reason or sense would be ever at war, For, until with breath they are both filled within, Take but the breath from them both quite away, For, when to the end of life's journey he's got, For THE SAILOR'S ADIEU. WHENCE Comes this keen, this cutting smart? Why beats my sad, my sinking heart Eliza, 'tis because I part, My life! from thee. My doom, perhaps, a watʼry grave, Oh! say, then, all on earth I prize! Wilt thou? but see, the signal flies; By storms that sweep the deep abyss, Fine day What d'ye say? How's your ma? La! la! Ya-aw! Then plainly I see, "Tis much better for me, That have so many more things to do. But fortune will never provide us all pleasure, Are dancing away to the pipe and the tabor; So tease and confound me, And to do all at once I've a notion-- The pen or the bat, I frisk away,-whisk away, Surrounded, confounded, My head's like a whirligig all in commotion ! Why never, 'tis clear, If I'm loitering here, When I've so many more things to do? THE BRAES O' BALQUITHER. (Tannahill.) LET us go, lassie, go To the braes o' Balquither, Where the blae-berries grow 'Mang the bonnie Highland heather; Where the deer and the rae, Lightly bounding together, Sport the lang simmer day, I will twine thee a bow'r, By the clear siller fountain, Wi' the flow'rs of the mountain; To the bow'r o' my dearie. When the rude wintry win' Idly raves round our dwelling, And the roar of the linn On the night breeze is swelling, So merrily we'll sing, As the storm rattles o'er us, Till the dear shieling ring Wi' the light lilting chorus. Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming, To our dear native scenes Let us journey together, Where glad Innocence reigns 'Mang the braes o' Balquither. THE MERRY DANCE I DEARLY LOVE. (General Burgoyne.) THE merry dance I dearly love, For then, Collette, thy hand I seize, And press it, too, whene'er I please, And none can see, and none reprove! Then on thy cheek quick blushes glow, And then we whisper soft and low, Oh! how I grieve! you ne'er her charms can know. She's sweet fifteen, I'm one year more, Oh how I grieve! you ne'er her charms can know. THE IRISH PEDLAR. Air-"I'm a jolly gay Pedlar."-(C. F. Barrett.) OCH! I am a jolly gay pedlar, That never yet fawned on the great, In politics I am no meddler, care not who governs the state. SPOKEN.] No, the devil a morsel of me cares about who governs, or who does not govern, so long as I am able to sing Goosetrum foodle, niggety tragedy rum, Some folks fight the one with the other, "Tis only the Ins or the Outs. SPOKEN.] Arrah! what d'ye think it is they quarrel about? Och! the devil a thing more or less than Goosetrum foodle, &c. My treasury hangs here before me, Of goosetrum foodle, &c. I've ribbons of every description, And you shall have red, green, or blue. SPOKEN.] Oh, yes, I am the man for the ladies; I can accommodate them with whatever they please, particularly with a few yards of my As pensive one night in my garret I sate, my last shilling produced on the table; That adventurer, cried I, might a history relate, if to think and to speak it were able. THE LAST SHILLING. (Dibdin.) As pensive one night in my garret I sate, My last shilling produced on the table; That adventurer, cried I, might a history relate, Whether fancy or magic 'twas played me the freak, 1 was once the last coin of the law a sad limb, Who, in cheating, was ne'er known to falter; Till at length brought to justice, the law cheated him, And he paid me to buy him a halter. A Jack tar, all his rhino but me at an end, With a pleasure so hearty and willing, Though hungry himself, to a poor distressed friend Wished it hundreds-and gave his last shilling. "Twas the wife of his messmate, whose glistening eye With pleasure ran o'er as she viewed me : She changed me for bread, as her child she heard FOR GLORY AND FOR LIBERTY' (D. L. Richardson.) HAIL to the brave! and hail the land! Prepared for death or liberty! How hallowed is the patriot's grave, In battle, and for liberty! How dear his proud immortal name To lead the brave to victory! Oh! who that patriot honour warms, And strike for death or liberty! The victor's brow may proudly shine, A JOLLY FAT FRIAR LOVED LIQUOR, GOOD STORE. (Colman.) A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor, good store, |