Dat you, Sambo? yes I cum,

Don't you hear de banjo, tum, tum, tum ?
Oh, Rose, de coal black Rose!

I wish I may be burnt if I don't lub Rose.
Oh, Rose, &c.

Tay a little, Sambo, I cum soon,
As I make a fire in de back room:
Tay a little, Sambo, I cum soon,
As I make a fire in de back room:
Oh, Rose, de coal black Rose!
I wish, &c.

Make haste, Rosa, lubly dear,
I froze tiff as a poker, tandin here
Make haste, Rosa, lubly dear,
I almost froze waitin here.

Oh, Rose I almost froze :

I wish, &c.

Come in, Sambo, don't tand dare shakin,
De fire is a burnin, and de hot cake a bakin;
Come in, Sambo, and top dat shakin,

De

peas in de pot, and de hot cake a bakin;
Oh, Rose, bress dat Rose!

I wish, &c.

Sit down, Sambo, and warm your shin,
Oh, bress you, honey, for what make you grin;
Sit down, Sambo, and toast your shin,

Oh, bress you, honey, for what make you grin.
Oh, Rose, bress dat Rose!

I wish, &c.

I laugh to tink if you was only mine, lubly Rose,
I'd gib you a plenty, and dat you well knows,
Ob possum fat and hominy, and sometimes rice,
Cow heel and sugar cane, an ebery ting nice;
Oh, Rose, bress dat Rose.

I wish, &c.

What in de corner dare, dat I py?

I know dat nigga Cuffee, by de white ob de eye:
Dat not Cuffee, 'tis a tic ob wood, sure;

A tic ob wood wid stocking on! you tell me dat? Pshaw!
Oh, Rose, take care, Rose!

I wish I may be burnt if I don't hate Rose!
Oh, Rose, you blacka snake, Rose!

Let go my arm, Rose, let me at him rush,

I swella his two lips like a blacka balla brush;
Let go my arm, and let me top his win,

Let go my arm, Rose, while I kick him on de shin;
Oh, Rose, take care, Rose!

I wish, &c.

I ketch hold of Cuffee, I take him by de wool,
I ketch hold of Cuffee, he try away to pull;
But I up wid a foot an kick him on de shin, [grin.
Which put him breffles on de floor, and make de nigga
Oh, Rose, take care, Rose!

I wish, &c.

COPYRIGHT.

He jump up for sartin, he cut dirt and run-
Now Sambo follow arter, with his tum, tum, tum;
He jump up for sartin, be cut dirt and run,
Now Sambo follow arter, with his tum, tum, tum
Oh, Rose, curse dat Rose!

I wish old Hays would ketch dat Rose!
Oh, Rose, you blacka snake, Rose!

MY NORA.

Music-at Messrs. Monro and May's.

My Nora dear, Nora is dreaming,
The moon on her fair cheek is gleaming;
Whilst the fairies unseen,

Kiss her forehead serene,

As her eyes thro' their lashes are beaming.

As her eyes, &c.

My Nora, sweet Nora is weeping,

The pearls through those lashes are peeping,

Oh! the fairies, I fear, have just breath'd in her ear, That my love from her bosom is creeping,

That my love, &c.

My Nora, lov'd Nora is waking,

Her heart with its anguish is breaking,

Nora come to thy rest,

On this fond, faithful breast,

Of thy soul's grief, love, mine is partaking.

Of thy soul's, &c.

THE MAID OF ATHENS.

Music at Leoni Lee's, Albemarle Street.

MAID of Athens! ere we part,
Give, O give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest.

Ah! hear my vow before I go,
Ah! hear my vow before I go,
My dearest life, I love you!

By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Ægean wind!
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheek's blooming tinge!
By those wild eyes like the roe,-
Ah! hear my prayer before I go,
My dearest life, I love you!

Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet, when alone:
Though I fly to Istambol,

Athens holds my heart and soul.
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Hear my vow before I go,

My dearest life, I love you!

THE BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE

BORDER.

Music-at Z. T. Purday's, Holborn.

MARCH! march! Ettrick and Tiviotdale,

Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order! March! march! Eskdale and Liddesdale,

All the blue bonnets are over the border.
Many a banner, spread,

Flutters above your head,

Many a crest that is famous in story!
Mount and make ready, then,

Sons of the mountain glen,

Fight for your king, and the old Scottish glory.

March! march! &c.

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding,

War steeds are bounding,

Stand to your arms and march in good order;
England shall many a day

Tell of the bloody fray,

When the blue bonnets came over the border.

March! march! &c.

THE SPELL IS BROKEN-WE MUST PART.
Music-at Messrs. Monro and May's.

My heart is like the faded flow'r,
Whose beauty lost, and sweetness flown;
Forgot, neglected; in the bow'r,

Is left by all to die alone.

And thus am I-all hope is o'er,
That hope so cherish'd in my heart,
I dare not wish to see him more,
The spell is broken,-we must part.
The spell, &c.

I thought he loved-I was deceived-
Oh, would that we had never met!
For, though he is no more believed,
My heart refuses to forget.

And yet, alas! I must not tell
The grief that rends my aching heart.
Adieu! for ever fare thee well,

The spell is broken,-we must part.
The spell, &c.

DEAREST! SOON SHALL I BEHOLD THEE
Written and composed by G. J. O. Allman.
Music-at Lewis & Co.

DEAREST! Soon shall I behold thee,
Soon shall hear thy voice!

To my breast I soon shall fold thee,
Thou my heart's first choice.
What were life, with all its gladness,
If unshared by thee,

But a pilgrimage of sadness,

Full of misery, full of misery?
Dearest soon shall I behold thee,
Soon shall hear thy voice!

In these arms I soon shall fold thee,

Thou my heart's first choice.

Dearest! do thy gentle thoughts ever on me dwell? Hast thou, like me felt that bliss words but vainly tell? Hast thou, like me, watch'd yon stars

That together shine ?

And as thine have bless'd the fate

That link'd thy lot to mine,

Yes, thy lot to mine.

Dearest! soon shall I behold thee! &c., &c.

FUDDLE THY NOSE.

Music-at Z. T. Purday's, 45, Holborn.

MERRILY, merrily push round the glass,
And merrily troll the glee;

For he who won't drink till he wink is an ass,-
So, neighbour, I drink to thee.