The Jovial songster: containing a variety of patriotic and humorous songs.

The Jovial songster: containing a variety of patriotic and humorous songs.

Table of contents

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Title page

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THE JOVIAL SONGSTER.

HARK! THE JOY-INSPIRING HORN.

THE EARLY HORN.

COME, ROUSE FROM YOUR TRANCES

MY DOG AND MY GUN.

THE BRISK HORN.

THE ROSY MORNING.

THE DUSKY NIGHT.

CONTENT.

FAIR SUSAN.

OF WOMAN TO TELL YOU MY MIND.

LET HEROES DELIGHT.

PRETTY PEGGY.

LOVELY MOLLY.

CHLOE.

HANG ME IF I MARRY.

PLACINDA's BEAUTY.

FAIR KITTY.

FROM COLLEGE I CAME.

DEARLY DO I LOVE THEE.

FYE FOR SHAME.

CELINDA.

MY LABOR WAS VAIN.

WOMEN ARE NEVER WRONG.

THE SAILOR's ADIEU.

THE BLIND EAT MANY A FLY.

CELIA.

WHEN LADIES ARE WILLING.

THE CHARMER.

I'M IN LOVE WITH TWENTY.

BUY MY MATCHES.

THE LAMPLIGHTER.

SOLDIER DICK.

THE RUSH LIGHT.

PRETTY POLL.

BONNY BET OF ABERDEEN,

THE DRUMMER.

HAIL COLUMBIA!

MOGGY

THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL.

I'M IN HASTE.

MADELON—A DUET.

LERA LA.

CORPORAL CASEY.

WAR HAS STILL IT'S MELODY.

HEAVING THE LEAD.

JACK IN HIS ELEMENT.

WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE!

THE HIGH METTLED RACER.

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THO' I'M A VERY LITTLE LAD.

WHEN I'VE MONEY I AM MERRY.

THE DESPONDING NEGRO.

THE SAILOR'S CONSOLATION.

LA CARMAGNOLE.

TRIUMPH OF LIBERTY.

MARSEILLES HYMN. [Written as nearly in imitation of the original as possible.]

TRUMPET OF LIBERTY.

GOD SAVE THE RIGHTS OF MAN!

THE PRIMROSE GIRL.

LILLIES OF THE VALLEY.

FREEDOM OR THE GRAVE.

STAND TO YOUR GUNS.

FOUR-AND-TWENTY FIDLERS. [A COMIC MEDLEY]

ACROSS THE DOWNS. Sung in the Opera of No SONG NO SUPPER.

BONNY CHARLEY.

LET THE BILLOWS ROAR.

CHASE OF THE HARE.

WHEN I WAS A CHIT.

BLUNDER O'WHACK.

BONNY JIM OF ABERDEEN.

OUR COUNTRY IS OUR SHIP.

WOMAN. Sung in the Bagatelle of the "Lock and Key."

EDWARD AND KITTY.

O PITY A MAIDEN.

PADDY O'BRIAN. Sung in the Opera of "Widow and No Widow."

MIND, HUSSEY, WHAT YOU DO

THE DRUNKEN COBLER.

TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS.

CONTENTS.

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THE Jovial Songster: CONTAINING A VARIETY OF PATRIOTIC AND HUMOROUS SONGS. THE FOURTH EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS, [Copy Right Secured.]

Music, purest, noblest pleasure,

That the gods on earth bestow:

Adding wealth to every treasure,

Taking pain from every woe.

—NEW-YORK— PRINTED AND SOLD BY JOHN HARRISSON, no. 3 Peck-Slip. 1798.

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[Page]

STATIONARY Of all kinds, For sale at JOHN HARRISSON'S Book Store, no. 3 Peck Slip. Also a large and general assortment of BOOKS, consisting of NOVELS and ROMANCES, History, Divinity, and Morality. A large collection of the newest SONG BOOKS, ALSO BLANK BOOKS of every description

THE JOVIAL SONGSTER.

[Page]

HARK! THE JOY-INSPIRING HORN.

HARK! hark! the joy-inspiring horn,

Salutes the rosy, rising morn,

And echoes thro the dale;

With clam'rous peals the hill, resound,

The hounds quck-scented scour the ground,

And snuff the fragrant gale.

Nor gates nor hedges can impede

The brisk, high-metled, starting steed,

The jovial pack pursue;

Like lightning darting o'er the plains,

The distant hills with speed he gains,

And fees the game in view.

Her path the timid hare forsakes,

And to the copse for shelter makes,

Thre pants awhile for breath;

[Page] When now the noise alarms her ear,

Her haunts descry, her fate is near,

She sees approaching death.

Directed by the well-known breeze,

The hounds their trembling victim seize,

She faints, she falls, she dies;

The distant coursers now come in,

And join the loud triumphant din,

'Till echo rends the skies.

THE EARLY HORN.

THE early horn salutes the morn

That gilds this charming place,

With chearful cries bids echo rise,

And join the jovial chase.

The vocal hills around,

The waving woods,

The crystal floods,

All return the enliv'ning sound.

COME, ROUSE FROM YOUR TRANCES

COME, rouse from your trances!

The sly morn advances,

To catch fluggish mortals in bed;

Let the horn's jocund note,

In the wind sweetly float,

While the fox from the brake lifts his head:

Now creeping.

Now peeping,

The fox from the brake lifts his head:

[Page] Each away to his f [...]d,

Your goodness shall lead,

Come follow, my worshipers, follow,

For the chace all prepare,

See the hounds snuff the air,

Hark, hark, to the huntsman's hallo!

See Reynard breaks over,

Hark Jowler, hark Rover,

The hunters fly over the ground;

Now they skim o'er the plain,

Now they dart down the lane,

And the hills, woods, and vallies resound,

With dashing,

And splashing,

The hills, woods, and vallies resound;

Then away with full speed,

Your goddess shall lead,

Come follow, my worshippers, follow;

O'er hedge, ditch, and gate,

If you stop you're too late,

Hark, hark, to the huntsman's sweet hallo!

MY DOG AND MY GUN.

LET the gay ones and great

Make the most of their fate,

From pleasure to pleasure they run;

Well, who cares a jot?

I envy them not,

While I have my do [...] and my gun.

[Page]

For exercise, air,

To the fields I repair,

With spirits unclouded and light,

The blisses I find

No stings leave behind,

But health and diversion unite.

THE BRISK HORN.

SOUND sound the brisk horn,

'Twill enliven the morn,

And nature replenish with glee,

The vallies around,

Shall rejoice at the sound,

And join in the chorus with me.

Let ladies each night

In cards take delight,

And such dull amusements embrace,

At noon then arise,

Unknown to the joys

Of the health-giving, health-giving chace.

But while they're content,

Why let them frequent

The play-house, the park, or the ball;

The pleasures I chuse,

My time to amuse

Are greatly superior to all.

THE ROSY MORNING.

THE sweet rosy morning

Peeps over the hills,

With blushes adorning

The meadows and fields;

[Page] The merry merry merry horn

Calls come come come away,

Awake from your slumber,

And hail the new day.

The stag rous'd before us

Away seem'd to fly,

And pants to the chorus

Of hounds in full cry;

Then follow follow follow

The music chace,

Where pleasure and vigour,

With health you embrace.

The day's sports are over,

Makes blood circle right,

And gives the brisk lover

Fresh charms for the night.

Then let us, let us now enjoy

All we can while we may,

Let love crown the night.

As our sports crown the day.

THE DUSKY NIGHT.

THE dusky night rides down the sky,

And ushers in the morn,

The hounds all make a jovial cry,

The huntsman winds his horn.

Then a hunting let us go.

Then, &c.

The wife around her husband throws,

Her arms to make him stay,

My dear, it hails, it rains, it blows,

You cannot hunt to-day.

But a hunting, &c.

[Page]

Th' uncavern'd fox like lightning flies,

His cunning's all awake,

To gain the race he eager tries,

His forfeit life the stake.

When a hunting, &c.

Arous'd e'en Echo huntress turns,

And madly shouts her joy,

The sportsman's breast in rapture burns,

The chace can never cloy.

Then a hunting, &c.

Despairing mark he seeks the tide,

His art must now prevail,

Hark! shouts the miscreants death betide,

His speed, his cunning fail.

When a hunting, &c.

For lo! his strength to faintness worn,

The hounds arrest his slight,

Then hungry homewards we return,

To feast away the night.

Then a drinking, &c.

CONTENT.

NO woman her envy can smother,

Tho never so vain of her charms;

If beauty she spies in another,

The pride of her heart it alarms.

New conquests she still may be making,

Or fancies her power grows less;

Her poor little heart is still aching

At sight of another's success.

But nature design'd, in love to mankind,

That different beauties should move,

[Page] Still pleas'd to ordain, none ever should reign

Sole monarch in empire of love.

Then lea [...] to be wise, new triumphs despise,

And leave to your neighbors their due;

If one cannot please, you'll find by degrees,

You'll not be contented with two;

No, no, you'll not be contented with two.

FAIR SUSAN.

ASK if you damask rose is sweet,

That scents the ambient air;

Then ask each shepherd that you meet,

If dear Susanna's fair.

Say, will the vulture quit his prey,

And warble through the grove?

Bid wanton linnets quit the spray,

Then doubt thy shepherd's love.

The spoils of war let heroes share,

Let pride in splendor shine;

Ye bards unenvy'd laurels wear,

Be fair Susanna mine.

OF WOMAN TO TELL YOU MY MIND.

OF woman to tell you my mind,

And I speak from th' experience I've had,

Not two out of fifty you'll find,

Be they daughters or wives,

But are plagues of our lives,

And enough to make any man mad.

The wrong and the right,

Being set in their fight,

[Page] They're sure to take hold of the wrong;

They'll cajole and they'll wimper,

They'll whine and they'll snivel,

They'll coax and they'll simper—

In short, they're the devil;

And so there's an end of my song.

LET HEROES DELIGHT.

LET heroes delight in the toils of the war,

In maims, blood, and bruises, and blows,

Not a sword, but a sword not rejoices the fair!

And what are rough soldiers to beaux?

Away then with laurels! come beauty and lov

And silence the trumpet and drum;

Let me with soft mytle my brows bare involve.

And tenderly combat at home.

PRETTY PEGGY.

BELIEVE my sighs, my tears, my dear,

Believe the heart you've won:

Believe the vows to you sincere,

Or Peggy I'm undone.

You say I'm false and apt to change

At every face that's new:

Of all the girls I ever I saw,

I ne'er lov'd one but you.

My heart was like a flake of ice,

Till warm'd by your bright eyes,

And then it kindled in a trice,

A flame that never dies.

[Page] Then take and try me, you shall find

That I've a heart that's true:

Of all the girls I ever saw,

I ne'er lov'd one but you.

LOVELY MOLLY.

CAN love be controul'd by advice?

Can madness and reason agree?

O Molly! who'd ever be wise,

If madness is loving of thee?

Let sages pretend to despise

The joys they want spirits to taste;

Let me seize on old time as he flies,

And the blessings of life while they last.

Dull wisdom but adds to our cares;

Brisk love will improve ev'ry joy;

Too soon we may meet with gr [...]y hairs,

Too late may repeat being coy:

Then, Molly, for what should we stay

Till our best blood begins to run cold?

Our youth we can have but to-day,

We may always find time to grow old.

CHLOE.

DEAR Chloe, come give me sweet kisses,

For sweeter no girl ever gave;

But why, in the midst of my blisses,

Dost ask me how many I'd have?

I'm not to be stinted in pleasure;

Then, prythe, dear Chloe be kind;

For since I love thee out of measure,

To numbers I'll ne'er be consin'd.

[Page]

Count the bees that on Hybla are playing;

Count the flow'rs that enamel the fields;

Count the flocks that in Tempe are straying,

And the grain that in rich Sicily yields;

Count how many stars are in Heav'n;

Go number the sands on the shore;

And when so many kisses you've giv'n,

I still shall be asking for more.

To a heart full of love let me hold thee,

A heart which, dear Chloe, is thine;

In my arms let me ever infold thee,

And circle thee round like a vine.

What joy can be greater than this is?

My lise on your lips shall be spent:

The wretch that can number his kisses,

Will always with few be content.

HANG ME IF I MARRY.

DECLARE, my pretty maid,

DECLARE, my pretty maid,

Must my fond suit miscarry?

With you I'll toy, I'll kiss and play.

But hang if I marry.

With you, &c.

Then speak your mind at once,

Nor let me longer tarry;

With you I'll toy, I'll kiss and play;

But hang me if I marry:

With you &c.

Tho' charm [...] and wit assail,

The [...]troke I well can parry:

I love to kiss, to toy and play,

But do not chuse to marry:

I love, &c.

[Page]

Young Molly of the dale

Makes a mere slave of Harry;

Because, when they had toy'd and kiss'd;

The foolish swain would marry.

Because, &c.

These fix'd resolves, my dear,

I to the grave will carry;

With you I'll toy, and kiss and play;

But hang me if I marry.

With you I'll toy, &c.

PLACINDA's BEAUTY.

WHEN Placinda's beauties appear,

How enchanting then is her air!

Such a sine shape and size,

Such lips teeth and eyes!

So many darts who can bear!

Then her temper so good and so sweet,

Such her carriage and elegant wit;

Whate'er she does or says,

We all in transport gaze.

Like young squires in the opera pit.

But to cut off all hopes of retreat,

There's Eliza to captivate;

The mighty Hercules

With two such foes as these

Must have look'd for a total defe [...].

[Page]

FAIR KITTY.

FAIR Kitty, beautiful and young,

And wild as colt untam'd,

Bespoke the fair from whence she sprung,

With little rage inflam'd;

Infirm'd with rage and sad restrain;

Which wise mama ordain'd,

And sorely vex'd to play the saint,

While wit and beauty reign'd,

While wit and beauty reign'd

And sorely vex'd to play the saint,

While wit and beauty reign'd.

Must lady Jenny frisk about,

And visst with her cousins?

At balls she must make all the rout,

And bring home hearts by dozens.

What has she better, pray, than I,

What hidden charms to boast,

That all mankind for her should die,

While I am scarce a toast?

While I am scarce a toast?

That all mankind for her should die,

While I am scarce a toast.

Dear, dear mama for once let me,

Unchain'd my fortune try;

I'll have my earl as well as she,

Or know the reason why.

Fond love prevail'd, mama gave way;

Kitty has heart's desire,

Obtain'd the charriot for a day,

And set the world on fire,

Obtain'd the charriot for a day,

And set the world on fire.

[Page]

FROM COLLEGE I CAME.

FROM college I came.

Full of spirits and flame,

Determin'd I ne'er would despair;

I'll search the town through,

For the lass I've in view,

She must have a delicate air.

I'll search the town through,

For the lass I've in view,

She must have a delicate air.

There's you, miss, and you,

Ay, and you, madam, too,

Who look so confoundedly sly;

You think I'll declare,

Now the name of the fair,

If I can, I wish I may die.

I've search'd the town round,

She is not to be found,

I find myself quite in despair,

There's this thin [...]g and that,

Sets my heart pit a pat,

Whenever I speak to the fair.

Resolv'd then I am,

And blame me if I can,

If one of your hearts to ensnare,

In wedlock's soft chains,

I'll forget all my pains,

Live constant and bless'd with my fair.

DEARLY DO I LOVE THEE.

AH! dear Margella! maid divine,

No more will I at fate repine,

[Page] If I this day behold thee mine,

For dearly do I love thee.

Thy ease shall be my sweet employ,

My constant care, my ev'ry joy;

May then no chance my hope destroy,

For dearly do I love thee.

Sweet is the woodbine to the bee:

The rising sun to ev'ry tree,

But sweeter far art thou to me,

For dearly do I love thee.

And let me but behold thee mine,

No more will I at fate repine,

But while I live, thou maid divine,

With rapture do I love thee.

FYE FOR SHAME.

AS thro the grove I chanc'd to stray,

I met young Philis on her way;

I flew like lightning to her arms,

And gaz'd in rapture on her charms;

Her looks reveal'd a modest flame,

Yet still she cry'd—O fye for shame,

With eager haste I stole a kiss,

Which blushing Philis took amiss;

She push'd me from her with a frown,

And call'd me bold presuming clown;

While I confess'd myself to blame,

But still she cry'd—O fye shame.

In tender sighs I told my love,

And pledg'd my faith on things above;

But she, like all her sex, was coy,

And tho' I swore, would not comply;

[Page] Yet I perceiv'd she met my flame,

But still she cry'd—O fye for shame,

When this I saw, I quickly cry'd,

Will lovely Philis be my bride?

For hark! I hear the tinkling bell;

To church let's go—it pleas'd her well;

And soon a kind compliance came,

But still she cry'd—O fye for shame.

Now Hymen's bands have made us one,

The joys we taste to few are known;

No jealous fears our bosoms move;

For constant each, we truly love;

She now declares I'm not to blame,

No longer cries—O fye for shame.

CELINDA.

BY a cool fountain's flow'ry side

The bright Celinda lay;

Her looks increas'd the Summer's pride;

Her eyes the bloom of day.

The roses blush'd with deeper red,

To see their charms outdone;

The lillies sunk beneath their bed,

To see such rivals shown.

Quick through the air, to his retreat,

A bee industrious flew;

Prepar'd to rifle ev'ry sweet,

And sip the balmy dew.

Drawn by the fragrance of her breath,

Her rosy lips he found;

Where he in transports met his death,

And drop'd upon the ground.

[Page]

Enjoy, blest bee, enjoy thy fate,

Nor at thy fall repine;

Each god wou'd quit his blissful state,

To share a joy like thine.

MY LABOR WAS VAIN.

IN pursuit of some lambs from my flocks that had stray'd,

One morning I rang'd o'er the plain;

But alas! after all my researches were made,

I perceiv'd that my labor was vain.

At length growing hopeless my lambs to restore,

I resolv'd to return back again,

It was useless I thought to look after them more,

Since I found that my labor was vain.

On this my return, pretty Phoebe I saw,

And to love her I could not refrain;

To solicit a kiss I approach'd her with awe,

But she told me my labor was vain.

But, Phoebe, I cry'd, to my suit lend an ear,

And let me no longer complain;

She reply'd with a frown, and an aspect severe,

Young Collin, your labor's in vain.

Then I eagerly clasp'd her quite close to my breast

And kiss'd her, and kiss'd her again;

O Collin! she cry'd, if you're rude, I protest

That your labor shall still be in vain.

At length by entreaties, by kisses and vows,

Compassion she took on my pain;

She now has consented to make me her spouse,

So no longer I labor in vain.

[Page]

WOMEN ARE NEVER WRONG.

THO' women, 'tis true, are but tender,

Yet nature does her strength supply;

Their will is too strong to surrender;

They're obstinate still till they die.

In vain you attack them with reason,

Your sorrows you only prolong;

Disputing is always high treason;

No woman was e'er in the wrong.

Relief must be in resignation,

For if you appear once content.

Perhaps the dear fair in compassion,

May then condescend to relent.

THE SAILOR's ADIEU.

THE topsails shiver in the wind,

Our ship she casts to sea,

But yet my soul, my heart, my mind,

Are, Mary, moor'd with thee;

For tho' thy sailors bound afar,

Still love shall be my leading star.

Should landsmen latter when we're sail'd,

O doubt their artful tales,

No gallant sailor ever sail'd,

If love breath'd constant gales;

Thou art the compass of my soul,

Which steers my heart from pole to pole.

These are our cares; but if you're kind

We'll scorn the dashing main,

[Page] The rocks, the billows, and the wind,

Till we return again.

COLUMBIA's glory rests with you.

Our sails are full, sweet girls adieu.

THE BLIND EAT MANY A FLY.

FROM sweet bewitching tricks of love,

Young men your hearts secure,

Lest from the paths of sense you rove,

In dotage premature,

In dotage premature.

Look at each lass thro' wisdom glass,

Nor trust the naked eye,

Gallants beware, look sharp, take care,

The blind eat many a fly,

The blind eat many a fly.

Not only on their hands and necks

The borrow'd white you'll find;

Some belles, whom interest direct,

Can even paint the mind, &c.

Joy in distress they can express,

Their very tears can lie:

Gallants beware, &c.

There's not a spinster in the realm

But all mankind can cheat,

Down to the cottage from the helm,

The learn'd, the brave, the great, &c.

With lovely looks, and golden hooks,

T'entangle us they try:

Gallants beware, &c.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,

Was earth of parchment made,

[Page] Was ev'ry single stick a quill;

Each man a scribe by trade, &c.

To write the tricks of half the sex

Would drain that ocean siry:

Gallants beware, &c.

CELIA.

WHEN first I sought fair Celia's love,

And every charm was new,

I swore by all the gods above

To be forever true.

But long in vain did I adore,

Long wept and figh'd in vain;

She still protested, vow'd and swore

She ne'er would ease my pain.

At last o'ercame, she made me blest,

And yielded all her charms;

And I forsook her when possess'd,

And fled to others arms.

But let not this, dear Celia, now

Thy breast to rage incline:

For why, since you forgot your vow,

Should I remember mine?

WHEN LADIES ARE WILLING.

DEAR madam, when ladies are willing,

A man must needs look like a fool;

For me I would not give one shilling

For one that can love out of rule:

At least you should wait for our offers

Nor snatch like old maids in despair;

[Page] If you've liv'd till these years without proffers,

Your sighs are now lost in the air.

You should leave us to guess at your blushing,

And not speak the matter too plain,

Tis ours to be forward and pushing,

And your's to effect a disdain.

That you're in a terrible taking,

By all your fond ogling I see;

But the fruit that will fall without shaking,

Indeed, is too mellow for me.

THE CHARMER.

YOU may say what you will, but Belinda's too tall,

And Stella's all bone, and her shape is too small;

Dear Chloe's my wish, tho' extensive her charms,

Tho' the front of her slays is too wide for my arms

Tis certain Miss Fanny's a sweet little dear,

And zephyrs bring odors when Lucy is near;

But Chloe's all sweetness by nature design'd,

We might call her a hogshead of double-refin'd.

When she dances then leaps my fond heart like a frog;

When with rapture I press her, I'm lost in a fog;

I beg for a kiss, while my vows I renew,

And imbibe half a pint of ambrosial dew.

She frequently mention's young Strephon, the beau,

But why should I reckon my rival a foe?

E'en let him proceed it will ne'er give me pain;

We both shall find more than our arms will contain.

[Page]

I've oft overheard the ill-natur'd expression;

That beauty so bulky must pall in possession;

In his notion the critic is surely misled,

Love's flame by her fat will be constantly fed.

Some nymphs have angelical sweetness and grace,

But Chloe has rather a cherubim's face;

She's always good humor'd, facetious and free,

And only gives pain when she fits on my knee.

I start not, as timirous fribbles have done,

At the substance of three or four females in one;

First ballance her weight with the mint's costly coin,

Then let the dear ponderous charmer be mine.

I'M IN LOVE WITH TWENTY.

I'M in love with twenty,

I'm in love with twenty,

And could adore,

As many more,

For nothing's like a plenty.

Variety is charming,

Variety is charming,

For constancy

Is not for me,

So ladies you have warning.

He that has but one love,

Looks as poor

As any boor,

Or like a man with one glove.

Variety, &c.

[Page]

Not the fine regallia

Of eastern kings,

The poet sings,

But oh! the fine seraglio.

Variety, &c.

Girls grow old and ugly,

And can't inspire

The same desire,

As when they're young and smugly.

Variety, &c.

Why has Cupid pinions,

If not to fly

Through all the sky,

And see his favorite minions.

Variety, &c.

Love was born of beauty,

And when she goes,

The urchin knows,

To follow is his duty.

Variety, &c.

BUY MY MATCHES.

BUY my matches, ye maids, I have matches for all,

I've a match for the little, the lusty and tall,

All my matches are pointed, my brimstone is good,

And I know very well how to splinter my wood

Buy my matches.

There's the parson who matches the young and the old,

Gives you brimstone enough when you're match'd to a scold,

[Page] If your matches are made, as I fear they be,

You've met with your match before you met me.

Buy my matches.

There's the doctor so nice, and the lawyer so wise,

Are a match for you all, for none match them in lies;

Beware of them both be they ever so civil,

For a lawyer is only a match for the devil.

Buy my matches.

And now ye young men and ye pretty maids too

When your matches you make beware you don't rae;

Let your matches be pointed with honor and truth,

And in age they'll retain what was kindled in youth

Buy my matches.

And now to sum up all the matches I've nam'd,

May this land be for commerce and liberty fam'd,

May her foes round the globe on her thunder be hurl'd,

And America e'er prove a match for the world.

Buy my matches.

THE LAMPLIGHTER.

I'M jolly Dick the Lamplighter,

They say the Sun's my dad,

And truly I believe it so,

For I'm a pretty lad;

Father and I the world do light,

And make it look so gay,

The difference is, I light by night,

My father lights by day.

[Page]

But father's not the like of I,

For knowing life and fun,

For I strange tricks and fancy spy,

Folks never shew the sun;

Rogues, owls and bats, cant bear the light,

I've heard your wise ones say,

And so, d'ye mind, I sees by night,

Things never seen by day.

At night men lay aside all art,

As quite a useless task,

And many a face, and many a heart,

Will then pull off the mask:

Each formal prude, and holy wigut,

Will throw disguise away,

And sin it openly at night

Who saint it all the day.

His darling hoard the miser views,

Misses from friends decamp,

And many a statesman mischief brews

To his country, o'er his lamp;

So father and I, d'ye take me right,

Are just on the same lay,

I barefac'd sinner's light by night,

And he false saints by day.

SOLDIER DICK.

WHY dont you know me by my scars?

I'm soldier Dick come from the wars,

Where many a pate without a hat,

Croud honor's bed, but what of that.

CHORUS.

Beat drums, play fifes, 'tis glory calls,

What argusies who stands or falls,

[Page] Lord what should one be sorry for,

Life's but the fortune of the [...]ar,

Then rich or poor, or well o [...] [...]ick,

Still laugh and sing shall soldier Dick,

I us'd to look two ways at one,

A bullet hit me on the sconce,

And dows'd my eye, d'ye think I' [...] wince,

Why, Lord, I've never squinted since.

Some distant keep from war's alarms,

For fear of wooden legs and arms,

While others die safe in their beds,

Who all their lives wore wooden heads.

Thus gout or fever, sword or shot,

Or something sends us all to pot,

That were to die then do not grieve,

But lets be merry while we live.

THE RUSH LIGHT.

SIR Solomon Simons when he did wed

Blush'd black as a crow, his fair lady did blush light,

The clock struck twelve, they were both tuck'd in bed,

In the chimney a rush light.

A little farthing rush light,

Fal lal lal lal la,

A little farthing rush light.

Sir Solomon gave his lady a nudge,

Cries he, lady Simons there's vastly too much light,

[Page] Then Sir Solomon, says she, to get up you cant grudge,

And blow out the rush light.

A little farthing, &c.

Sir Solomon then out of bed he pops his toes,

And vastly he swore, and very much did curse light,

And then to the chimney Sir Solomon he goes,

And he puff'd at the rush light.

The little farthing, &c.

Lady Simons got up in her night cap so neat,

And over the carpet my lady did brush light,

And there Sir Solomon she found in a heat,

Puff'd at the rush light.

Then she puff'd at the rush light,

But neither of them both

Could blow out the rush light.

Sir Solomon and lady their breath quite gone,

Rang the bell in a rage, determin'd to crush light;

Half asleep in his shirt then up came John,

And he puff'd at the rush light.

The little farthing rush light,

But neither of the three

Could blow out the rush light,

Cook, coachman, and maid, very near all in baff,

Came and swore in their lives they never met with such light,

And each of the family by turns had a puff

At the little farthing rush light,

The curst farthing rush light,

But none of the family

Could blow out the rush light,

[Page]

The watchman at last went by, crying one,

Here watchman, come up, then you we might on worse light;

Then up came the watchman, the business was done,

For he turn'd down the rush light,

The dam'd farthing rush light,

Past one o'clock!

So he put out the rush light.

PRETTY POLL.

COME, pretty Poll [...] from tears refrain,

And, dearest maid, believe

It wrings my heart with cruel pain,

To see my charmer grieve;

Then dry those eyes, and e'er I go,

Each anxious fear dispel

And bold I'll meet my country's foe

For you, my lovely girl.

For bold I'll meet, &c.

A sailor scorns the name of slave,

And when he's call'd to war,

Will teach the foe what 'tis to brave

A dauntless worthy tar;

Then bid, my life, those sighs adieu,

Those lucid tears farewell,

I fly to conquer, love, for you,

For you, my lovely girl.

The signal's sir'd, I'm call'd away,

'Tis will'd that we must part;

But tho' forbid with thee to stay,

I bear thee in my heart;

[Page] Then let not Polly be concern'd,

For Hymen soon shall tell,

The sailor's safe from war return'd,

For you, my lovely girl.

BONNY BET OF ABERDEEN,

JUST at the close of summers day,

How sweet the blooming blossoms seem,

So sweet the time I pass away,

Wi bonny Bet of Aberdeen.

CHORUS.

Whene'er I sit beneath the shade,

Or wander o'er the lee,

To meet the charming village maid,

That kindly smiles on me.

She's fresh and fair as the violet rose,

The blithest lass that sports the green.

I'll follow her wher'er she goes,

O bonny Bet of Aberdeen.

She vows she loves but me alone,

And I believe her sparkling een,

I long for to unite in one,

Wi bonny Bet of Abrdeen.

Our Wedding day we'll crown wi joy.

While the nymphs and swains dance on the green,

And I shall be a happy boy,

When blest wi Bet of Aberdeen.

THE DRUMMER.

DAPPER-tit-tat-too is my natty name,

For roll or a trevally,

[Page] Among the girls loud sounds my fame,

When I their quarters rally,

For with sife and drum,

I smirking come,

Leer, cock my hat

Swear and all that,

Nor ever dread,

A broken head,

Where the cause of strife's a doxy,

But as for wars,

And wounds and scars,

And sighting foes,

And thumps and blows,

I'd rather fight by proxy.

When chiefs and privates mingled lie,

And gasp without assistance,

In baggage waggons perch'd on high,

Stand umpire at a distance,

And with fife and drum,

A smirking come,

Mong'st soldiers wives,

Who led merry lives,

Now ever dread,

A broken head,

Where the cause of strife's a doxy,

Let their husbands go,

And 'gainst the foe,

Gain glory's scars,

In honour's cause,

I'd rather fight by proxy.

Yet think I am not renown'd

In foreign wars and civil,

Why, Sir, when safe and sound,

Rounds I could fight the devil,

[Page] And with fife and drum;

Can smirking come,

And cock my hat,

Leer and all that,

And ever dread,

A broken head,

When the cause of strife's a doxy,

Let others go,

And 'gain'st the foe,

Gain glory's scars,

In honor's wars,

I'd rather fight by proxy.

Thus through the world I make a nois,

Where'er I am a sojourner,

The mighty wonders and surprise,

Of every chimney corner,

Where with fife and drum,

I smirking come,

And rap out sounds

And talk of wounds,

Nor ever dread,

A broken head,

Where the cause of strife's a doxy,

They're fools who go,

And 'gainst the foe,

In glory's wars,

Gain honor's scars,

I'm wise and fight by proxy

HAIL COLUMBIA!

HAIL COLUMBIA! happy land!

Hail ye HEROES! Heav'n born band,

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,

[Page] And when the storm of war was gone,

Enjoy'd the peace, your valor won.

Let INDEPENDENCE be our boast,

Ever mindful what it cost;

Ever grateful for the prize,

Let its altar reach the skies.

CHORUS.

Firm—united—let us be,

Rallying round our LIBERTY;

As a band of brothers join'd,

Peace and safety we shall find.

IMMORTAL PATRIOTS! rise once more,

Defend your rights, defend your shore,

Let no rude foe with impious hand,

Let no rude foe with impious hand,

Invade the shrine where sacred lies,

Of toil and blood the well-earn'd prize.

While offering peace, sincere and just,

In Heaven we place a manly trust,

That truth and justice will prevail,

And every scheme of bondage fail.

Firm—united, &c.

Sound, sound the trump of Fame,

Let WASHINGTON's great name

Ring thro' the world with loud applause,

Ring thro' the world with loud applause,

Let every clime to Freedom dear,

Listen with a joyful ear—

With equal skill, with god-like pow'r,

He governs in the fearful hour

Of horrid war, or guides with ease

The happier times of honest peace.

Firm—united, &c.

[Page]

Behold the CHIEF who now commands,

Once more to save his country, stands

The rock on which the storm will beat,

The rock on which the storm will beat,

But arm'd in Virtue, firm and true,

His hopes are fix'd on Heav'n and You.

When Hope was sinking in dismay,

When glooms obscur'd Columbia's day,

His steady mind, from changes free,

Resolv'd on DEATH or LIBERTY.

Firm—united, &c.

MOGGY

YOUNG Mog arriv'd at woman's growth,

Felt something in her bosom move,

'Twas neither joy nor pain, yet both,

Young Ralph o'th woodland said 'twas love.

Ralph lov'd young Moggy as his life,

Was wealthy, warm, and well to do,

But Moggy saw the soldiers come,

Beheld the glittering arms so gay,

Was charm'd with the loud trumpets bray,

Delighted with the sprightly fife,

And deafen'd with the thund'ring drum,

While the soldiers march'd to the loud tattoo,

And though to honest Ralph still true,

She listen'd to the loud tattoo.

I've said that Mog was dehonair,

Nor was her admiration small,

She was thought artless, young and fair,

By the regiment pioneers and all.

Each would have ta'en her for his wife,

Ala militaire as sodiers do;

The smock fac'd ensign nam'd his sum,

[Page] The sergeant promis'd, swore, and pray'd,

The trumpeter her praises bray'd;

To charm her loudly squeak'd the fife,

The drummer brac'd his thundring drum,

To win her heart with a loud tattoo,

Thus strove to make young Mog untrue,

Pike, trumpet, fife, and loud tattoo.

Mog soon found reason to condemn

The nonsense of each blustering elf;

And looking with contempt on them,

Some little shame took on herself.

Determin'd now to be the wife

Of honest Ralph so kind and true,

Cried she to the ensign, child go home

To your mama—for you, old bluff,

Your trumpet's like youself, a puff!

I'll not be whistled after fife,

Nor drummer, shall your hollow drum

To me beat wedlock's loud tattoo,

True to my Ralph, to honor true,

Hence trumpet, fife, and loud tattoo.

THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL.

ON Richmond hill there lives a lass,

More bright than May day morn,

Whose charms all other maids surpass,

A rose without a thorn.

CHORUS.

This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet,

Has won my right good will,

I'd crowns resign to call the mine,

Sweet lass of Richmond hill.

[Page]

Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air,

And wonton through the grove,

O whisper to my charming fair,

I die for her and love.

This lass so neat, &c.

How happy will the shepherd be,

Who calls this nymph his own;

O may her choice be fix'd on me,

Mine's fix'd on her alone.

This lass so neat, &c.

I'M IN HASTE.

AS cross the field the other morn,

I tript so blithe and gay,

The 'Squire with his dog and gun,

By chance came by that way;

Wither so fast, sweet maid, he cry'd,

And caught me round the waist,

Pray stop awhile, dear sir, said I,

I can't for I'm in haste.

You must not go as yet, cry'd he,

For I have much to say,

Come sit you down, and let us chat

Upon this new mown hay;

I've lov'd you long, and oft have wish'd

Those ruby lips to taste,

I'll have a kiss, well then, said I,

Be quick, for I'm in haste.

Just as I spoke, I saw young Hodge,

Come through a neigboring gate

He caught my hand, and cry'd, dear girl

I fear I've made you wait,

[Page] But here's a ring, come let's to church,

The joys of love to taste,

I left 'Squire, and laughing cry'd.

You see, Sir, I'm in haste.

The four following Songs are sung in the "SURRENDER OF CALAIS."

MADELON—A DUET.

SHE.

CAN you to the battle march away,

And leave me here complaining?

I am sure 'twill break my heart to stay

When you are gone campaigning.

Ah! no, ah! no, poor Madelon

Will never quit her rover,

Ah! no, ah! no, poor Madelon

Will go with you all the world over.

HE.

Cheer, cheer my love, you shall not grieve,

A soldier true you'll find me,

I could have the heart to leave

My little girl behind me.

Ah! no, ah! no, &c.

SHE.

Can you to the battle go,

To woman's fear a stranger!

No fears my breast shall ever know,

But when my love's in danger.

Ah! no, ah! no, &c.

[Page]

BOTH.

Then let the world jog as it will,

Let all our friends forsake us,

We both shall be as happy still

As love and war can make us.

Ah! no, ah! no, &c.

LERA LA.

LITTLE does the townswife know,

While at home she tarries,

What must be a lass's life,

Who a soldier marries;

Now with weary marching spent,

Dancing now before the tent,

Lera, lera, la.

In the camp all night she lies,

Wind and weather scorning,

Only grieves her love must rise,

And quit her ere the morning;

But the doubtful skirmish done,

Pleas'd she sing at fitring sun,

Lera, lera, la.

Should the captain of her dear

Use his vain endeavor,

Whispering nonsense in her ear,

Two fond hearts to sever;

At his passion she will scoff,

Laughing thus she puts him off,

Lera, lera, la.

[Page]

CORPORAL CASEY.

WHEN I was at home I was merry and frisky,

My dad kept a pig, and my mother sold whiskey;

My uncle was rich, but would never be easy,

Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey:

Och, rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Corporal Casey,

My dear little Shelah I tho't would run crazy,

When I trudg'd away with tough Corporal Casey.

I march'd from Kilkenny, and as I was thinking

On Shelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking;

But soon I was fore'd to look fresh as a daisey,

For fear of a drubbing from Corporal Casey:

Och, rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Corporal Casey,

The devil go with him, I ne'er could be lazy,

He stuck in my skirts so, ould Corporal Casey.

We went into battle, I took the blows fairly

That fell on my pate, but they bother'd me rarely;

And who should the first be that dropt?—why an't please ye,

It was my good friend, honest Corporal Casey.

Thinks I, you are quiet, and I shall be easy.

For there you lie high and dry, Corporal Casey

WAR HAS STILL IT'S MELODY.

WAR has still it's melody;—

When blows come thick, and arrows fly,

When the soldier marches o'er

The crimson'd field knee-deep in gore;

By carnage and grim death surrounded,

And the groans of dying men confounded;

[Page] If the warlike drum he hears,

And the shrill trumpet strikes his ears,

Rous'd by the spirit-stirring tones,

Music's influence he owns:

His lusty heart beats quick and high—

War has still its melody.

But when-the hard-fought day is done,

And the battle's fairly won;

Oh! then he trolls the jolly note

In triumph through his rusty throat;

And all the story of the s [...]eife.

He carois to the merry fife.

His comrades join their teats to tell.

The chorus then begins to swell,

Loud [...]tiall music rends the sky—

This is the soldier's melody.

HEAVING THE LEAD.

FOR our country when with fav'ring gale

Our gallant ship up channel steer'd,

And scudding under easy sail,

The high blue western land appear'd,

To heave the lead the seaman sprung,

And to the pilot cheerly sung,

"By the deep—Nine!"

And bearing up to gain the port,

Some well-known object kept in view,

An abbey-tow'r, an harbor-fort,

Or beacon, to the vessel true;

While oft the lead the seaman flung,

And to the pilot cheerly sung,

"By the mark—Seven!"

[Page]

And as the much-lov'd shore we're near;

With transport we behold the roof,

Where dwelt a friend or partner dear,

Of faith and love a matchless proof.

The lead once more the seaman flung,

And to the watchful pilot sung,

"Quarter less—Five!"

JACK IN HIS ELEMENT.

BOLD Jack, the sailor, here I come,

Pray how d'ye like my nib,

My trowsers wide, trampler on,

My nab and flowing jib:

I sail the seas from end to end,

And lead a joyous life,

At every mess we find a friend,

At every port a wife.

I've heard them talk of constancy,

Of grief, and such like fun,

I've constant been to ten, cry'd I.

But never griev'd for one.

The flowing sails we tars unbend,

To lead a roving life,

At every mess we find a friend,

At every port a wife.

I've a spanking wife at Portsmouth gates,

A pigmy at Goree,

An orange-tawny up the Straits,

A black at St: Lucie.

Thus whatsoever course we bend,

We lead a jovial life,

[Page] At every mess we find a friend,

At every port a wife.

Will Gaff by death was ta'en a-back,

I came to bring the news,

Poil whimper'd sore, but what object,

I stood in William's shoes.

She got high chest, and at the end

She loves me as her life,

And she has now an honest friend,

And I a loving wife.

Come all you sailors that do go,

The dangerous seas to rub,

You must work, love and fight your foes,

And drink your generous bub,

Storms that our masts in splinters tear,

Can take our joyous life,

In every want we find a friend,

And every port a wise.

WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE!

O DEAR! what can the matter be!

Dear! dear! what can the matter be!

Johnny's so long at the fair;

He promis'd to buy me a pair of blue stockings,

A pair of new garters which cost but two pence,

He promis'd he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons

To tie up my bonny brown hair.

O dear! what can the matter be!

Dear! dear! what can the matter be!

O dear! what can the matter be!

Johnny's so long at the fair!

He promis'd to bring me a basket of posies,

[Page] A garland of lillies, a garland of roses,

A little straw hat set off whith blue ribbons,

To tie up my bonny brown hair.

O dear! see how he's running,

Dear! dear! see he is coming,

O dear! see how he's running,

Johnny's return'd from the fair:

He has brought me a delicate basket of posies,

A garland of lillies, a garland of roses,

A little straw hat to set off with blue ribbons,

To tie up my bonny brown hair.

THE HIGH METTLED RACER.

SEE the course throng'd with gazers, the sports, are begun,

What confusion! but hear!—I'll bet you, sir—done done;

A thousand strange rumors resound far and near,

Lords, hawkers, and jockies assail the tir'd ear;

Whilst with neck like a rainbow erecting his crest,

Pamper'd, prancing, his head almost touching his breast,

Scarcely snuff [...]ing the air, he's so proud and elate,

The high mettled racer first starts for the plate.

Now Reynard's turn'd out, and o'er hedge and ditch rush,

Men, horses, and dogs, who are hard at his brush;

O'er heath, hill and mound, and led by their sly prey,

By scent and by view, cheat the long tedious way:

When alike born for joys of the field and the course,

[Page] Always sure to come through a flaunch and fleet horse;

And when fairly run down the fox yields up his breath,

The high mettled racer is in at the death.

Grown aged, us'd up, and turn'd out of the stud,

Lame, spavin'd, and wind-gall'd, but yet with some blood;

Whilst knowing postilions his pedigree trace,

Tell how his dam won the sweepstakes, his fire the race;

And what matches he's gain'd to the hostlers count o'er,

As they loiter their time at some hedge-ale-house door,

Whilst the harness sore galls, and the spurs his sides goad,

The high mettled racer's a ha [...] on the road.

At length old and feeble, d [...]ging early and late,

Bow'd down by degrees, h [...] bends on to his fate;

From morning till evening [...]e tugs in a mill,

Or draws sand till the sands of hour glass stand still:

And when lifeless and cold he's expos'd to the view,

In that very same cart which he yesterday drew,

Whilst a pitying croud his sad relic [...] surrounds,

The high mettled racer is sold for the hounds.

§

[Page]

The two following Songs are sung in the "HIGHLAND REEL."

THO' I'M A VERY LITTLE LAD.

THO' I'm a very little lad,

If fighting men cannot be had,

For want of better I may do,

To follow the boy with a rat-tat-too;

I may seem tender, yet I'm tough,

And tho' not much o' me, right good stuff,

Of this I'll boast, say more who can,

I never was afraid to meet my man.

I'm a chickabiddy see, take me now now now,

I'm a little merry he, for your row dow dow,

Brown Bess I'll knock about, oh there's my joy,

At my back a knapsack like a roving boy.

In my tartan plaid a young soldier view,

My phillibeg and dirk, and my bonnet blue,

Give the word, and I'll march at your command,

Noble Serjeant with a shilling strike my hand.

My Captain, as he takes his glass,

May wish to toy with a pretty lass,

For such a one I have a roguish eye,

He'll never want a lass when I am by.

I'm a chickabiddy, &c.

Tho' a barber never yet has mow'd my chin,

With my great broad sword I long to begin,

Cut, slash, ram, dam—oh! glorious fun,

For a gun, pip, pop, change my little pop gun.

My foes shall fly like geese in slocks,

F [...]en Turks I'll drive like turky-cocks,

And wherever quarter'd I shall be,

Oh, zounds! how I'll kiss my landlady.

I'm a chickabiddy, &c.

[Page]

WHEN I'VE MONEY I AM MERRY.

WHEN I've money I am merry,

When I've none I'm very sad;

When I'm sober I am civil,

When I'm drunk I'm roaring mad.

With my titol teedle tum,

Likewise fol lol feedle fum,

Fot forgetting diderum hi,

And also teedle tweedle dum.

When disputing with a puppy,

I convince him with a rap;

When I'm romping with a girl,

By accident I tear her cap.

Gadzooks I'll never marry,

I'm a lad that's bold and free,

Yet I love a pretty girl,

A pretty girl is fond of me.

With my, &c.

There's a maiden in a corner,

Round and sound, and plump and fat,

She and I made love together,

But no matter, sir, for that.

If this maiden be wi' bairn,

As I do suppose she'll be,

Like good pappy I must learn

To dandle Jacky on my knee.

With my, &c.

THE DESPONDING NEGRO.

ON Afric's wide plains where lions now roaring,

With freedom stalk forth, the vast desart exploring,

[Page] I was dragg'd from my hut, and enchain'd as a slave,

In a dark floating dungeon upon the salt wave.

Spare a fialfpeuny, spare a halfpenny!

Oh! spare a halfpenny to a poor Negro.

Toss'd on the wild main, I all wildly despairing,

Burst my chains, rush'd on deck with my eye-balls quite glaring,

When the lightning's dread blast struck the inlets of day,

And its glorious bright beams shut forever away,

Spare a halfpenny, &c.

The despoiler of man then his project thus losing

Of gain, by my sale, none a blind bargain chusing,

As my value compar'd with my keeping was light,

[...]ad me dash'd overboard in the dead of the dight.

Spare a halfpenny, &c.

And but for a bark to Columbia's coast bound then,

All my cares by that plung [...] in the deep had been drown'd then,

But by moonlight descried, I was snatch'd from the wave,

And reluctantly robb'd of a watery grave.

Spare a halfpenny, &c.

How disastrous my fate! Freedom's ground tho' I trend now,

Torn from home, wife, and children, and wand'ring for bread now,

While seas roll between us, which ne'er can be cross'd,

And hope's distant glimmerings in darkness are lost.

Spare a halfpenny, &c.

[Page]

But of mind foul and fair, when the judge and ponderer

Shall restore light and rest to the, blind and wanderer,

The European's deep dye may outrival the sloe,

And the soul of an Ethiop prove white as snow.

Spare a halfpenny, &c.

THE SAILOR'S CONSOLATION.

SPANRING Jack was so comely, so pleasant, so jolly,

Tho' winds blew great guns he would whistle and sing;

Jack lov'd his friend, and was true to his Molly,

And if honor bro't titles was as great as a king;

One night as we drove with two reefs in our mainsail,

And the soud came on louring upon a lee shore,

Jack went up aloft for to hand the top-gallant fail,

A spray wash'd him off, and we ne'er saw him more.

CHORUS.

But grieving's a folly, come let us be jolly,

If we've troubles at sea, boys, we've pleasures on shore.

Whistling Tom, still of mischief and fun in the middle,

Thro life in all weathers at random we jog,

He'd dance and he'd sing, and he'd play on the fiddle,

And swig with an air his allowance of grog;

[Page]

Long side of a Don, in the Terrible frigate,

As yard arm and yard arm we lay off the shore,

In and out whistling Tom did so caper and jig it,

That his head was shot off and we ne'er saw him more.

Bonny Ben was to each jolly messmate a brother,

He was manly and honest, good natur'd and free;

If ever one tar was more free than another,

To his friend and his duty that sailor was he,

One day with the david to heave the cadge anchor,

Ben went in a boat on a bold craggy shore,

He overboard tipt, when a shark and a spanker,

Soon nipt him in two, and we ne'er saw him more.

But what of it all, lads, shall we be down hearted

Because that may hap we may take the last sup,

Life's cable must one day or other be parted,

And death in safe mooring will bring us all up.

But 'tis always the way on't one scarce sinds a brother,

Found a pitch honest hearty, and true to the core,

But by battle or storm or some d—thing or other,

He's popp'd off the hooks, and we ne'er saw him more.

[Page]

LA CARMAGNOLE.

LOUD thund'ring cannons rend the air,

Loud thund'ring cannons rend the air,

To march ye warlike sons prepare,

To march ye warlike sons prepare,

Heroes of patriot flame,

While rushing on to fame,

Dance oh the Carmagnole,

May cannons roar,

May cannons roar,

Dance oh the Carmagnole,

May cannons roar evermore.

In vain those millions of our foes,

In vain those millions of our foes,

In impious union leagu'd oppose,

In impious union leagu'd oppose,

But dangers, death, and fire,

No slavish fears inspire:

Dance oh the Carmagnole, &c.

The famous Brunswick's flaming arm,

The famous Brunswick's flaming arm,

'Tis said will do us wond'rous harm;

'Tis said will do us wond'rous harm;

To teach him his mistake,

Let our fierce cannons wake;

Dance oh the Carmagnole, &c.

Since Doumourier's a rogue, they say

Since Doumourier's a rogue, they say

Our blooming laurels must decay,

Our blooming laurels must decay:

But they who thus surmise,

Shall gape with wild surprise:

Dance oh the Carmagnole, &c.

[Page]

TRIUMPH OF LIBERTY.

Sung at a meeting of the Friends of the People in Edinburgh, (Scotland)

COME cheer up my countrymen, ne'er be dismay'd;

For Freedom her banners once more has display'd,

Be staunch to your rights, hark to Liberty's call.

For Freedom, dear Freedom, stand up one and all!

With heart and with hand

Swear firmly to stand,

Till oppression is driven quite out of the land.

To redress all our wrongs let M [...]n's Rights be apply'd;

Truth and justice they snow, and by these we'll abide.

Luxurious pomp, which brings taxes and vows,

No more we'll maintain with the sweat of our brows.

But with heart, &c.

The bold Rights of Man struck such terror and fear,

That stern proclamations in all parts appear:

But deter us they can't—for as friends well agree

The state to reform—and we'll die or be free.

Then with heart, &c.

So much tribute we pay, that we scarcely can live;

For the light of the sun what a r [...]nt do we give!

To be told we are happy! 'tis mere gasconade;

We are burthen'd like slaves, and like pack-horses made!

But with heart, &c.

[Page]

Then to Freedom press forward, like men who are wise,

And accompany France out of bondage to rise—

Like America's world; let us with them agree,

And join the grand concert—To die or be free!

Then with heart, &c.

MARSEILLES HYMN.
[Written as nearly in imitation of the original as possible.]

RISE, patriot sons! the morn appears,

The dawn of glory gilds the world,

'Gainst us, dark kings—the source of tears—

Their bloody standards have unfurl'd.

Hark, shepherds! how the demons roar,

The shouts of ghastly slaves arise;

They come like fiends before your eyes,

To quaff your wives' and infants' gore.

CHORUS.

To arms, my country! form your matchless band,

March, march, that despots' blood may drench your native land.

What mean those slaves that throng our plains,

Those kings combin'd of sanguine cast?

For whom are those infernal chains.

Prepar'd for man in ages past?

On us, brave Gauls, what tempests lour!

What tripple wrath should patriots feel!

To ancient glooms and clanking steel,

They'd chain the victims of their pow'r.

To arms, &c.

Good Heav'ns! and would a foreign band

Ordain for us domestic laws?

[Page] Would menial foes, with stern command.

Abuse our heroes and our cause!

Great GOD! must we with fetter'd arms

Beneath the yoke of tyrants bend!

Would their dark fiats prove our end,

And fate decree such dread alarms.?

To arms, &c.

No! tremble, dastards, with dismay,

The curst reproach of all mankind;

Your impious deeds that shunn'd the day,

Shall feel our utmost wrath combin'd:

Our sons are heroes, miscreants yield!

And should those patriot sons expire,

From earth shall spring a race more dire,

Prepar'd to crush you in the field.

To arms, &c.

Intrepid Gauls! let wrath inspire,

Let vengeance flame withold your rage,

Ah! spare those victims of your ire,

Whose h [...]nds reluctant conflicts wage:

But smite those sanguinary kings,

And Bouille's dark detested brood.

Those fiends that drink their mothers' blood,

Those monsters with envenom'd stings.

To arms, &c.

Oh sacred patriotic flame!

Be thou th' intripid patriot's shield:

Oh virtuous Liberty! proclaim

Thine armies victors in the field.

Where thy triumphant standard flies,

May bright plum'd victory repose,

[Page] May thy relentless dying foes,

Behold thy infants glories rise.

To arms, &c.

TRUMPET OF LIBERTY.

THE Trumpet of Liberty sounds thro the world,

And the universe starts at the sound.

Her standard philosophy's hand has unfurl'd,

And the nations are thronging around,

CHORUS.

Fall, tyrants! fall! fall! fall!

These are the days of Liberty!

Fall, tyrants! fall!

How noble the ardor that seizes the soul!

How it bursts from the yoke and the chain!

What power can the fervor of Freedom controul,

Or its terrible vengeance restrain?

Fall, tyrants! &c.

Proud castle of despotism, dungeons and cells,

The tempest shall sweep you away;

From the east to the west the dread hurricane swells,

And the tyrants are chill'd with dismay.

Fall, tyrants! &c.

The slave on whose head the proud despots have trod,

Now feels that himself is a man,

While the lordly usurper who rul'd with a nod,

Hides his head midst his servile divan.

Fall, tyrants! &c.

Poor vassals, who crawl by the Vistula's stream,

Hear, hear the glad call and obey!

[Page] Rise, nations! who worship the sun's facred beams.

And drive your Pizarro's away.

Fall, tyrants! &c.

The cruel dominion of priestcraft is o'er,

Its thunders, its faggots and chains;

Mankind will endure the wild bondage no more,

While religion our Freedom maintains.

Fall, tyrants! &c.

Shall Britons the chorus of Liberty hear,

With a cold and insensible mind?

No—triumphs of Freedom each Briton shall share,

And contend for the rights of mankind.

Fall tyrants! &c.

GOD SAVE THE RIGHTS OF MAN!

GOD save the Rights of Man!

Give us a heart to scan

Blessings so dear!

Let them be spread around

Wherever man is found,

And with the welcome sound

Ravish each ear.

Let us with FRANCE agree,

And bid the world be free—

While tyrants fall—

Let the rude savage host

In their vast numbers boast—

Freedom's almighty trust

Laughs, at them all.

Tho' hosts of slaves conspire

To quench fair Gallia's fire,

Still shall they fail:

[Page] Tho traitors ronnd her rise,

Leagu'd with her enemies,

To war each patriot flies,

And will prevail.

The world at last will join

To aid thy great design

Dear Liberty!

To Russia's frozen lands,

The generous flame expands;

On Asia's burning sands

Shall man be free.

In this our western world

Be Freedom's flag unfurl'd

Through all our shores,

May no destructive blust

Our Heav'n with clouds o'er cast,

May Freedom's fabric last

While earth endures.

If e'er her cause should fail,

Ambition's fiends assail,

Slaves to a throne;

May no proud despot daunt—

Should he his standard plant,

Freedom will never want

Her WASHINGTON!—

THE PRIMROSE GIRL.

COME buy of poor Mary, Primroses I sell,

In London's fam'd city I'm known mighty well,

Tho my heart is quite sunk, yet I constantly cry

Who'll buy Primroses, who'll buy Primroses,

Who'll buy Primroses, who'll buy, who'll buy.

[Page]

Friends and parents I've none. I'm look'd on with scorn,

Much better [...]r me had I never been born,

I'm poo [...] but I'm honest, I constantly cry

Who'll buy Primroses, who'll buy Primroses,

Who'll buy Primroses, &c.

My companions despise me, and say that I'm proud,

Because I avoid them and keep from the croud;

From wicked temptations I ever would fly,

I'll live by Primroses, come who'll buy Primroses,

Who'll buy Primroses, &c.

If pity to virtue was ever ally'd,

The tear of compassion ne'er yet was deny'd,

Then pity poor Mary. who plaintive doth cry

Who'll buy Primroses, who'll buy Primroses,

Who'll buy Primroses, &c.

LILLIES OF THE VALLEY.

O'ER barren hills and flow'ry dales,

O'er seas and distant shores;

With merry song and jocund tales

My love has past his hours;

Tho wan [...]dring thus he ne'er could find

A girl like little Sally,

Who picks and culls—and cries aloud,

Sweet Lillies of the Valley.

From whistling o'er the harrow'd turf,

From nesting of each tree,

He chose a soldier's life to wed,

So social, gay and free.

[Page] Yet tho the lasses love him well,

And often try to rally,

None pleases him like her who cries

Sweet Lillies of the Valley.

He's now return'd, crown'd with applause,

To use his native toil—

From fighting in his country's cause,

To plough his country's soil.

I care not which, with either pleas'd,

So still he loves his Sally:

The little merry nymph that cries

Sweet Lillies of the Valley.

FREEDOM OR THE GRAVE.

FILL high the animating glass,

And let th' electric ruby pass

From hand to hand, from soul to soul;

Who shall the energy [...]ontroul,

Exalted, pure, refin'd,

The Health of Human kind!

CHORUS.

Assert the hallow'd Rights which Nature gave,

And let your last best Vow, be FREEDOM or the GRAVE.

Not now a venal tribe shall raise

The song of prostituted praise,

To sov'reigns who have seiz'd their pow'r

But at this gay, this lib'ral hour,

We bless what Heaven desin'd,

The Health of Human kind,

Assert the hallow'd, &c.

[Page]

We turn indignant from each cause

Of man's dismay; from partial laws,

From kings who vainly seek by flight,

To fhun the blaze of Mortal light;

We bless what Heaven design'd,

The Health of Human kind.

Assert the hallow'd, &c.

STAND TO YOUR GUNS.

STAND to your guns, my hearts of oak,

Let not a word on b [...]rd be spoke,

Victory soon will [...] n the joke,

Be [...]lear and be ready:

Ram home our guns, and spunge them well,

Let us be sure the balls will tell,

The cannons roar shall found their knell,

Be steady, boys, be steady.

Nor yet, nor yet—reserve your fire,

I do desire,

Now the elements do rattle,

The gods amaz'd behold the battle,

A broadside, my boys.

See the blood in purple tide.

Trickle down her better'd side,

Wing'd with face the bullets fly,

Conquer, Boys, or bravely Die:

Hurl distruction on your foes,

She sinks, huzza, to the bottom—down she goes.

[Page]

FOUR-AND-TWENTY FIDLERS.
[A COMIC MEDLEY]

FOUR and twenty fidlers all in a row,

Four and twenty, &c.

There was fiddle-faddle-fiddle,

and double demi-semi-quibble down below;

This is my lady's birth day,

Therefore we will keep holiday,

And come for to be merry.

Four and twenty drummers all in a row,

Four and twenty, &c.

And there was I rub a dub, O rub a dub,

And fiddle-faddle-fiddle, &c.

Four and twenty trumpeters all in a row,

Four and twenty, &c.

There was tantarararo, I rub a dub, &c.

Four and twenty coblers all in a row,

Four and twenty, &c.

There was coblers & stop-awls, stop-awls & coblers,

And tantarararo I rub a dub a dub, &c.

Four and twenty fencing-masters all in a row,

Four and twenty, &c.

There was push carte and tierce,

down with his heels and cut him across,

Coblers and stop-awls, &c.

Four and twenty captains all in a row,

Four and twenty, &c.

There was d—n him, kick him down stairs,

Push carte and tirce, &c.

[Page]

Four and twenty parsons all in a row,

Four and twenty parsons, &c.

There was L—d have mercy upon us,

D—n him, kick him down stairs, &c.

Four and twenty tailors all in a row,

Four and twenty tailors, &c.

There was one caught a louse, another let him loose

D—n his eyes says another knock him down with the goose;

Lord have mercy upon us, &c.

Four and twenty barbers all in a row,

Four and twenty barbers, &c.

There were long wigs, toupees, frizee, friz, powder and pomatum, two ruffles and never a shirt; d—n'd hard times, walk in your honors—and shave for a penny;

One caught a louse, &c.

Four and twenty quakers all in a row,

Four and twenty quakers, &c.

There was Abraham he begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob, and Jacob open'd his generation box—

With long wigs, toupees, &c.

Four and twenty dutchmen all in a row,

Four and twenty dutchmen, &c.

There were Americanos, Spaniorum, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and d—nation seize them altogether: Abram he begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob, and Jacob open'd his generation box— With long wigs, toupees frizee, frize, powder and pomatum, two ruffles and never a shirt, [Page]d—'d hard times, walk in your honors, and shave for a penny—One caught a louse, another let him loose, d—n his eyes, says another, knock him down with the goose—L—d have mercy upon us—d—n him kick him down stairs—Push carte and tierce, down with his heels and cut him across—Coblers and stop awls, stop awls and coblers—Tantarararo—I rub a dub, O rub a dub—And fiddle faddle fiddle, and double demi semi quibble down below,

This is my lady's birth day,

Therefore we will keep holiday,

And come for to be merry.

ACROSS THE DOWNS.
Sung in the Opera of No SONG NO SUPPER.

ACROSS the downs this morning,

As betimes I chanc'd to go,

A shepherd led his flock abroad,

All white as driven snow:

But one was most the shepherd's care,

A lamb so sleek, so plumb, so fair;

Its wond'rous beauties in a word,

To let you fairly know,

'Twas such as Nelly from the fire,

Took off not long ago.

This lamb so blithe as midsummer,

His frolic gambols play'd,

And now of all the flock a head

The pretty wanton stray'd;

A wolf that watch'd with greedy eyes.

Rush'd forth and seiz'd the tender prize;

[Page] The shepherd saw and rais'd a stone,

So round, so large, I vow,

'Twas like the cake that Nelly laid,

Upon the shelf just now.

This mon'strous stone the shepherd flung,

And well his aim he took;

Yet scarce the savage creature deign'd

Behind to cast a look;

But fled as swift with footsteps light,

As he who brought the wine to-night;

I try'd to stop the thief, but he

Turn'd round in rage, good lack!

So mad the lawyer scarce can be,

That's hid in yonder sack.

BONNY CHARLEY.

O Dearly do I love to rove,

Among the fields of barley,

'Twas there that Charley told his love,

The blithe the winsome Charley:

Then he sa'd, and he so woo'd,

And marriage was the parley,

What could I do but backle too

With bonny, bonny Charley.

CHORUS.

O my bonny, bonny boy,

My bonny, bonny Charley;

O my bonny, bonny boy,

My bonny, bonny Charley.

I ken the lasses rue the day,

I sought the fields of barley;

[Page]

And strive to win from me away,

The heart of winsome Charley;

But ah! how vain, they canna gain

His love by all their parley;

And now they see he woos but me,

My bonny bonny Charley.

O my bonny, &c.

O ilka blessi [...]g on the laird,

Who owns the fields of barley;

And ken I him alone regard,

For he is winsome Charley;

The gentle youth, with purest truth,

So woos me late and early;

I can't withstand, to give my hand,

To bonny, bonny Charley.

O my bonny, &c.

LET THE BILLOWS ROAR.

WHEN whistling winds are heard to blow,

In tempests o'er the earth,

The seaman's o [...]t dash'd to and fro,

Yet cheerly take his birth:

And as he fearless mounts the shrouds,

A while the vessel swings,

The skies are mantled o'er with clouds,

The gallant sailor sings.—

CHORUS.

'Tis pretty Poll and honest Jack,

My girl and friend on snore,

Will hail me at returning back,

So let the billows roar.

[Page] When bending o'er the rocky yard,

While seas in mountains rise,

He takes a spell however hard,

And danger ne'er defies:

The storm once o'er, the gallant tar

Let's fancy freely roam,

And tho' from many a friend afar,

Thus sings of those at home.—

'Tis pretty Poll, &c.

On burning coasts, or frozen seas,

Alike in each extreme,

The gallant sailor's e'er at ease,

And floats with fortune's stream:

To love and friendship ever true,

He steers life's course along,

And wheresoever sailing to,

Fond hope elates his song.

'Tis pretty Poll, &c.

CHASE OF THE HARE.

THIS morning Aurora peep'd over the hills,

And the frost had deserted the meadows and rills,

And the heart cheering horn did enliven the hound

Who with nostrils extended, snuff'd over the ground;

We mounted our horses devoid of all care,

For no pleasure can equal the chase of the hare.

To the chase we have been unattended by fear,

For friendship was present when danger was near,

With joy and delight the fleet hare we pursue,

What music can equal the hounds in a views;

[Page] When shouts and rejoicings then rended the air,

With the cry of the hounds at the death of the hare.

When the morn it is past, in the evening we join

In mirth and good fellowship, freedom and wine,

No disputes at our meeting shall ever appear,

No scoundrel partakes of our temperate cheer;

But with hearts fall of joy—we sing merrily on,

Success to our Country, and great Washington.

WHEN I WAS A CHIT.

WHEN I was a chit, just got into my teens,

And the men would be asking a kiss;

Thinks I to myself I scarce know what it means,

But I think I ought not to say yes;

To be sure it was fine

When they call'd me divine,

Tho' I've simper'd and cry'd let me go,

O dear, sir, O la!

I'll acquaint my mamma,

If that you keep teazing and sqeezing me so.

Improving in skill as advancing in years,

Each lesson of love got by heart,

More eager my hopes, more decided my fears,

Pure nature sought refuge in arts—

At each swain that drew nigh,

I look'd under my eye,

And loighter'd, pretending to go;

If prest to sit down,

I exclaim'd with a frown,

How dare you keep teazing and sqeezing me so.

[Page]

Coquetting's now o'er, and settled for life,

Each feeling is fairly confess'd,

Attach'd to the duties of parent and wife,

'Tis nature still reigns in the breast:

To my heart's bosom friend,

I no coolness pretend,

Nor from him seem anxious to go:

Nor ever complain,

With affected disdain,

But doubt whether squeezing be teazing or no.

BLUNDER O'WHACK.

COME listen awhile, and I'll sing you a ditty,

Shall make ev'ry soul of you laugh till you cry,

And own you ne'er heard of a tale half so pretty,

As what I'm beginning to tell by and by;

It's all about Blunder O'Whack of Kilkenny,

Who took once from Dublin to London a trip,

For staying at home I thought it all blarney,

So set off and walk'd all the way in a ship.

With my whack, &c.

For I'd an ould uncle I tell you my honey,

Who died in the morning one night t'other day,

And he very civily left me all his money,

Because, why, he could'nt well take it away;

So when I had money I rode it in chaises,

And look'd very big upon those who had none,

For he that has no cash may walk if he pleases,

Or if that don't please him, why then he must run.

With my whack, &c.

So to London I came, and I thought it so pretty,

To see the folks crowding along in the street,

[Page] Where a body may walk from the strand to the city,

And run up against ev'ry soul that you meet;

And then there's the gentry so nate and so nimble,

As if to the business they born were and bred,

Who can slip off a watch, or a purse, or a thimble,

Or your pockets can pick of the hat off your head.

With my whack, &c.

Then there's Hugh's and Astley's odd whimseys and capers,

Where horses have every perfection but speech,

And the jockies all ride as you read in the papers,

On three horses at once with a leg upon each;

And then there's your sieges [...] battles so clever,

Where wooden battalions all join in the strife,

And soldiers of pasteboard each other dissever,

And all the dead men look as natural as life.

With my whack, &c.

Then for Dublin I travell'd all night and all day,

While the ship in the water was led such a dance,

That somehow we found she'd mistaken her way,

And instead of dear Dublin we landed in France;

Where if a man dare his opinion to mention,

Before he can speak it they chop of his head!

For those ugly spalpeens that are call'd the Convention,

Never try a poor fellow till after he's dead.

With a whack, &c.

And so by my conscience I left them behind, sir,

And soon made the best of my way from the south;

For how did I know but they might be so kind, sir,

As to send home O'Whack, with his head in his mouth.

[Page] And to London return'd, I was pleas'd d'ye see, sir,

To think from those blood hounds I safe had got back,

For if the had happen'd to Guillotine me, sir,

'Twould have spoil'd all the singing of Blunder O'Whack.

With a whack, &c.

BONNY JIM OF ABERDEEN.

THE tuneful lav'rocks cheer the grove,

And sweetly smells the summer green:

Now o'er the meed I love to rove

Wi' bonny Jim of Aberdeen.

Bonny Jim of Aberdeen,

Bonny Jim of Aberdeen:

Now o'er the mead I love to rove

Wi' bonny Jim of Aberdeen.

CHORUS.

Whene'er we sit beneath the broom,

Or wander o'er the lee,

He's always wooing, wooing, wooing,

Always wooing me.

Whene'er we sit, &c.

He's fresh and fair as flow'rs in May,

The blithest lad of a' the green;

How sweet the time will pass away

Wi' bonny Jim of Aberdeen.

Whene'er we sit, &c.

Wi' joy I leave my father's cot,

Wi' ilka' sport of glen or green,

[Page] Well pleas'd to share the humble lot

Of bonny Jim of Aberdeen.

Whene'er we sit, &c.

OUR COUNTRY IS OUR SHIP.

OUR country is our ship, d'ye see,

A gallant vessel too;

And of his fortune proud is he

Who's of Columbia's crew.

Each man, whate'er his station be,

When duty's call commands,

Should take his stand,

And lend a hand,

As the common cause demands.

When any haughty enemies

Our Federal ship assail,

Then all true hearted lads despis [...]

What perils may prevail;

But shrinking from the cause we prize,

If lubbers skulk below,

To the sharks

Heave such sparks,

They'd assist the common foe.

Among ourselves, in peace, 'tis true

We quarrel—make a rout

And having nothing else to do,

We fairly scold it out.

But once an enemy in view,

Sh [...]ke hands—we soon are friends,

On the deck

Till a wreck,

Each the common cause defends.

[Page]

WOMAN.
Sung in the Bagatelle of the "Lock and Key."

A WOMAN is like to—but stay—

What a Woman is like, who can say?

There's no living with or without one—

Love bites like a fly,

Now an ear, now an eye,

Buz, buz, always buzzing about one.

When she's tender and kind,

She is like, to my mind,

(And Fanay was so, I remember)

She is like to—Oh dear!

She's as good very near

As a ripe melting peach in September.

If the laugh, and she chat,

Play, joke, and all that,

And with [...] and good humor she meet me,

She is like a rich dish,

Of ven'son or fish,

That cries out from the table, come eat me!

But she'll plague you, and vex you,

Distract and perplex you,

False hearted and ranging,

Unsettled and changing.

What then do you think she is like?

Like a sand? like a rock?

Like a wheel? like a clock?

Aye, a clock that is always at strike.

Her head's like the Isl [...]nd folks tell on,

Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on;

Her heart's like a lemon—so nice

She carves for each lover a slice;

In truth, she's to me,

Like the wind, like the sea,

[Page] Whose raging will hearken to no man;

Like a mill,

Like a pill,

Like a flail,

Like a whale,

Like an ass,

Like a glass.

Whose image is constant to no man;

Like a flow'r,

Like a show'r,

Like a fly,

Like a pie,

Like a pea,

Like a flea,

Like a witch,

Like the itch,

Like a thief,

Like—in brief,

She's like nothing on earth—but a Woman.

EDWARD AND KITTY.

NED oft had brav'd the field of battle,

Had oft endur'd the hardest woe;

Had been where deep-mouth'd cannons rattle,

And oft been captur'd by the foe;

His heart was kind, to fear a stranger,

His country's glory was his pride;

He nobly scorn'd to shrink from danger,

And on a bed of honor dy'd.

For, says Ned, what e'er befalls,

A Freeman scorns to flinch or whine,

He'll cheerful go where duty calls,

And brave all ills but ne'er repine.

[Page] Ned lov'd sincere his charming Kitty.

She saw with tears her soldier go;

She pray'd kind heav'n to led her pity,

And shield her Edward from the foe:

My love, he cry'd, thy grief give over,

Those tears disgrace a soldier's bride:

But hapless Kitty lost her lover,

Who on a bed of honor dy'd.

For, says Ned, &c.

O PITY A MAIDEN.

YE youths wheresoever ye wander so free,

I pray give attention and listen to me,

For truly my case is distressing and hard,

If none of your sex will my counsel regard:

If you wish for a wife,

To be happy for life,

Here's one that will sell you a heart for a heart;

Come, come, prithee buy,

Or else I shall die,

O pity a maiden and pray take her part,

An, do—ah do—

O pity a maiden, and pray take her part.

Full seventeen summers have now roll'd along,

And still I'm unmarried—a little too long!

But, since I have waited the time I have said,

I'll tell you the husband I now wish to wed:

Good sense I must find,

In the youth to my mind,

[Page] Not a fop or a coxcomb can e'er touch my heart;

No, no—he must be

Good temper'd and free—

O pity a maiden, and pray take her part.

An, do—ah do, &c.

Should you turn in your minds now a virgin's advice

I charge you, ye bachelors con't be too ni [...];

Tho' for virtue, and so forth, I may stand the [...]est,

O, you'll find me no more than a woman [...]!

Indeed it is true,

So mind what you do,

Ere you dare for the temple of Hymen to start;

But should you incline

Hand and heart to entwine,

O pity a maiden, and pray take her part.

Ah, do—ah, do, &c.

PADDY O'BRIAN.
Sung in the Opera of "Widow and No Widow."

WHEN first I was kitten'd, it was in Kilkenny,

Such a brat sure as me, oh! there never was any;

Nay, the truth is, my father suspected my mother,

For the dible a bit was I like one or t'other.

Sing rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Paddy O'Brian.

Sing rub a-dub, &c.

To be sure I'm by nature as tame as a lion;

Och! the world never saw such a Paddy O'Brian.

That my father was kind and my mother was tender,

By my shoul I've more reasons than one to remember;

[Page] For to sharpen my stomach, and brighten my wit, sir,

Sure they left me to live upon what I could get, sir,

Och! rub-a-dub, &c.

Och! my daddy's a god, and my mammy's a lion:

Ay, and I am the devil, old Paddy O'Brian.

That my parents were give to living genteely,

By my shoul is no lie, so I tell you it freely,

That if one daddy dies I have Hill g [...] [...]other,

And so I'm the bastard of one or the t'other.

Och! rub-a-dub, &c.

To be sure and my mother was rather a sly one,

When she got such a chicken as Paddy O'Brian.

MIND, HUSSEY, WHAT YOU DO

WHEN I was of a tender age,

And in my youthful prime,

My mother oft wou'd in a rage,

Cry, girl take care in time;

For you are now so forward grown,

The men will you pursue—

And all the day this was her tone,

Mind, hussey, what you do!

Regardless of her fond advice,

I hasten'd o'er the plain,

Where I was courted in a trice

By each young sylvan swain;

Yet, by the bye, I must declare,

I virtue had in view,

Altho' my mother cry'd beware,

Mind, hussey, what you do!

[Page]

To Damon, gayest of the green,

I gave my youthful hand,

His blooming face and comely mein

I could not well withstand;

But strait to church we tript away,

With hearts both firm and true,

And then my mother ceas'd to say,

Mind, hussey, what you do!

Ye lasses all attend to me,

And hence this lesson learn,

When to your mind a man you see,

Ne'er look morose or stern;

But take him with a free good will,

Should he have love for you.

Altho' your mother's crying still

Mind, hussey, what you do!

THE DRUNKEN COBLER.

SO, safe arriv'd at last; thanks to a strong brain and a good understanding;—yes, pox, on to dogs! they thought to have mastered me by plying this leathern throat of mine with as much liquor, as though I had been an Alderman at a city feast; but honest Crispin of Cripplegate bit 'em, and came away with his budget full, and as sober as ever I'd wish to be. Betty, Betty, bring me a pot of half and half, but be sure don't mix it.—Let's see, what have we got here? —Confound the backs of these chairs! they're always behind.—Hum—what a d—mn'd [Page]candle's this, one can hardly extinguish the Argus from the Daily Advertiser only by its crowing:—Hah! (reading) ‘Commercial Advertiser —It is said that the Doctor Banks and Mr Sal-a-man-der, will, by command of her majesty, undertake a voyage round,—hum— the bum dress of the present month,’ ah! and ‘orders are received at the victualing-office accordingly, for thirty-six months provisions.’ ‘—Hum—we hear from Calisle, that as a great personage was going in his carriage to Windsor, he fell asleep with the candle burning in his hand, and set fire to the bed clothes:’—Aye, that might happen through the carelessness of the driver. So, ‘Whitehaven,—Yesterday arrived from Philadelphia, with dispatches on board— the most violent storm of thunder and lightning ever remembered:’ Pshaw! that's nothing but a bam upon the ministry. ‘Yesterday morning about three o'clock this afternoon, a fire broke out in an empty house, and entirely consumated all the furniture; an elderly middle aged woman, coming by at the same time, fell into a cinder-sieve and was drowned. Saturday morning about four o'clock in the afternoon, a woman was committed to Bridewell, for barbarously scraping her bastard child to death with oyster shells;’ first murder of the kind I ever heard of.— ‘Domestic news. August the 34th.—Yesterday a woman was safely delivered of a fine boy with a wooden leg.’ Oh! this is all d—d lies, this can never be true. (Lights his pipe)—I went to see a friend of mine [...]'other day; he's a coachman in a gentleman's family, [Page]and he asked me to go to the play with him: Plays, s [...]ys I, why what play is it? "Why, (says he) tis King Hamlet and the Prince of Dunkirk." King Hamlet and the Prince of Dunkirk, says I, that can never be; for I have got all the Roman emperors [...] up in my closet, and I am sure there's none of their names begins with H, enless it is Titus Vasnpasion.—So presently the cock and coachman got quarrelling about who had travelled farthest; and in the midst of the scuffle the cook tumbled the coachman into the dripping p [...]n; now, says the coachman I may swear I have travelled farthed, for I have travelled into Greece; indeed so he had for he was d—'d greasy.

I have three as fine children as any man would wish to stick a knife into: There's my son Tommy, he is a fine scholar; he writes two exceeding fine hands, one he cannot read himself, and the other nobody can read for him. Now there is my daughter Polly, she lives with an old parson; she was so d—n'd cunning t'other day, as to mend the parson's black stockings with white worsted; so that the poor parson was forced to hop to church like a magpye.—Why, Betty, Betty, this son of a whore of a maid goes up stairs forty times in a day, and never comes down again.— But it's all one to Crispin,—let the world go as it will I can divert myself with an old song.

Tol de rol lol, &c.

THE END.

TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS.

[Page]

A speedy exportation of all the enemies of America without a draw b [...]ck.

Perpetual disappointments to the enemies of American Liberty.

Our Country; [...]y it ever prove an asylum to the oppressed of all nations.

May mirth and wisdom always go hand in hand.

May the blossoms of friendship never be nipped in the bad.

May the tide of fortune float us into the harbor of content.

May love and reason be friends, and beauty and prudence marry.

May the sons of Freedom increase and multiply.

Success to every real Patriot, who thinks and speaks only for the good of his country.

May those who would enslave others become slaves themselves.

May the wings of Liberty never want a feather.

May the devil ride rough shod and hard over the rascally part of the creation.

May we never swear a tradesman out of his due, nor a credulous girl out of her virtue.

May beauty never be stitched in sheets until properly bound.

May the man who wantonly endeavors to plunge his county in war be placed in the front of the battle.

Kisses to those who mean not to hurt by them.

CONTENTS.

[Page]

ASK if you damask rose is sweet 9

Ah! dear Margella! maid divine 15

As thro the grove I chanc'd to stray 16

As cross the fields the other morn 36

Across the downs this morning 62

A woman is like to—but stay 71

Believe my sighs, my tears, my dear 10

By a cool fountain's flow'ry side 17

By my matches, ve maids, I have matches for all 24

[...]old jack, the sailor, here I come 41

Come, rouse from your trances 4

Can love be controul'd by advice 11

Come, pretty Poll, from tears refrain 29

Can you to battle march away 37

Come buy of poor Mary, primroses I sell 56

Come cheer up my countrymen 51

Come listen awhile and I'll sing you a ditty 67

Dear Chloe, come give me sweet kisses 11

Declare my pretty maid 12

Dear mada [...] when ladies are willing 21

Dapper [...]t-tat-too is my natty name 30

Fair Kitty, beautiful and young 13

From College I came 14

From sweet bewitching tricks of love 20

For our country when with fav'ring gale 40

Fill high the animating giass 58

Four-and-twenty fidlers all in a row 60

God lave the Rights of Man 55

[Page] Hark! hark! the jay-inspiring horn 3

Hail Columbia! happy laud 32

In pursuit of some lambs from my flocks 18

I'm in love w [...]h twenty 23

I'm jolly Dick the lamplighter 25

J [...]it at the close of summer's day 30

Let the gay ones and great 5

Let heroes delight in the toils of the war 10

Little does the townswife know 38

Loud thund'ring cannons rend the air 50

No woman her envy can smother 8

Ned oft had brav'd the field of battle 72

Of woman to tell you my mind 9

On Ric [...]ond Hill there lives a lass 35

O dear! what can the matter be 42

On Afric's wide plains where lions now roaring 46

O'er b [...]ren hills and flow'ry dales 57

O dearly do I love to rove 63

Our country is our ship, d'ye see 70

Rise, Patriot Sons, the more app [...] 63

Sound, sound the brisk horn 6

Sir Solomon Simous, when he did wed 27

See the course throng'd with gazeis 43

Spanking Jack was so comely 48

Sand to your guns my hearts of oak 59

The early horn salutes the morn 4

The sweet rosy morning 6

The dusky night rides down the sky 7

Tho' women 'tis true are but tender 19

The topsail shiver in the wind 19

Tho' I'm a very little lad 45

The trumpet of Liberty sounds thro the world 54

This morning Aurora peep'd over the hills 65

[Page] The [...]aneful lav'rocks cheer the grove 69

The Drunken Cobler 76

When Plac [...]da's b [...]ies appear 13

When first I [...]ought sau Cel [...]'s love 21

Why don't you know me by my fears 26

When I was at home I was merry and frisky 39

Was has still is melody 39

When I've money I am merry 45

When whi [...]ling winds are beard to blow 64

When I was a ch [...], just g [...] into my teens 66

When first I was kitten'd, it was in Kilkenny 74

When I was of a tender age 75

You may say what you will, but Belinda's too tall 22

Young Mog arriv'd at woman's growth 34

Ye youths wheresoever ye wander so free 73

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The Jovial songster: containing a variety of patriotic and humorous songs.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2011-05.

ID [DLPS]

N37023

ID [TCP]

N37023

ID [STC]

Shipton 48491

ID [NOTIS]

APW5227

ID [IMAGE-SET]

48491

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99011327

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 48491.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N37023)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 48491)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 48491)

Source

— The Jovial songster: containing a variety of patriotic and humorous songs., The fourth edition, with additions. (Copy right secured.) [Four lines of verse].

Extent

82, [2] p. : ill. ; 17 cm. (12mo)

Printed and sold by John Harrisson, no. 3 Peck-Slip.,. --New-York-- :: 1798.. (Parentheses substituted for square brackets in edition statement.) (Bookseller's advertisement, p. [2].)

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