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Bring her to me, gentle ocean,
Behold, deny'd their airy flight,

PAGE

77 99

C.

8

22 26

Come from horror's dreary cell
Come gie's a fang, the lady ery'd,
Come, sailors, be filling the cani,
Could I, could I, once discover,
Court me not to scenes of pleasure,
Come, dearest fifter, why all this passion,

64 81

D.

Despair around my head
Dear is my little native vale,
Dark was the night, and cold the wind,
Dear Clora, let's love while in soft, &c.
Deuce take whining,
Depriv'd of thee, 'twere only woe,

28

38

E.

Examinc the world with attention,

97

F.

From night till morn I take my glafs,
Fill the goblet high with wine,
· Fools may say that I'm a Treat,
From sweet Tipperary, &c.
From love, each sweeteft bliss beltowing,
Fell war, the spear and tented field,
For England, when, with fav'ring gale,

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10

Goddess of liberty, my faul infpine,
Give me (you) a female soft and kind,

Girls shy appear

39 106

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7 37 45

How charming's a camp, &c.
Hark! sound the trumpet, &c.
How
my

heart will fiak within me,
How
my

tender heart would tremble,
Here quickly, quickly, strike the strings,
Hark, forward's the word, &c.
How poor are words, &c.

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I, & J.
ift o'my funky and spin at my wheil,
If your lovers, maids, forsake you,
If wives in the market were to be fold,
If you can, Sir, pray produce
vil fly from the Thames to the Liffy,
I'll tell you what, botli great and small,
I care not who knows it, &c.
In the breast of the lover what transports arise,
Jein your hands,
If you'd travel the wide world. all'over,
I've seen the gentle Columbine,
I fretted roofs, and untold ore,
I have look'd into life, and with truth I can say,
In Freedom I'd live, &c.
Jocky met with Jenny fair,

:59 61 69. 74. 7939 ibid. 80* 102 199

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PAOL

Ladies, would you know what magic
Love thro'all iny bosom rushing,
Lover's who listen to reafon's persuafion,

44 75

114

M.

My Rose is sure the sweetest lass,
Meck, mournful nightingale, &c.
Mortal, mortal, mortal man!
My father Pan, when I was born,
Mark

you
what

pow's this wand endue ? My name's Tippy, Bob,

34 57 68 72 76

77*

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O! see that form that faintly gleams,
O dearly do I love to rove
O'er barren hills and flow'ry days,
O, Time's a false friend, &c.
Odds my life! I'm a great Magicián,
Oh, what can match the pleasure
Oft as on Thames's banks I stray,
Oh, when the liquor I do quaff
Oh, let me in those ringlets fray
Oh, with my dearest Ciara blett
One night, while round the fire we sat,

19 33 41 55 57 60 63 70 71 104 107

P.

10

Poor Carlos sued a beauteous maid,
Peaceful flumb’ring on the occan,

114 Scarcely

S.

PAGE

12

Scarcely had the blushing morning
See ruddy Aurora begins to appear,
See May'approaches crown’d with flow'rs,
Sure girls are to be pitied;
Sulky pride, dare not here venture,

27 29

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Tears that exhale from the springs, &c.
There the moon-silver'd, &c.
To Old St. Kath'rine's now adieug:
Those ruby lips, that radiant eye, ,
Tis
courage

charms all womankind,
The
morning

dew that wets the rose,
The shades of ev’ning now descending,
To relief my fond complaining,
The heroes stout, who dangers scorn,
Tho'

gay your trees, &c.
The shipwreck'd tar, on billows toss’d,
Thro' France, thro' all the German, &c.
The sea-worn Tar, who in the war,

65 73 82 99 100

102

103 111

U.

Unwonted transport fills my breaft,

83

W.

Whene'er she bade me cease to plead,
Where the banners of glory are ftreaming
Why turns my Jen her head

away, With my jug in one hand, &c.

A 3

9 16

18 When

TAGE

26

When summer smiling bids the hills
When gentle Love firal fir'd my breaft,
What matters, Tom, to where we're bound
When placid night diffuses o'er the plain
When o'er the earth, &c.
Why dares the eagle bend his flight,
When oue's drunk, &c.
When the toil of day is o'er, &c.
When I get to town in the spring,
When hapless woman finks in woe,
When true affection fills the heart,
When I had scarcely told sixteen,
Would

yo!
known how

you

must find it? When the trumpet of fame calls to honour and

arms,
When a happy single fellow,
Woman is a match for him,
When first on the plain, &c.
While fond thoughts l’in thus careling,
When the lads and the lasses, &c.
Were old Galen to rise,
When night's dark maritle, &c.

32 35

47 ibid.

49 51 52 53 54 59 61 68 82* 74 75 77

83

98

100

107

Y.

Young Teddy is an Irish lad,
You think to talk of this and that,
Yes, is the word I love the best,
You that join our nightly trade,
You may tatk of a brogare of Ireland's sweet nation,
Ye sportsmen for pleasure and exercise born,
Ye crystal fountains, softly flow,

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