(reave me, To fields where cannons rair, thou need na grieve (thee; For deep in my spirit thy fweets are indented, N. O Jonny I'm jealous, whene'er ye discover My fentiments yielding, ye'll turn a loose rover; 7. My Nelly, let never fic fancies oppress ye, For while my blood's warm I'll kindly caress ye, N. Then Jonny, I frankly this minute allow ye (ye; Reave Reave me, reave me, heav'ns! it wad reave me 7. Bid icefhogles hammer red goads on the ftuddy, (thee. L OVE, thou airy vain illusion, Sly deceiver of my joys, All thy arts are but delufion, Whilst vain hope my heart decoys. But, charmer, I ftill adore; Ne'er teaze me, but ease me, Love's paffion fhall please me, Whilft I your aid implore. A s A s tipling John was jogging on, Upon the riot night; With tottering pace, and fiery face, Sufpicious of high flight: The guards, who took John by his look, For fome chief firebrand, Ask'd, whence he came, what was his name; I'm going home, from meeting come: John thought 'twas time to purge the crime, And faid, 'twas his intent For to affuage his thirsty rage; 'Twas the meeting that he meant. Come, friend, be plain, you trifle in vain, Says one, pray let us know, That we may find how you're inclin'd, To end debates and ftrife, All I can fay, this is the way, VOL. III. M I I ne'er to Bow, nor Burgess go, To steeple-house, or hall; The brisk bar bell beft fuits my zeal, Now judge, am I low church, or high, From the tavern or the steeple, Whofe merry toll exalts the foul, The guards came on, and look'd at John So, while John stood, the best he cou'd, Damn him, fays one, let him be gone, The Dyer of Roan. To the Tune of old SIMON the King. 'N good king Lewis's land, IN In a city of high degree; And a very good dyer was he: In vain had he fought to discover To bring all the matter to light, The horses were brought to the door, |