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Through groves of palm

Sigh gales of balm,
Fire-tlies on the air are wheeling;

While through the gloom

Comes soft perfume,
The distant beds of flowers revealing.

O wake and live !

No dream can give
A shadow'd bliss, the real excelling ;

No longer sleep,

From lattice peep,
And list the tale that Love is telling.

OUR COUNTRY IS OUR SHIP, D'YE SEE.

Our country is our ship, d'ye see,

A gallant vessel too,
And of his fortune proud is he,

Who's of the Albion'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.

Among ourselves, in peace, 'tis true,

We quarrel, make a route,
And having nothing else to do,

We fairly scold it out:
But once the enemy's in view,
Shake hands, we soon are friends.

On the deck,

Till a wreck
Each the common cause defends.

TASTE! OH TASTE.
TASTE, oh taste, this spicy wine,

Drain the sparkling cup I pray ;
Does your heart in sadness pine ?

Drink and sadness clears away.
Now may nimble troops of pleasure,

Seal your hours, in morrice light
Deck the day with fancy's treasure,

Bless your dreams and crown the night.

FLOWING HAIR:
TIME has not thinn'd my flowing hair,

Nor bent me with his iron hand;
Ah! why so soon the blossom tear,

Ere Autumn yet the fruit demand.
Let me enjoy the cheerful day,

Till many a year has o'er me rollid;
Pleas'd, let me trifle life away,

And sing of love till I grow old.

O! LIFE IS LIKE A SUMMER FLOWER.

O! LIFE is like a summer flower,

Blooming but to wither;
O love is like an April hour-

Tears and smiles together.
And hope is but a vapour light,

The lover's worst deceiver ;
Before him now it dances bright,

And now 'tis gone for ever.
O joy is but a passing ray,

Lovers' hearts beguiling:
A gleam that cheers a winter's day,

Just a moment smiling.

But tho' in hopeless dark despair,

The thread of life may sever, Yet while it beats, dear maid, I swear

My heart is thine for ever.

BRUCE'S ADDRESS.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled!
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led!
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victory!
Now's the day, and now's the hour !
See the front of battle low'r !
See approach proud Edward's pow'r !

Edward ! chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor knave ?
Wha can fill a coward's grave ?
Wha sae base as be a slave ?

Traitor ! coward! turn and flee. Wha for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw ; Freeman stand, or freeman fa'

Caledonian! on wi' me !

By Oppression's woes and pains !
By your sons in servile chains :
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be, shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!

Forward ! let us do, or die!

GENERAL WOLFE'S SONG.

How stands the glass around ?
For shame! ye take no care, boys.

How stands the glass around
Let mirth and wine abound ;

The trumpets sound,
The colours they are flying, boys;

To fight, kill, or wound,

May we still be found
Content, with our hard fare, my boys,

On the cold ground.

Why, soldiers, why
Should we be melancholy, boys ?

Why, soldiers, why?
Whose business 'tis to die.

What, sighing ? fie !
Drink on, and let's be jolly, boys,

'Tis he, you, and I,

Cold, hot, wet, or dry,
We're always bound to follow, boys,

And scorn to fly.

'Tis but in vain,
(I meant not to upbraid you, boys,)

'Tis but in vain
For soldiers to complain ;

Should next campaign
Send us to Him that made us, boys,

We're free from pain;

But should we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady

Cures all again.

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THE BEGGAR,
A BEGGAR I am, and of low degree,
For I'm come of a begging family ;

I'm lame, but when in a fighting bout,
I whip off my leg and I fight it out.
In running I leave the beadle behind,
And a lass I can see, tho' alas ! I'm blind ;
Thro’ town and village I gaily jog
My music, the bell of my little dog.

I'm clothed in rags,
I’m hung with bags,
That round me wags ;
I've a bag for my salt,
A bag for my malt,

A bag for the leg of a goose:
For my oats a bag,
For my groats a bag,

And a bottle to hold my boose.
It's now Heaven bless you for your charity,
And then push the can about, fol de rol de ree.
In begging a farthing I'm poor and old,
In spending a noble I'm stout and bold;
When a brave full company

see, It's “my noble masters your charity !”— But when a traveller I meet alone, “Stand and deliver, or I'll knock you down !" All day for a wandering mumper pass, All night-oh! a barn, a buxom lass.

I'm clothed in rags, &c.

ADIEU, MY NATIVE LAND, ADIEU.
ADIEU, my native land, adieu !

The vessel spreads her swelling sails ;
Perhaps I never more may view

Your fertile fields, your flowery dales. Delusive hope can charm no more,

Far from the faithless maid I roam ; Unfriended seek some foreign shore, Unpitied leave my peaceful home.

Adieu, my native, &c.

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