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Oh dear! Oh dear!
Scoff’d by young urchins, who, jeering go by,
Because I'm not more than four feet high.
Day after day, I my shortness deplore,

With grief my poor heart is quite full ;
I can't reach a knocker, or knock at a door,

Nor one single bell can I pull;
Yet from this I get consolation a bit,

And sentiments speak of all small men ;
I know very well we're only fit
To be waited upon by the tall men

Oh dear! Oh dear!
Hapless misfortune-I feel it—that I,
Should never be taller than four feet liigh.
There's one very pleasing reflection to me,
(To own it I cannot refuse ;)


person contented I'd be,
If the ladies I can but amuse :
And should any fair one, I vow on my life,

Take pity on me and my song,
I'll purchase the licence-make her my wife,
And marry, though short, before long.

Oh dear! Oh dear!
To make her quite happy I'm sure I would try,
Although I'm not taller than four feet high.

With my


I KNEW by the noise that I heard all around

In the street where I was, that a row it was near; And I said, “ if there's fun this good night to be found,

As I love it so dearly, I shall sure find it here." Every tongue seem'd employd,and the row did increase, Whilst the Charleys their rattles so cheerily spring.

I hopp'd into the crowd, the news for to catch,

But scarcely had open'd my mouth to inquire, When a rascally thief made off with my watch,

Tript my heels, and so laid me flat down in the mire.
The watchmen surrounded, and me bore away,
And in limbo was kept till the dawn of next day.
To the justice they took me, to tell my sad tale,

Who ask'd me what in defence I'd to say,
I told him that rogues in the crowd did assail,

Used my person quite ill, and my watch bore away. He looking quite grim, bade me good hours keep, Pay a shilling---return to my home with all speed.


ONE Paddy O’Lynn courted Widdy M‘Kay,
He bold as a lion, she fresh as the day;
Now to win her, he knew he the widdy must plaise,
So he thought the best thing he could do was to taze.
Now Paddy be aisy, you devil, she'd cry,
And she'd smack Paddy's chops, while she'd look at
him sly;

[affairs, “Lave your tricks and your nonsense, and mind your Through your tickling I know I'll be tumbling up

stairs !" 'My honey,” says Paddy, “that, some folks do say, Is a sign that you'll soon know your own wedding day ; And it's pleased that I am--sure to say so’s no sin, Since 'tis all for good luck," says Paddy O’Lynn. “Arrah, now!" says she, “Pat, don't think of the like, For I didn't say no to your fat cousin Mike, The sole of my shoe he loves, though it arn't whole:” Says Paddy, “I'd rather love you than your soul.” “Now Paddy, l'll squeal, and I'll punch your fool's head

[bed ;" Sure I'm dreaming each night, I've your cousin in For

Says Paddy, “That same I am glad that you say,
For drames always go quite the contrary way ;
So widdy kape draming that same till you die,
When you drame Mike's in bed, why, you'll find it is I!
And it's plased that I am, sure to say so's no sin,
For 'tis all for good luck,” says sly Paddy O’Lynn.
“Arrah! widdy, my darling, you've plagued me enough,
And sure then 'tis time that you left off such stuff,

sake I've been fighting, and broken my head,
And I think after this, it is time we were wed.”
Then Paddy so sly, threw his arms round her waist,
And his lips put to her's, of their sweetness to taste ;
And he look'd in her eyes that were sparkling so bright,
And he hugg'd her swałe form-faith, then, sure he

did right. “Now Paddy, be quiet, to take you I'm loath, Sure, I've now had two husbands, and done for them both;"

[I'll win, " Then have me for the third, and p'rhaps this time For the third time is different,” says Paddy O'Lynn.


Oh, yes, dear love, so tenderly,

So blindly I adore thee,
Dominion, wealth, fame, victory

Fade, worthless, all before thee.
Though other beauties swell my train,

With languid eyes I view them ;
All former joys have fled-in vain

I study to renew them.
Time was the charms of pomp and power,

Ambition's thirst, would seize me;
Time was, the battle's thrilling hour,

And victory's wreaths could please me.

But, oh! dear love so tenderly

So blindly I adore thee ;
Dominion, wealth, fame, victory,

Fade, worthless, now before thee.

Howl not, ye winds, o'er the tomb of the brave ;

Roar not, ye waves, at the foot of the mountain ; Breathe, Spirit of peace, oh! breathe o’er each grave ;

And soft be the flow of each murmuring fountain. Let the valiant who fell in defence of their land,

Repose in the quiet they died in defending ; And dear be the spot that beheld their bold band

To death, but to honour, in glory descending. Oh! theirs is the rest who repose 'neath the sod That nourished the arm which preserved it in dan

ger' ; And theirs is the hope to repose with their God,

That ages renew in the prayer of the stranger.


CONTENTED I sit with my pint and my pipe,

Puffing sorrow and care far away,
And surely the brow of grief nothing can wipe

Like smoking and moist’ning our clay ;
For, though liquor can banish man's reason afar,

'Tis only a fool or a sot, Who with reason or sense would be ever at war,

And don't know when enough he has got ; For, though at my simile many may joke, Man is but a pipe—and his life but smoke.

Yes, a man and a pipe are much nearer a-kin

Than has as yet been understood,
For, until with breath they are both filled within,

Pray tell me for what are they good ?
They, one and the other, composed are of clay,

And, if rightly I tell nature's plan,
Take but the breath from them both quite away,

The pipe dies—and so does the man:
For, though at my simile many may joke,
Man is but a pipe—and his life but smoke.
Thus I'm told by my pipe that to die is man's lot,

And, sooner or later, he must;
For, when to the end of life's journey he's got,

Like a pipe that's smoked out—he is dust :

who would wish in your hearts to be gay, Encourage not strife, care, or sorrow, Make much of your pipe of tobacco to day,

For you may be smoked out to-morrow : For, though at my simile many may joke, Man is but a pipe-and his life but smoke.


Hey the bonnie, ho the bonnie,
Hey the bonnie breast-knots ;
Blythe and merry were they a'

When they put on the breast-knots.
There was a bridal in this town,
And till’t the lasses a' were boun',
Wi' mankie facing on their gown,

And some o' them had breast-knots ;
Singing, hey the bonnie, ho the bonnie,
Hey the bonnie breast-knots ;
Blythe and merry were they a',
When they put on the breast-knots.


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