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When sure,

At length, the old folk fast asleep,
I ran, my promised word to keep,

his absence to denote,
He on the window-shutter wrote,

* Remember, love, remember.'
And did I need a hint so sweet?

O, no! for, mark the warning,
Which said, at church we were to meet,

By ten o'clock next morning.
And there we met, no more to part,
To twine together, hand and heart,
And since that day, in wedlock joined,
The window-shutter brings to mind,

Remember, love, remember.'

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OH, SAW YE THE LASS WI' THE BONNY

BLUE E'EN? OH, saw ye the lass wi' the bonny blue e'en ? Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen, Her cheek like the rose is but fresher I we'en, She's the lovliest dancer that ever was seen. The home of my love is below in the valley, Where sweet flow'rs welcome the wand'ring being ; But the sweetest of flowers that bloom in the valley, Is the lass that I love wi' the bonny blue e'en.

Oh, saw ye the lass, &c. When night overshadows' her cot in the glen, She steals out to meet her love Donald again ; And when the moon shines in the valley so green, He'll welcome the lass wi’ the bonny blue e'en.

Oh, saw ye the lass, &c, As the fond dove that wanders away from its nest, Returns to the mate that his heart loves the best, So I'll leave the wide world's false and vanishing scene, And I'll fly to the lass wi' the bonny blue e'en.

Oh, saw ye the lass, &c.

TELL ME, WHERE IS FANCY BRED ?

TELL me, where is fancy bred ?
Or in the heart, or in the head ;
How begot, how nourished ?
Is it engendered in the eyes ?
With gazing fed ? and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy's knell,
I'll begin it—Ding, dong, bell.

Ding, dong, bell.

SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.

WILLIE Wastle dwelt on Tweed,

The spot they ca'd it Linkum-doddie ; Willie was a wabster guid,

Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony body: He had a wife was dour and din,

O Tinkler Maggie was her mither ; Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her, She has an ee, she has but ane,

The cat has twa the very colour ;
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,

A clapper tongue wad deave a miller ;
A whiskin beard about her mou-
Her nose and chin they threaten ither ;

Sic a wife, &
She's bow-hough'd, she's hein-shind,

Ae limpin leg a hand-braid shorter ;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,

To balance fair in ilka quarter :
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o' that upon her shouther ;

Sic a wife, &c.

Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,

An' wi’ her loof her face a'washin; But Willie's wife is na sae trig

She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion ; Her walie nieves like midden creels,

Her face wad fyle the Logan Water ; Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.

WHILE PENSIVE.

WHILE pensive I thought on my love,

The moon on the mountain was bright; And Philomel, down in the grove,

Broke sweetly the silence of night. 0, I wish'd that the dear drop would flow!

But I felt too much anguish to weep, Till, worn by the weight of my woe,

I sunk on my pillow to sleep.
Methought that my love, as I lay,

His ringlets all clotted with gore,
In the paleness of death seem'd to say,

“ Alas! we must never meet more. Yes, yes, my belov'd we must part ;

The steel of my rival was true ;
The assassin has struck on that heart,

Which beat with such fervour for you.”

WHERE AS GASLIGHTS BRIGHTLY

BURNING.
WHERE as gaslights brightly burning

O'er the gin shop bar, Sal,
The glass with thy fat fingers turning-

Will you meet me there, Sal?

Where the gin is rapid flying,

Where, when you're drunk you're nearly dying, I alone around you sighingWilt thou meet me there, Sal ?

Where as gaslights, &c.

Then strong ale we will be lushing

From a brilliant pot, Sal ;
Sweet as East end maiden's blushing

Then come and meet me there, Sal! Then a song you shall be singing,

With your voice the house be ringing,
And my earnings I'll be bringing,
If you'll meet me there, Sal.

Where as gaslights, &c.

THE GIRLS WE LEFT BEHIND US.

You ask me the life of a Tar,

That's toss'd up and down on the ocean,
Why know, that in peace, or in war,

Of danger we have not a notion :
Yes, yes, my dear it is true,
With such we have nothing to do ;

For we sing as we go,

With a yoe yea, yea yoe,
And drink to the girls we left behind us.
When landsmen preach up, as they do,

And say this and that of the Navy ;
Why, tell them, e're fear brings us to,

We'll grapple with Death and old Davy ;
Yes, yes-and, dear Jack, this impart,
The worth of a Tar is his heart-

For we sing as we go, &c.

Tis sweet, when the battle is o'er

To say that a Tar's done his duty: Yet sweeter to think, when on shore,

He'll meet with a welcome from beauty: Yes, yes—and, dear Jack, may a Tar E'er meet with a smile from the fair ;

For we sing as we go, &c.

THE TIRED SOLDIER.

The tired soldier, bold and brave,

Now rests his weary feet ;
And to the shelter of the grave

Has made a safe retreat.
To him the trumpet's piercing breath

To arms shall call in vain ;
Ned's quartered in the arms of death

He'll never march again.
A boy he left his father's home,

The chance of war to try,
O'er regions yet untrod to roam,

No friend or brother nigh;
Yet still he'd march contented on,

'Midst danger, death, and pain ; But now he'll halt, his toil is done,

He'll never march again.
The sweets of spring by beauty's hand

Lie scatter'd o'er his bier ;
His comrades as they silent stand,

Give honest Ned a tear;
And lovely Kate, poor Ned's delight,

Chief-mourner of the train,
Cried, as she view'd the dreadful sight,

He'll never march again.

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