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To wed me, Dolly waits, d'ye mind,

So to her I will cry outFor she loves me, and love is blind*Oh!—There you go with your eye out.'

Ri tooral loo, &c.

CANST THOU LOVE ME MARY ? Canst thou love me, Mary?

Wilt thou love me, ry?
Didst thou love me, Mary?

Blest I'd be !
Nae greater gift can Heav'n bestow,

Thou art sae dear to me.
Canst thou love me, Mary, &c.
Thou hast stown my heart, O Mary dear,

With thy bewitching e'e, And tho' å lowly cottage maid, Thou’rt a' the world to me!

Canst thou love me, &c. When first the moon peeps o'er the hill,

This night O steal to me,
And by two dazzling stars, thy e’en,
I swear I'll wedded be.

Canst thou love &c.



MRS. Fanny, you may chatter,

And toss up your head so high ; That a pin I do not matter,

You're no better, faith, than I ;
You may frown and you may spurn, too,

Talk about gentility ;
Yes, and up your nose may turn too,

That is all my eye to me.

Sweethearts I can have, as pretty

As yourself, that's clear enough, Susan, Polly, Jane, and Kitty,

So you needn't look so bluff ; Margaret for me is dying,

Bouncing Bet would married be, Don't you think for you I'm crying,

That is all my eye to me. Let me tell you Mrs. Fanny,

Soon your pride will fall to dirt, I would sooner have my granny,

Than I'd marry such a flirt ; You may seek again to shake me,

With your smiles decked out you see If you do the devil take me,

You are all my eye to me.

NOBODY COMES TO MARRY ME. Last night the dogs did bark,

I went to the gate to see, When ev'ry lass had her spark

But nobody comes to me. And its oh! dear what will become of me?

Oh ! dear what shall I do?
Nobody coming to marry me,

Nobody coming to woo.
My father's an hedger and ditcher,

My mother does nothing but spin ;
And I am a pretty young

girl, But the money comes slowly in.

And its oh! dear, &c.
They say I am beauteous and fair,

They say I am scornful and proud ;
Alas! I must now despair,
For, ah! I am grown very old,

And its oh! dear, &c.

And now I must die an old maid :

Oh! dear, how shocking the thought ! And all my beauty must fade, But I'm sure it is not my fault.

And its oh! dear, &c.


Young Jemmy's ganging after me,

The live-long day and night ;
And always kissing too is he,

When Father's out of sight ;
But dinna, lad, be teazing so,

For this I'll tell you true,
If thou art ever pleasing so,

What can a lassie do?
He shanna mair be pressing me,

Its muckle truth, I vow ;
Nor shall he be caressing me,

As sure be did just now ;
And so I'll tell him when we meet

I winna hear his lo'e ;
For when a laddie is so sweet,

What can a lassie do?
I wonder where the youth can be

Ah! whither can he stray?
But that is surely nought to me,

So let him keep away ;
For shou'd he tell his wily tale,

And want to buckle to,
I really think he would prevail....
What can a lassie do?

(Ah! what indeed !)
What can a lassie do?

THE tear that pearled my Clara's cheek,

And dewed the rose of beauty,
In glist’ning rapture seemed to speak,

How high it priz'd the duty ;
And, ere the drop dissolved away,

From where it clung so dearly,
The matchless maid was heard to say,

She loved, and loved sincerely.
The blush that crimsoned Clara's face,

Her every look adorning,
Gave softening sweetness to each grace

Like sun-tints of the morning!
But sweeter to the trembling heart,

That beats for her so dearly,
To hear my Clara's tongue impart-

She loved, and loved sincerely.


THE streamlet that flow'd round her cot,

All the charms of my Emily knew ; How oft has its course been forgot,

While it paus'd her dear image to view. Believe me, the fond silver tide,

Knew from whence it deriv'd its fair prize ; For, silently swelling with pride,

It reflected her back to the skies.

SEE the rosy morn, appearing,

Paints with gold the chimney tops,
Housemaids now for work preparing,
Gaily twirl their snow-white mops.


Watchmen their last hour proclaiming,

Totter homewards half asleep,
Whilst the milkmaids, loudly screaming,

Sing duets with soot ho ! sweep !

Eliza was the loveliest maid

That e'er was caught in Falsehood's snare ;
A modest blush her cheeks array'd,

And Virtue stampt her image there:
No damsel of the Sylvan scene,

With her in beauty could compare,
And every shepherd round the green,

Declar'd her fairest of the fair.
A baron's son of high degree,

(Beneath whose smile did Falsehood dwell) The Fair Eliza chanc'd to see,

And love he counterfeited well.
As oft they stray'd along the yale,

He vow'd from her he ne'er would part ;
She listen'd to his faithless tale,

And gave him all her virgin heart.
But soon the hapless maiden found

Her ruin 'twas alone he sought ;
Oh ! then she sank upon the ground,

In all the agony of thought.
The roses fled her dimpled cheek,

Loud to the passing winds she sigh’d,
Heart-broken, but resign'd and meek

With grief the fair Eliza died.

PADDY O'NEAL. Ye sons of Hibernia, who snug on dry land, Round a sparkling turf fire, with whisky in hand,

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