To wed me, Dolly waits, d'ye mind, For she loves me, and love is blind- CANST THOU LOVE ME MARY? CANST thou love me, Mary? Wilt thou love me, Mary? Nae greater gift can Heav'n bestow, Canst thou love me, Mary, &c. Thou hast stown my heart, O Mary dear, With thy bewitching e'e, And tho' a 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 me, &c. YOU ARE ALL MY EYE TO ME. 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 Bouncing Bet would married be, 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? Nobody coming to marry me, My father's an hedger and ditcher, And I am a pretty young girl, But the money comes slowly in. They say I am beauteous and fair, For, ah! I am grown very old, And its oh! dear, &c. And now I must die an old maid: But I'm sure it is not my fault. And its oh! dear, &c. WHAT CAN A LASSIE DO? YOUNG Jemmy's ganging after me, He shanna mair be pressing me, I wonder where the youth can be I really think he would prevail. (Ah! what indeed!) SHE LOVED, AND LOVED SINCERELY. THE tear that pearled my Clara's cheek, The blush that crimsoned Clara's face, Gave softening sweetness to each grace THE STREAMLET. THE streamlet that flow'd round her cot, While it paus'd her dear image to view. 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. SEE the rosy morn, appearing, Watchmen their last hour proclaiming, Whilst the milkmaids, loudly screaming, ELIZA. 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, 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 vale, He vow'd from her he ne'er would part; She listen'd to his faithless tale, And gave him all her virgin heart. Loud to the passing winds she sigh'd, PADDY O'NEAL. YE sons of Hibernia, who snug on dry land, Round a sparkling turf fire, with whisky in hand, |