My darters all take arter her,
In grace and figure easy;

They larns to sing, and as they're fat,
I has 'em taught by Grisi!

They calls, &c.

Ve dines at four, and arter that

I smokes a mild Awanna,
Or gives a lesson to the lad ́
Upon the grand pianna.
Or vith the gals vaĺk a quodrille,
Or takes a cup of cof-ee;
Or if I feels fatig'd or ill,
I lounges on the sophy!

They calls, &c.

Or arter dinner read a page
Of Valter Scott or Byron-
Or Mr. Shikspur, on the stage,
Subjects none can tire on.
At night ve toddles to the play,
But not to gallery attic,
Drury Lane's the time o' day,
And quite aristocratic.

They calls, &c.

I means to buy my eldest son
A commission in the Lancers,
And make my darters every one,
Accomplish'd Hopra dancers.
Great sculptors all conwarse wi' me,
And call my taste diwine, sirs;
King George's statty at King's Cross
Was built from my design, sirs!

They calls, &c.

And ven I'm made a member on,
For that I means to try, sirs;

Mr. Gully fought his vay,

And vherefore shouldn't I, sirs?

Yet vhen I sits in Parli'ment,
In old Sin Stephen's College,
I means to take, 'tis my intent,
The "taxes off o' knowledge."
They calls me Adam Bell, 'tis true,
'Cause Adam was the fust man-
I'm sure it's wery plain to you,
I'm a literary dustman!

AND are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to talk o' wark?
Mak haste, set by your wheel!
Is this a time to talk o' wark,
When Colin's at the door?
Gie me my cloak, I'll to the quay,
And see him come ashore.

Rise

For there's nae luck about the house,

There's nae luck ava;

There's little pleasure in the house,
When our gudeman's awa.

up and mak a clean fireside, Put on the meikle pot;

Gie little Kate her cotton gown,
And Jock his Sunday's coat:

And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw;

It's a' to please my ain gudeman,

For he's been lang awa.

For there's nae luck, &c.

There are twa hens upon the bauk, They've fed this month and mair; Mak haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare:

And spread the table neat and clean,
Gar ilka thing look braw;
It's a' for love o' my gudeman

For he's been lang awa.

For there's nae luck, &c.

O gie me down my bigonets,
My bishop-satin gown;

For I maun tell the Bailie's wife,
That Colin's come to town:

My Sunday shoon they maun gae on,
My hose o' pearl blue,

It's a' to please my ain gudeman,

For he's baith leal and true.

For there's nae luck, &c.

2

Sae true's his word, sae smooth's his speech,
His breath's like caller air,
His very foot has music in't,

When he comes up the stair.

And will I see his face again?
And will I hear him speak?

I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought;
In troth, I'm like to greet.

For there's nae luck, &c.

The cauld blasts o' the winter wind,
That thrill'd thro' my heart,
They're a' blawn by, I have him safe,
Till death we'll never part:

But what pits parting in my head;
It may be far awa;

The present moment is our ain,

The neist we never saw.

For there's nae luck, &c.

Since Colin's weel, I'm weel content,

I hae na mair to crave;

Could I but live to mak him blest,

I'm blest aboon the lave;

And will I see his face again?

And will I hear him speak?

I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought;
In troth, I'm like to greet.

For there's nae luck, &c.

IN MY COTTAGE NEAR A WOOD.

IN my cottage near a wood,

Love and Rosa now are mine;

Rosa, ever fair and good,

Charm me with those smiles of thine

Rosa, partner of my life,

Thee alone my heart shall prize;
Thou the tender friend and wife,
Ah! too swift life's current flies.

Linger yet, ye moments stay,
Why so rapid is your wing?
Whither would ye haste away?
Stay and hear my Rosa sing.
Love and you still bless my cot,
Fortune's frowns are for our good;

May we live by pride forgot,

In our cottage near a wood.

WHEN a very little boy,

They sent me first to school,

My master said, though least of all

I was the biggest fool.

Such a genius I did grow.

They tried with cakes and cunning

To put learning in my head;

But I ne'er could tell which was great A.
Or which was crooked Zed.

Such a genius, &c.

Arithmetic it puzzl'd me;

But as my knowledge grew,
I soon found out that one and one,
When added up, made two.

Such a genius, &c.

A great musician I became,
And, as the people said,
Upon the grinding organ
Most delightfully I play'd.

Such a genius, &c.

Upon my travels I set out,

The English folks to see,

And I found that they had arms and legs,

And head and all, like me.

Such a genius, &c.

The Lord Mayor and the Aldermen
My absence did require-

They sent me home, for fear that I
Should set the Thames on fire.

Such a geuius, &c.

wwwwwwww

BELIEVE ME TRUE.

O YES, believe, believe me true,

Though falsehood's tongue our loves would sever, The world must change ere I from you,

And every pulse be cold for ever.