I've been roaming, I've been roaming,
Over hill and over plain,

And I'm coming, and I'm coming,

To my bower back again.

I've been roaming, &c.

THE STEAM CIGAR.

A SONG I'll sing-a reg'lar joker-
Of a man-a terrible smoker-

He smoked away from night till morn,
'Tis said he smoked as soon as born.

Ri too ral, &c.

He tried Havannah-Cuba too-
He tried tobacco-none would do--
To please him none of them did seem,
So he had a cigar to smoke by steam.

Ri too ral, &c.

He lit his cigar, and he puff'd the smoke
With such force that it a window broke,
And then the heat, it was so strong,
He burnt the folks as he walk'd along.

Ri too ral, &c.

It burnt away to his heart's desire,
Some people thought the world on fire-
And if he went out when it chanced to rain,
His lighted cigar dried it up again.

Ri too ral, &c.

When into a room his nose he pokes,
They all cry out, "the chimney smokes!"
And then his cigar makes such a smell,
That people declares it's just like

Ri too ral, &c.

"Tis said in London, and this is no joke-
'Tis him that makes us in such a smoke-
When of a night he's seen from afar,
He's taken by all for the evening star.
Ri too ral, &c.

One day, when on the Monument top,
Folks thought him a comet just going to drop;
And some saw from afar the sight,

And thought it was the heavens alight.
Ri too ral, &c.

He smoked away to his heart's desire,
Till death appear'd and quench'd his fire;
He put out his cigar for a bit of a lark,
And then at once extinguish'd the spark.
Ri too ral, &c.

If after all you still will doubt and fear me,
And think this heart to other loves will stray,
If I must swear then lovely doubter hear me,
By all those dreams I have when thou'rt away;
By every throb I feel when thou art near me—
I love but thee-I love but thee.

By those dark eyes where light is ever playing,
Where love in depth of shadow holds his throne,
And by those lips which give whate'er thou'rt saying,
Or grave or gay, a music of its own;

A music far beyond all minstrel's playing,

I love but thee-I love but thee.

By that fair brow where innocence reposes,
Pure as the moonlight sleeping upon snow,
And by that cheek whose fleeting blush discloses,
A hue too bright to bless this world below;
And only fit to dwell on Eden's roses.

I love but thee-I love but thee.

THO' I LEAVE THEE NOW IN SORROW.

THOUGH I leave thee now in sorrow,
Smiles might light our love to-morrow,
Doomed to part, my faithful heart,
A gleam of joy from hope shall borrow;
Ah! ne'er forget when friends are near,
That heart is thine for ever:

Thou may'st find those will love thee dear,
But not a love like mine, O never!

Though I leave thee now, &c.

IF I had a donkey wot wouldn't go,
D'ye think I'd wollop him ?-no, no, no ;
But gentle means I'd try, d'ye see,

Because I hate all cruelty:

If all had been like me, in fact,

There'd ha' been no occasion for Martin's Act,
Dumb animals to prevent getting crack'd
On the head.

For if I had a donkey wot wouldn't go,
I never would wollop him-no, no, no;
I'd give him some hay, and cry, Gee O!
And come up, Neddy.

greens,

What makes me mention this, this morn
I seed that cruel chap, Bill Burn,
Whilst he was out a crying his
His donkey wollop with all his means;
He hit him over his head and thighs,
He brought the tears up in his eyes,
At last my blood began to rise,

And I said

If I had a donkey, &c.

Then next to London I set out,

To reap the hay and corn, Sir,
To leave old Ireland far behind,
The place where I was born, Sir.
With my shillimah coo,
And my heart so true,

Oh! Billy O'Rouke's the boy, Sir.
I paid the captain six thirteens,
To carry me over to Pargate;
Before we got half over the waves,
It blew at a hell of a hard rate :
The great big stick that grew out of the ship,
Began to roar and whistle,

And the sailors all both great and small,
Cries, Pat, you will go to the devil.
With my, &c.

Some fell on their bended knees,
The ladies fell a fainting;
But I fell to my bread and cheese,
For I always mind the main thing.
Says the sailors, To the bottom you go,
Says I, We don't care a farthing,

For I paid my passage to Pargate you know,
And be damn'd but you'll stick to your bargain.
With my, &c.

The wind did whistle some to sleep,
Till we got to the place of landing,
And those that were the most afraid
Were out the ladies handing.

Says I, Your clothes feel mighty droll,

You surely must have riches,

And for your heart it don't lay in the right part, It surely must lay in your breeches.

With my, &c.

Then for London I set out,
And going along the road, Sir,
I met with an honest gentleman,
Who prov'd to be a rogue, Sir;

He cock'd a pistol to my breast,

Close to my very mouth, Sir,

Saying, Paddy my boy, I'd have ye be smart,
In handing out your money, Sir.
With my, &c.

O, have you patience, honest gentleman,
And hear me speak a word, Sir,
For twopence is all the money I've got,
To carry me many a mile, Sir.

He said he would no longer wait,
His patience I had fairly tir'd;

His

pan it flash'd, his brains I smash'd, With my shillalah that never miss'd fire. With my, &c.

WHEN LAID ON A MOTHER'S FOND BREAST.

WHEN laid on a mother's fond breast,

That bosom the fount of my life,

That bosom my pillow of rest,

Her song of affection is rife:

Dost thou smile in thy dreams, my poor child?
Then wake not to look on pale sorrow,

Nor of infancy's joys be beguil'd,

By the woes that may reach thee to-morrow.

When sunshine my eye-lids unclos'd,
And smil'd at the radiant sky,
My knees she devoutly compos'd,
And my little hands lifted on high;

Dear baby, a Father lives there,

Who from infancy's heart chases sorrow,

Who hearing a mother's fond pray'r,

May grant thee a joyful to-morrow.