Oh! cruel vas the engagement, in which my true love fought, And cruel vas the cannon-ball that knocked his right eye out; He used to leer and ogle me, with peepers full of fun, But now he looks askew at me, because he's only one. Too rol, too rol, &c. My love he plays the fiddle well, and vanders up and down, And I follows at his helbow through all the streets in town; We spends our days in harmony, and wery seldom fights, Except when he's his grog aboard, or I gets queer at nights. Too rol, too rol, &c. Now, ladies, all take varning, by my true love and me, Though cruel fate should cross you, remember constancy. Like me, you'll be revarded, and have all your heart's delight, With fiddling in the morning, and a drop of max at O, WHERE IS MY LOVER? O, WHERE is my lover, so fickle and frail! Those dew-sprinkled branches by nature must fade, But affection once plighted to man, or to maid, UMBRELLA COURTSHIP. A BELLE and beau would walking go, Tol ol ol. It so occurred, as they did walk, Quick flew the shelter over Miss ; Tol ol ol. He thought this was the time to kiss, Tol ol ol. Now Simon, when he smok'd the plan, He grew quite bold, talk'd like a man, Says she, "These are but lovers' crimes; Tol ol ol. He kiss'd her out of her consent, They parted, but he took much pains Tol ol ol. The wedding morn, no time to waste, And just as if to please her taste, They married were, had children dear, But strange to state, the whole of the eight, Tol ol ol. THE MERRY HORN CALLS US AWAY. IN Britain, the soil which true liberty yields, Gives Echo the song, She, blithely returns it the whole of the day, By exercise braced, every bosom must warm, THE GIRL OF MY HEART. How sweet is the breeze at eve's modest hour, When the black bird and thrush so enchantingly pour When slowly adown from the warm glowing west When all passions but love are hush'd into rest, My Anne is gentle, is loving, and kind; I resign all the trifles that others delight, Her eyes, that so languidly speak soft desire, In my bosom the softest emotions inspire, And when her sweet accents enraptur'd I hear, Thro' my soul they so thrillingly dart, Oh! what sounds of sweet melody strike my 'rapt ear, When I meet the girl of my heart! FORGET ME NOT. FORGET me not-forget me not, But let these little simple flowers Remind thee of his lonely lot Who lov'd thee in life's purest hours: When hearts and hopes were hallowed things, Then, oh! when shivered all its strings, We met, ere yet the words had come And in the first warm blush of youth; Whose tears are doom'd to be forgot! Forget me not-forget me not! Thine eye must watch these flow'rets fade, But oh! when flowers and friends lie dead, The shadowy scenes of hoarded thought, Forget me not-forget me not! DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU'RE OUT. I AM the laughing-stock of all, No rest nor peace have I ; The young, the old, the great and small, All at me have a shy. I thinks it wery, wery hard, And so vould you, no doubt, If they cried vhene'er you valk'd abroad, My station is respectable, There's nothing about me The cry is "Ho! my precious svell, Does your mother know you're out ?" |