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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 con
stancy. Like me, you'll be revarded, and have all your heart's
delight, With fiddling in the morning, and a drop of max at night.
Too rol, too rol, &c.
O, WHERE IS MY LOVER?
He'vow'd he'd be constant to me;
Oft whisper'd near yonder lov'd tree.
Those blossoms will soon wither'd be ;
Should prove firm as the root of a tree.
A BELLE and beau would walking go,
In love they both were piping ;
An April sun was shining.
He knew he'd acted wrong in
Tololol. It so occurred, as they did walk,
And viewed each dale so flow'ry, As Simon by her side did stalk,
Declared the sky looked show'ry ; The rain came to her like a drug,
When loudly he did bellow, “Look here, my love, we can be snug, I've brought an umbrella.”
Tol ol ol. Quick flew the shelter over Miss ;
Now Simon was a droll one,
So from her lips he stole one.
Th’ umbrella closed for draining ;
Tol ol ol. Now Simon, when he smok'd the plan,
The umbrella righted ;
And she seem'd quite delighted.
Like simple lovers training,
Tol ol ol, He kiss'd her out of her consent,
That she'd become his bride; hence
And then to get the license.
Where they should meet to tell her,
Tol ol ol.
The wedding morn, no time to waste,
He arose before 'twas yet day ;
It was a shocking wet day.
had children dear,
THE MERRY HORN CALLS US AWAY.
In Britain, the soil which true liberty yields,
Who dashing along,
Gives Echo the song, She, blithely returns it the whole of the day, With, hark! the merry horn calls us away. By exercise braced, every bosom must warm, And health, joy, and mirth, each assume a new charm; Dian, Bacchus, and Venus, by turns, take a place, And day and night's
joys are the fruits of the chase ! Which, dashing along, Give Echo the song, &c.
THE GIRL OF MY HEART. How sweet is the breeze at eve's modest hour,
When it murmurs yon lime trees among,
Their melodious sweetness of song !
The bright sun is seen to depart,
I fly to the girl of my heart.
Her bosom true sympathy warms;
Each possesses a portion of charms ;
Who uses no coquettish art,
And fly to the girl of my heart.
Her cheeks that so rival the rose,
And charm my fond heart to repose;.
Thro' my soul they so thrillingly dart,
When I meet the girl of my heart !
FORGET ME NOT.
But let these little simple flowers
Who lov'd thee in life's purest hours:
Ere Gladness broke the lyre she brought ;
Forget me not-forget me not!
We met, ere yet the words had come
To wither up the springs of youth ;
And in the first warm blush of youth ;
Whose tears are doom'd to be forgot !
Forget me not--forget me not !
Thy soul its idols melt away ;
Love can embalm them in decay:
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 ;
All at me have a shy.
And so vould you, no doubt,
“Does your mother know you're out ?'
There's nothing about me
Of the apeing wain cockney.
But as I rides about,
Does your mother know you're out ?"