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The morn was fair, and fresh the breeze,

When anchor weigh'd and blithe the crew, We scudded cheerly o'er the seas.

And bade the distant shores adieu. As on we sail'd, some flying squalls

Along the western welkin rose ; "Turn up, my lads,' the boatswain calls,

For now the wind a tempest blows. The top-sails dous’d the squall flew past,

Our vessel righted on her keel : Again the sails ascend the mast,

Again we hope and transport feel ! But soon were hope and transport lost,

Again the weather scud came o'er. Against the rocks our vessel toss'd,

And stranded on our native shore.


I saw her at the fancy fair,

Where youth and beauty joyful metThe loveliest of the lovely there,

Ne'er shall I that girl forget--that girl forget. No one can pass her coolly by :

Fairer than all she was, yet meekHeaven was in her diamond eye,

And roses crimson'd o'er her cheek,

And roses crimson'd o'er her cheek. To nature's gayest scenes she lent

A sweet, a soul-enchanted spell; At home, abroad, where'er she went, How lov'd, how courted, none can tell-none, none

can tell

Mid dazzling splendour there arrayed,
She urg'd

the sacred claims of woe, As gracefully her tresses play'd

O'er neck that mock'd the mountain snow,
O'er neck-o'er neck that mock'd the mountain



'Twas on a windy night,

At two o'clock in the morning,
An Irish lad so tight,

All wind and weather scorning,
At Judy Callaghan's door,

Sitting upon the palings,
His love tale he did poor,
And this was part of his wailings

Only say

You'll have Mr. Brallaghan,
Don't say nay,

Charming Judy Callaghan.
O list to what I say,

Charms you've got like Venus,
Own your love you may,

There's only the wall between us.
You lay fast asleep,

Snug in bed and snoring,
Round the house I creep,
Your hard heart imploring.

Only say, &c.
I've got nine pigs and a sow,

I've got a sty to sleep 'em ;
A calf and a brindled cow,

And got a cabin to keep em.

Sunday hose and coat,

An old grey mare to ride on,
Saddle and bridle to boot,
Which you may ride astride on.

Only say,

&c. I've got an old Tom cat,

Through one eye he's staring ; I've got a Sunday hat,

Little the worse for wearing ;
I've got some gooseberry wine,

The trees had got no riper on,
I've got a fiddle fine,
Which only wants a piper on,

Only say, &c.
I ve got an acre of ground,

I've got it set with pratees ; I've got of backey a pound,

And got some tea for the ladies.
I've got the ring to wed,

Some whisky to make us gaily ;
The mattress, feather-bed,
And handsome new shillelah.

Only say, &c.
You've got a charming eye,

You've got some spelling and reading, You've got, and so have I,

A taste for genteel breeding. You're rich, and fair, and young,

As every body's knowing ; You've got a decent tongue, Whene'er 'tis set a-going.

Only say, &c. For a wife till death

I am willing to take youBut, och, I waste my breath,

The deyil himself can't wake you.

'Tis just beginning to rain,

So I'll get under cover ;
I'll come to-morrow again,
And be your constant lover.

Only say, &c.


Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,

Or like a fairy trip upon the green ;, Or like a nymph, with bright and flowing hair,

Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen.


O my love has got a red red nose,

long to see it soon,

love is like the mulberry, All cover'd o'er with bloom.

O my

As fond as thou my bonny lass,

Of full-proof gin am I;
For I will drink with thee, my dear,

And drain the bottle dry.
I'll drain the bottle dry, my dear,

We'll sing and dance for fun;
And if you wish for more, my dear,

Why for it I will run.
But I must cut my stick, my love,

And hop the twig ashore ;
And we'll get drunk again, my dear,

A thousand times or more.


Ro'v thy bark, my gallant lover,

Pensive o'er the rippling sea ;
And while the moonlight gathers round thee,

Sadly sighing think of me.
'Neath the tulip trees to meet thee,

Ne'er again thy love shall come,
Where soft echo's voice responding,

Tuneful mocks the Tartar drum. Bending o'er my gallant vessel,

Thee alone shall I behold, Like a spirit in the sun-beams,

Borne along o'n waves of gold. At the rustic dance of evening

Never more thy love shall come: Where the mirthful cymbals greeting,

Joyous sounds the Tartar drum.


PERHAPS you all have heard of a yarn,

Of a famous large sea-snake,
That once was seen off the Isle Pitcairn,

And caught by Admiral Blake.
Now list not what land lubbers tell,

But give an ear to me ; And I'll tell you what me befell, 'Cause I'm just come from sea.

Tol lol, &c. This snake he measured miles twice two,

But there they surely lied ;
For I was one of the very ship's crew

By whom its length was tried.

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