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Where first we met, where first we lov’d,

And I confessed me thine.
'Tis there I'll fly to meet thee still,

At the sound of vesper bell ;
In the starry light of the summer night,

On the banks of the blue Moselle.

If the cares of life should shade my brow,

Yes, yes, in our native bowers ; My lute and harp might best accord,

To tell of happier hours ;
'Tis there I'd soothe thy grief to rest,

Each sight of sorrow quell ;
In the starry light of the summer night,

On the banks of the blue Moselle.


I GIVE thee all, I can no more,

Though poor the off ’ring be ;
My heart and lute are all the store,

That I can bring to thee :
A lute whose gentle song reveals

The soul of love full well,
And better far a heart who feels

Much more than lute can tell.

Tho' love and song may fail, alas !

To keep life's clouds away,
At least 'twill make them lighter pass,

Or gild them if they stay ;
If ever care his discord flings,

O'er life's enchanted strain,
Let love but gently touch the strings-
"Twill all be sweet again.

I give thee all, &c. THE MAID OF LLANGOLLEN. Tao' lowly my lot and poor my estate, I see without envy the wealthy and great, Contented and proud a poor shepherd to be, While the maid of Llangollen smiles sweetly on me. My way o'er the mountain I cheerfully take, At morn, when the song-birds their melody wake, At eve I return with a heart full of glee, For the maid of Llangollen smiles sweetly on me. Glenarvon's rich lord passes scornfully by, But wealth canna mak' him sae happy as I, And prouder than ever the proudest I'll be, While the maid of Llangollen smiles sweetly on me.


The rose will cease to blow,

The eagle turn a dove.
The stream will cease to flow,
Ere I will cease to love.

Ere I will cease to love, &c.
The sun will cease to shine,

The world will cease to move.
The stars their light resign,
Ere I will cease to love.

Ere I will cease to love, &c.

WHEN A MAN'S A LITTLE BIT POORLY. WHEN a man's a little bit poorly,

He makes a fuss,

Wants a nurse,
Thinks he's going to die most surely,

Sends for a doctor, who makes him worse.

I only caught a bit of a cold;

My wife did make

Me gruel take, Cuddles me up between kindness and scold, And with her own hands my pillow did shake

When a man, &c. I three days with fever was furnac'd.

Balmy sleep,

To me 'd not creep,
Obliged to send for the doctor in earnest ;

Hopes of recovery faintly peep,
He with long and serious face,

Pronounc'd me ill,

Sent bolus-pill-
Draught-powder-and all the race
Of drugs compound, to make a long bill.

When a man, &c. Leechd-cupp'd-bled--and blister,

Slips and slops,

Eating tops,
So low each pill was a twister ;

I swallow'd about three doctor's shops, ;
Countenance turn'd a cadaverous tint;

A bitter pill,

Grew weaker still,
Thro' the nurse had a bit of a hint,
Should'nt die sooner for making my will.

When a man, &c. Worse and worse was my condition,

My body's sore,

Life's a bore,
The doctor call'd in a physician,

Who physic'd and bolus'd me ten times more. Relations round with sighs and tears

Each nephew-niece

Disturb my peace,
Even my wife chang'd hopes for fears,
Fervently wished

me a happy release.
When a man,


Then physician's consultation,

They view my face,

Hopeless case
Pronounc'd with much deliberation,

That I, alas ! had run my race.
Skeleton like my bones

peep through,
My eyes I fix,

I hear death ticks,
To wife and friends I bade adieu,
Expecting with Charon to cross the styx.

When a man, &c.
Wishing to leave the world in quiet,

Of drugs and such,

I had too much,
So I took a meal of my usual diet.

Got better, and 'scaped from death's cold clutch.
Physic since to the dogs I throw,

Happy and gay,

I pass each day;
And when I am summon'd where all must go,
I'm determined to die in the natural way.

When a man, &c.


If any so wise is, that sack he despises,

Let him drink his small beer and be sober; Whilst we drink wine, and sing as if it were spring,

He shall droop like the trees in October. But be sure, over night, if this dog do you bite,

You take it henceforth for a warning, Soon as out of your bed, to settle your head,

Take a hair of his tail in the morning. And not be so silly, to follow old Lilly!

For there's nothing but wine that can tune us ; Let his Ne assuescas be put in his cape-case,

And sing bibito vinum jejunus.

DRINKING SONG. COME now all ye social powers,

Shed your influence o'er us ; Crown with joy the present hours,

Enliven those before us : Bring the flask, the music bring,

Joy shall quickly find us ; Sport and dance, and laugh, and sing,

And cast dull care behind us. Love, thy godhead I adore,

Source of generous passion ; Nor will we ever bow before Those idols, Wealth and Fashion.

Bring the flask, &c. Why the plague should we be sad,

Whilst on earth we moulder ? Rich or poor, or grave or mad, We every day grow older.

Bring the flask, &c. Friendship! O thy smile's divine !

Bright in all its features ; What but friendship, love, and wine, Can make us happy creatures ?

Bring the flask, &c.
Since the time will pass away,

Spite of all our sorrow,
Let's be blithe and gay to-day,
And never mind to-morrow.

Bring the flask &c.


CARE, thou canker of our joys,

No the tyrant's reign is oe'r ;

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