As on the pebbly beach I stray'd, A storm arose, the waves ran high, The billows loud did roar. O! merry row, &c. I'D BE A BUTTERFLY. I'D be a butterfly born in a bower, And kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet. I'd be a butterfly born in a bower, And kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet. Oh! could I pilfer the wand of a Fairy, I'd be a butterfly, sportive and airy, Rock'd in a rose where the nightingale sings. I'd be a butterfly, &c. What though you tell me each gay little rover, Shrinks from the breath of the first autumn day, Surely 'tis better when summer is over, To die when all fair things are fading away: Some in life's winter may toil to discover Dying when fair things are fading away. I'd be a butterfly, &c. MAY WE NE'ER WANT A FRIEND, NOR A BOTTLE TO GIVE HIM. SINCE the first dawn of reason that beam'd on my mind, And taught me how favoured by fortune my lot, To share that good fortune, I still was inclined, And impart, to who wanted, what I wanted not. 'Tis a maxim entitled to ev'ry one's praise, When a man feels distress, like a man to relieve him, And my motto, tho' simple, means more than it says, "May we ne'er want a friend, nor a bottle to give him." The heart by deceit or ingratitude rent, Or by poverty bow'd, tho' of evils the least, The smiles of a friend may invite to content, And we all know content is an excellent feast; 'Tis a maxim, &c. THE MINSTREL BOY. THE minstrel boy to the war is gone, The minstrel fell, but the foeman's chains, Thy songs were made for the pure and free, THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. A HERMIT that dwells in these solitudes cross'd me, No rest but the grave for the pilgrim of love. COME WHERE THE ASPENS QUIVER. COME where the aspens quiver Down by the flowing river: Bring your guitar, bring your guitar, Sing me the songs I love. Sing me of fame and glory, Sing of the poor maid's story, When her true love did leave her. Call'd to the holy war. Come where the aspens, &c. Come to the wild rose bower, Bring your guitar, bring your guitar; Sing me of false hopes blighted, Sing me of fond love slighted; Sing of the dewy flower, Sing of the ev❜ning star. Come where, &c. BLACK-EYED SUSAN. ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, Rocked by the billows to and fro, The cord flies swiftly through his glowing hands, And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. O Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall always true remain. Let me kiss off that falling tear, We only part to meet again; Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. Believe not what the landsmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind, They tell thee sailors, when away, In every port a mistress find; Yes, yes, believe them when they tell you so, The boatswain gave the dreadful word, They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head. MURPHY'S WEATHER EYE. MURPHY hath a weather eye, He can tell whene'er he pleases, If it will be wet or dry, When 'twill thaw, and when it freezes. To the stars he has been up, Higher than the Alps' high summits, With her, the planets and the comets. He can tell whene'er he pleases, When 'twill thaw, and when it freezes. Murphy hath an Almanack, From which we every day may gather,He has such a happy knack, What will really be the weather: Hold the rains, have hail at pleasure,Get in the sun when he's a mind, And blow a cloud when he's at leisure, He knows how to raise the wind. Murphy hath a weather eye, &c. Murphy can the world eclipse, Can light the sun if he should fail, Sir,At Venus nightly lick his lips, And pull the great bear by the tail, Sir. |