He makes heroes quit their glory, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Sly the urchin deals his darts, Without pity piercing hearts: Cupid triumphs over paffions, Not regarding modes or fashions, Firmly fix'd is Cupid's law. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. You may doubt these things are true; Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. SONG CCLXIV. LOVE IN LOW LIFE. YOUNG court dhe train debonair OUNG Jockey he courted fweet Maggy so fair; They hugg'd, and they cuddled, and talk'd with their eyes, And look'd, as all lovers do, wonderful wife. A fortnight was spent 'ere dear Maggy came too; They pannell'd their dobbins, and rode to the fair, They ftaid there a week, as the neighbours all fay; And none was fo happy and gamesome as they : Then home they return'd, but return'd most unkind; For Jockey rode on, and left Maggy behind. Surpris'd at this treatment, fhe cry'd, Gaffer Jock, Pray what is the reason that Maggy you mock'd; Quoth he, Goofe, come on! why you now are my bride; And when volk are wed, they fet fooling afide. He took home his Maggy good conduct to learn, Who brush'd up the house, while he thatch'd the old barn: They laid in a stock for the cares that ensue, And now live as man and wife ufually do. HE wand'ring failor plows the main, THE A competence in life to gain, Undaunted braves the ftormy feas, To find at last content and ease. In hopes, when toil and danger's o'er, To anchor on his native fhore. In hopes, &c. When winds blow hard, and mountains roll, And thunder shakes from pole to pole, When round the bowl the jovial crew, The early fcenes of youth renew, This is their universal toaft: May we, when toil and danger's o'er, May we, &c. SONG CCLXVI. SPARKLING CHAMPAIGNE. Sung by Mrs Lowe at Marybone Gardens. YE all foulike Υ E dull thinking fouls, who by troubles are preft, That are ftrangers alike both to joy and to rest, Adhere to my maxims, I'll teach you the way To be ever contented, good-humour'd, and gay; Than a bumper of claret, or sparkling champaigne ; Than a bumper of claret, or sparkling, &c. Ye lovers, who live by the fmiles of the fair, In a bumper of claret, or sparkling champaigne ; In a bumper of claret, &c. When the hufband is jealous, or dull, or unkind, Let his fpoufe give him this, and fhe'll fpeedily find, His mind 'twill enliven, his care 'twill remove, And awake in his bofom the tranfports of love; At a change fo inviting, what wife can repine? From bleffings, the virtue of sparkling champaigne ; Of sparkling champaigne, From bleffings, the virtue, &c. SONG CCLXVII. BLITHE SANDY. By Mr Hawkins. M Y Sandy is the sweetest swain He tends his fheep on verdant plain, For, oh! he is fo blithe a lad, Whene'er he's nigh, my heart is glad, As on a moffy bank we fat, The youth he charm'd me with his chat, For, oh! he is so blithe, &c. He calls me his dear life and care, For, oh! he is fo blithe, &c. I Sung by Mrs Wrighten at Vauxhall. lee; Winna marry ony man but Sandy o'er the lee; I winna marry ony man but Sandy o'er the I winna ha'e the dominie, for geud he canna be; But I will ha'e my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er For he's aye a kiffing, kiffing, kiffing, aye a kiffing me, He's aye a kiffing, kiffing, kiffing, aye a kiffing the lee: me. I winna ha'e the minifter, for a' his godly looks, Nor yet will I the lawyer ha'e, for a' his wily crooks; I winna ha'e the plowman lad, nor yet will I the miller, But I will ha'e my Sandy lad, without a penny filler. For he's aye a kiffing, &c. I winna ha'e the fodger lad, for he gangs to the war, I winna ha'e the failor lad, because he fmells o' tar; I winna ha'e the Lord nor Laird, for a' their meikle gear, But I will ha'e my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er the meir; For he's aye a kiffing, &c. By Mr Richardfon. Tune,-Banks of the Dec. ON N Teefe' fweet banks I fat with my Molly, The fun to old ocean was flowly defcending, ing, And carelessly gazing on Molly and me. The innocent milk maid was tripping fo neatly, The daify, the pink, and the vi'let fweet blooming, Poffeft of my Molly, falfe fortune defying, |