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He makes heroes quit their glory,
He's the god most fam'd in story;
Bending them into his law.

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;
But they're facts 'twixt me and you:
Then ye men and maids be wary
How ye meet before you marry.
Cupid's will is folely law.

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;
For maidens a decency keep when they woo:
At length fhe confented, and made him a vow,
And Jockey he gave, for her jointure, his cow.

They pannell'd their dobbins, and rode to the fair,
Still kiffing and fondling until they came there:
They call'd on the Parfon, and by him were wed,
And Maggy she took her dear Jockey to bed.

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.

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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 dreadful waves furrounding foam,
Still flatt'ring fancy wafts him home;
In hopes, when toil, &c.

When round the bowl the jovial crew,

The early fcenes of youth renew,
Tho' each his fav'rite fair will boast,

This is their universal toaft:

May we, when toil and danger's o'er,
Caft anchor on our native fhore.

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;
No remedy's furer to drive away pain,

Than a bumper of claret, or sparkling champaigne ;
Or fparkling champaigne ;

Than a bumper of claret, or sparkling, &c.

Ye lovers, who live by the fmiles of the fair,
Whom a frown from your mistress can drive to despair,
Should the chance to prove peevish, ill natur'd, or fhy,
Why, leave her alone, and ne'er flatter or figh;
Defpife all her arts, and forget her difdain

In a bumper of claret, or sparkling champaigne ;
Or fparkling 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
That ever pip'd on Tay;

He tends his fheep on verdant plain,
And chears me all the day:

For, oh! he is fo blithe a lad,
A blither canna be,

Whene'er he's nigh, my heart is glad,
For dearly he loves me.

As on a moffy bank we fat,
Beneath a fragrant fhade,

The youth he charm'd me with his chat,
And on his bagpipes play'd:

For, oh! he is so blithe, &c.

He calls me his dear life and care,
And his own Maggy too;
He vows, by all that's good and fair,
To me he will prove true:

For, oh! he is fo blithe, &c.

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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.

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By Mr Richardfon. Tune,-Banks of the Dec.

ON

N Teefe' fweet banks I fat with my Molly,
So chearful, fo charming, fo frolic and free;
Away, gloomy care, faid I, hence melancholy,
Nor think of attending on Molly and me.

The fun to old ocean was flowly defcending,
The fhepherd his flocks on the wild heath attending,
The plowman, sweet whistling, his way homeward bend-

ing,

And carelessly gazing on Molly and me.

The innocent milk maid was tripping fo neatly,
And calling her kine o'er the fweet-fcented lee;
The thrush and the black-bird were finging full sweetly,
And chanting their carrols to Molly and me.

The daify, the pink, and the vi'let fweet blooming,
The hawthorn and woodbine the thicket perfuming,
Sweet Philomel fadly her wild notes refuming,
Bleft scene of retirement for Molly and me.

Poffeft of my Molly, falfe fortune defying,
From forrow, from care, and anxiety free;
The darts of old Time o'er our heads widely flying,
What pair are so happy as Molly and me?

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