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And I who wait,
On this cold, cold slate,
For if you look shy,
Faith it's all in my eye,
TUNE,- Humours o’Glen.' DEAR Doctor be clever, and fling off your beaves
Come, bleed me, and blister me, do not be slow, I'm sick, I'm exhausted, my schemes they are blasted,
And all driven heels-o'er-head, Doctor Monroe.' • Be patient, dear fellow, you foster your fever;
Pray, what's the misfortune that bothers you so!' 60, doctor! I'm ruined! I'm ruined for ever!
My lass has forsaken me, Doctor Monroe.'
The sweets, the enjoyments, in wedlock that flow; But she's ta’en another, and broken my measures,
And fairly confounded me Doctor Monroe.'
I'll master your malady ere that I go;
And give some attention to Doctor Monroe.' • If Christy had wed you, she would have misled you, And laughed at your love with some handsome young
beau; Her conduct will prove it; but how would you love it?'
I soon would have lamed her, dear Doctor Mon
• Each year brings a pretty young son or a daughter;
Perhaps you're the father, but how shall we know? You hug them-her gallant is bursting with laughter'
• That thought's like to murder me, Doctor Monroe.' • The boys cost you many a penny and shilling;
You breed them with pleasure, with trouble and wo; But one turns a rake, and another a villain,'
My heart could not bear it, dear Doctor Monroe.' The lasses are comely, and dear to your bosom;
But virtue and beauty has many a foe! 0, think what may happen; just nipt in their blossom!'
• Ah, merciful Heaven! cease, Doctor Monroe.' • Dear Doctor, I'll thank you to hand me my breeches;
I'm better, I'll drink with you, ere that you go; I'll never more sicken for women or riches,
But love my relations and Doctor Monroe. I plainly perceive were I wedded to Christy,
My peace and my pleasures, I needs must fore-go.' He still lives a bachelor; drinks when he's thirsty;
And sings like a lark, and loves Doctor Monroe.
BEN, THE CARPENTER.
A carpenter by trade,
That was a lady's maid.
They met a pressgang crew,
Too ral, &c.
Enough to shock a saint,
'Twas nothing but a feint.
Come, girl, says he, hold up your head,
He'll be as good as me,
Too ral, &c. So when they'd made their game of her,
And taken off her elf,
A coming to herself.
She cried and wept outright;
Too ral, &c. A waterman came up to her,
Now young woman, said he,
Eye-water in the sea.
To sail with old Benbow;
Too ral, &c. Says he, they've only taken him
To the tender-ship, you see,
What a hardship that must be.
For then I'd follow him,
Too ral, &c. Alas, I was not born beneath
The virgin and the scales, So I must curse my cruel stars,
And valk about in Wales.
Now Ben had sailed to many a place
That's underneath the world,
Too ral, &c But when he called on Sally Brown,
To see how she went on,
Whose Christian name was John.
How could you serve me so?
Too ral, &c.
Then pondering o'er his bacco-box,
He heaved a heavy sigh
And then to pipe his eye.
But couldn't though he tried,
Too ral, &c. His death which happened in his berth,
At forty odd befell;
And the sexton tolled the bell.
With fearful anxious look,
Too ral, &c. WILLIAM AND JONATHAN. WILLIAM and Jonathan came to town together, William brought learning, and Jonathan some leather; Said William to Jonathan, what d’ye mean to do? Said Jonathan to William, I can sole a shoe, With my leather, lap-stone, hammer, nippers, peg
ging-awl, and bristles. Said Jonathan to William, pray, what is your intention? William talk'd of things far above his comprehension, He meant to write poetry, pamphlets, songs, and plays, Epitaphs, epigrams, and puffs, the wind to raise, With his Latin, Greek, grammar, syntax, prosody,
and logic. It chanced that they lodged in the same house together, Will stuck close to books, and Jonathan to leather; While Johnny in the cellar as any hog grew fat, Poor Will in the garret was a's thin as a starved cat. With their leather, Latin, hammer, grammar, peg
ging-awl and logic. When they had lived in town, for years nearly twenty; Will was very poor, but Jonathan had plenty; When meeting one day, they compar'd notes together, And clearly proved that learning wasn't half so good
as leather. Sing, leather, lap-stone, hammer, nippers, pegging
awl, and bristles.
SAID A FOX TO A GOOSE.
Said a fox to a goose,
(From a farm-house let loose,) And chanced to be pluming a feather,
“Dear goose, how d’ye do?