Through groves of palm Fire-flies on the air are wheeling; Comes soft perfume, The distant beds of flowers revealing. O wake and live! A shadow'd bliss, the real excelling; No longer sleep, From lattice peep, And list the tale that Love is telling. OUR COUNTRY IS OUR SHIP, D'YE SEE. OUR country our ship, d'ye see, A gallant vessel too, And of his fortune proud is he, Who's of the Albion's crew; And lend a hand, As the common cause demands. Among ourselves, in peace, 'tis true, We fairly scold it out: But once the enemy's in view, Shake hands, we soon are friends. On the deck, Till a wreck. Each the common cause defends. TASTE! OH TASTE. TASTE, oh taste, this spicy wine, FLOWING HAIR. TIME has not thinn'd my flowing hair, And sing of love till I grow old. O! LIFE IS LIKE A SUMMER FLOWER, O LIFE is like a summer flower, Blooming but to wither; O love is like an April hour Tears and smiles together. O joy is but a passing ray, A gleam that cheers a winter's day, But tho' in hopeless dark despair, BRUCE'S ADDRESS. Scors, wha hae wi' Wallace bled! Or to glorious victory! Now's the day, and now's the hour! See approach proud Edward's pow'r ! Wha will be a traitor knave? Traitor coward! turn and flee. Wha for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw; Freeman stand, or freeman fa' Caledonian! on wi' me! By Oppression's woes and pains! Forward! let us do, or die! GENERAL WOLFE'S SONG. The colours they are flying, boys; May we still be found Content, with our hard fare, my boys, Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys? Why, soldiers, why? Whose business 'tis to die. What, sighing? fie! Drink on, and let's be jolly, boys, "Tis he, you, and I, Cold, hot, wet, or dry, We're always bound to follow, boys, 'Tis but in vain, (I meant not to upbraid you, boys,) 'Tis but in vain For soldiers to complain; Should next campaign Send us to Him that made us, boyɛ We're free from pain; THE BEGGAR A BEGGAR I am, and of low degree, I'm lame, but when in a fighting bout, I'm hung with bags, A bag for the leg of a goose: For my oats a bag, For my groats a bag, And a bottle to hold my boose. It's now Heaven bless you for your charity, It's "my noble masters your charity !"- "Stand and deliver, or I'll knock you down!" All day for a wandering mumper pass, All night-oh! a barn, a buxom lass. I'm clothed in rags, &c. ADIEU, MY NATIVE LAND, ADIEU. The vessel spreads her swelling sails; Your fertile fields, your flowery dales. Far from the faithless maid I roam; Adieu, my native, &c. |