So may our life be clouded never, NO JOY WITHOUT MY LOVE. If not with thee I'm blest, If not to deck thy breast, In vain I wreath the flower. Such scenes as these no joys can prove, Such scenes, &a O TWINE A WREATH. OH! twine a wreath of evergreen, Whose anxious thoughts will ever turn Oh! twine a wreath, &c. How few, 'mid pleasure's dazzling scenes, How few, who wealth and power obtain, Too oft, in youth's gay sunny days, Oh! twine a wreath, &e. SYMPATHY. IN thee I bear so dear a part, When thou art griev'd, I grieve no less, RISE, CYNTHIA, RISE. RISE, Cynthia, rise, the ruddy morn, Still wrapt in pleasing visions lie. GLEE. AMIDST the myrtles as I walk, Tell me, said I, &c. THE DASHING WHITE SERGEANT. IF I had a beau for a soldier would go, Not a sigh would it draw, If an army of Amazons e'er came to play, When my soldier was gone, d'ye think I'd take on, His fame may concern, How my bosom would burn Crown'd with victory. If an army of Amazons e'er came to play, HOME, SWEET HOME. 'MID pleasures and palaces thongh we may roam, Still, be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the skies seems to hallow it there, Which, go through the world, you will not meet elsewhere. Home, home, Sweet home! There is no place like home, An exile from home, pleasure dazzles in vain, HE WAS FAMED. HE was fam'd for deeds of arms, One pure flame pervades both hearts: Love to conquest now must yield: Sweet maid, he cries, again I'll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory. Battle now with fury glows, Hostile blood in torrents flows! And now the trumpet sounds to arms! And now the clash of war's alarms! He with love and conquest burns, Rush'd and caught him in her arms! O death! he cried, thou'rt welcome now to me, For, hark! the glad trumpet sounds a victory! SWEET KITTY CLOVER. SWEET Kitty Clover, she bothers me so, Oh, oh, oh, oh! Her cheeks are red, and round, and fat, Like pulpit cushion, and redder than that. My Kitty in figure is rather low, She's three feet high, and that I prize, Oh, oh, &c. Oh, sweet Kitty Clover, &c. Where Kitty dwells I'm sure to go, Oh, oh, &c. One moon-light night, ah me, what bliss! Through the hole of the window I gave her a kiss, Oh, sweet Kitty Clover, &c. If Kitty to kirk would with me go, Oh, oh, &c. I think I should never be wretched again, If after the parson she'd say Amen. Oh, sweet Kitty Clover, &e. Nor a drum was heard, not a funeral note, We buried him darkly at dead of night, Few and short were the prayers we said, No useless coffin confined his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. |