Page Page 311 See the star-breasted villain to yonder cot bound.... 556 suo 386 446 153 Though we roarn through the world to seek peace 311 16 22 50 71 142 The lass that would know how to manage a man.... 74 121 134 406 194 146 183 192 254 141 256 261 290 203 | Though pure are the joys that from melody flow 948 332 The sweet-brier grows in the merry green wood... 362 386 To dwell ou fair infancy's page where's the need.... 367 S73 137 Thou pride of the forest, whose dark branches 400 401 297 'Tis sweet to hear at midnight on the blue and 407 320 There's not a joy ihe world can giv like that it 971 419 494 408 436 494 The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower 444 443 Why should we the days of our boyhood bewailing 30 32 90 43 70 71 79 86 89 237 When my hand thus I proffer, your own l deny not 103 243 When the winter wind whistles along the wild moor 118 287 136 398 When friendship or love our sympathies move.. 210 964 When order in this land commenced with Alfred's sacred laws 284 295 420 While o’ertaken by trouble each prospect looks 96 348 When the cold blast of winter is found disappearing 354 When opening flowers proclaim the spring 353 When nature first salutes the spring 441 238 You both remember well the day 399 125 175 SPORTING. 256 99 134 163 199 383 394 130 297 411 165 Do you hear, brother sportsman, the sound of the horn 140 402 78 122 192 910 269 How sweet in the woodlands with fleet hound and 214 278 282 387 Hark! hark ! from the woodlands, the loud swell. 61 292 69 Hark! echo, sweet echo, repeats the loud ain.. $46 79 Hark the horn, how inviting to the sons of the chase 495 169 In Britain, the soil which true liberty yields......... 196 316 421 435 242 O'cr highlands and lowlands to chase the fleet deer 367 423 449 308 Rouse, rouse, jolly sportsmen, the hounds are all out 556 139 164 5 ... 407 Page Page From Yorkshire I did travel up to see the sights so 96 425 81 331 183 I ha' left my poor mother and cousins at home 18 23 35 62 289 I's a poor country lad, though humble's my lot 86 110 205 388 Ize a poor country lad, yet there's no harm in that 250 Ize a poor country lad, as you see by my dress ...... 281 294 In Yorkshire I wur born and bred... 360 362 309 Ize a plain country-lad as you'll tell by my song .... 440 230 341 My name's Tony Clod, waggon's just set me down 8 351 My father, who always knew what he were al........ 167 75 387 491 O dear, O dear, good gentlefolks, may it be said.... 16 75 13 123 212 60 141 'Twas by the woodside when the nuts they be ripe.. 927 289 When first in Lunnun I arrived .... 51 190 54 When I was a younker, says feyther to I 131 When I arrived in London town ......................... 186 235 188 When I comed up to London, a poor simple clown. 247 When fra York I first comed up to town 427 With heart as light as down of thistle.. 441 Ye Warwickshire lads and ye lasses ....... 185 418 287 MISCELLANEOUS. (Omitted in their proper pluces.) 120 219 419 Museum of Mirth. OR, THE NIGHTINGALE-CLUB. When Snuffle had finished, a man of excise, Air—“ Shadrack, the orangeman.”—(Knight.) Whose sqnint was prodigiously fine, Sung, · Drink to me only with thine eyes, The Nightingale-Club in a village was held, And I will pledge with mine.' At the sign of the Cabbage and Shears, After which Mr.Tug, who draws teeth for all parties, Where the singers, no doubt, would have greatly Roared a sea-song, whose burthen was ' Pull away, excell’d, my hearties, ho. But for want of taste, voice, and ears; Pull away, pull away, my hearties, Still between every toast, with his gills mighty red, Pull-pull away, pull away, my hearties.' Mr. President thus with great eloquence said — SPOKEN.] · Mr. Drinkall, we shall be happy to SPOKEN.] Gentlemen of the Nightingale-Club, hear your song, sir.' (Drunk. « 'Pon my soul, you all know the rules and regulations of this Mr. President, I cannot sing.' _ Waiter, bring society; and if any gentleman present is not aware Mr. Drinkall a glass of salt and water.'—No, of them, if he will look over the fire-place he will no, Mr. President, sooner than swallow that Sind them chalked up :—That every gentleman dose, I'll try one.'—Bravo, silence must sing a volunteer song, whether he can or no, A lass is good, and a glass is good, or drink a pint of salt and water; therefore, to And a pipe to smoke in cold weather, make a beginning of this evening's harmony, I The world it is gond, and the people are good, shall call upon Mr. Snuffle.— Bir, I have an ex- And we're all good fellows together. treme bad cold, but with your permission I'll try A is very sung, to do my best.'— Sir, that's all we wish, for, if But some people they always stick in it. you do your best, the best can do no more.Permit me to blow my nose first, and I'll begin SPOKEN.] ' 'Pon my honour, Mr. President, I cannot sing any more. directly.'-/ Singing, snuffling.) Bravo! bravo! very well sung, Jolly companions every one. Thus the Nightingale-Coub, &c. Mr. Drybones sung next, who was turned of three score, And melodiously warbled away“ • She's sweet fisteen, I'm one year more, Jolly companions every one. And yet we are too young, they say:'. Then a little Jew grocer, who wore a bob wig, Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their Struck up ^ Johnny Pringle had von very leetel pig clamour, Not very leetel, nor very pig, And were nightly knocked down with the Presi But ven alive, him live in clover, dent's hammer. But now him dead, and dat's all over.' 1 SPOKEN.] · Mr. President, I think it's time we my eye,' says the Watchman,' and, since you are had a toast or a sentiment. Certainly, whose all up so late, I must take you down to the watchturn is it to give one ?'—Mr. Mangle, the sur- house.”—Then the row began, Mr. Tug knocked geon.'— Sir, I'll give you-Success to the Royal out the Charley's teeth, Drybones smothered him Union.'-' And now, Mr. Dismal, we'll thank in gin and water, Billy Piper shoved the tobaccoyou for a song:'_Sir, I shall give you some- box down his throat, Double-lungs gave him a thing sprightly? bellygofuster, Snufile broke his nose, Max bunged • Merry are the bells, and merry do they ring, up both his eyes, and the whole affair ended with Merry is myself, and merry will I sing.' Bravo! bravo! very well sung, well Jolly companions every one. Thus the Nightingale-Club, &c. Thus the Nightingale-Club, &c. lilly Piper, some members called Breach of the THE UGLY OLD WIDOW OF ESTRAMAPeace, DURA. Because all his notes were so shrill, shrieked out like the wheel of a cart that wants (Planche.) grease, RECITATIVE. 'Deeper and deeper still.' There was an old widow lived some time ago in Mr. Max, who drinks gin, wished to coo like a Estramadura, dove, She fell very ill at the death of her first husband Murmur'd sweetly, 'Oh! listen to the voice of and thought nothing but a second would love, cure her. Which calls my Daphne to the grove.' But her phiz was so funny, that, though she had SPOKEN.] Mr. Double-lungs, the butcher, was plenty of money, she staggered all who next called on, who had a kind of a duetto voice, came to her; something like a penny trumpet and a kettle-drum, Till a young cavalier, who at elbows was queer, Mr. Double-lungs, we wish to hear your song. made up his mind to woo her. --Sir, I'll sing with all my heart, liver, and lights; AIR. I'll sing you the echo song out of Comus, with So he ogled and he sighed, my own accompaniments, for when a man accom Till he made her his bride, panies himself, he's sure to do it in the right key. Though the neighbours declared he must hate • Sweet echo, sweet echo,' her; Bravo! bravo! very well sung, For she squinted and she limped, And her face brown and crimped, Looked much like an old nutineg-grater. But thought he, wise enough, I'm in want of the stuff, And a beggar must not be a chooser; "Tis true that a glutton And down to the Cabbage and Shears she would Might prefer lamh to mutton, stray, But there's too much mint-sauce to refuse her. When Sneak by the nose home was led. While the President sat in his seat in despair, RECITATIVE. And sometimes his wife would pull him from the But to silence all jokes, and the jeers of the folks, chair. he full-length her picture had painted, come, let's have a song,--aye, there's Mr. Shiver- Then, sparing no cash, to the gilder's slap-dash it Spoken.] Gentlemen, for fear my wife should Though at the first sight of so horrid a fright, the toe, he will favour us. • 'Mid pleasure and solitude, wherever we roam, was sent, and a fine frame put to it, Let us go where we will, there is no place like And the next time 'twas said, what the deuce made home.' you wed? he took them up-stairs to view it, • No, you blackguard,' says his wife, ' it appears AIR. there is no place like home to you, for your ome The neighbours agree, seems to be the public-house.'- Gentlemen,' says “ "Tis as like as can be, Mr. Flash, 'why is Mr. Shivertoe like corn in a As old and as ugly as sin, sir!” highway?'--Because he is seedy,' says the tailor. But they quickly exclaim, - No, it is not, now, it is because he is sure to “ What a beautiful frame ! be henpeck’d.'_That's a good joke,' says Mr. It atones for the picture within, sir!" Bantem, bring me a glass of brandy and water Good friends, you are right, and put it down to the other ten I've had.' Said the cunning young wight, • That's no joke,' says the landlord.— It's not a It was thus that I judged by the dame, sis; <'y joke, at all events,' says Drinkall.— I want Though ugly and old, me spirit,' says the actor.- So you may, but She was rolling in gold, what do you owe me?'- Sings). Sweet grati- So I married my wife for the frame, sirs. lude! sweet gratitude!'- -o damn your gratitude, twelve pence in copper is worth twelve pounds of gratitude.'— But don't I patronize your house, MARY, LIST, AWAKE! sir? - Hav'n't I given you more than ever you can return to me?'_Yes, you have given me the (Hunt.) liver-complaint through drinking your raw spirits. Mary, dear Mary, list, awake! I've an inflammation on the lungs through swal- And now like the moon thy slumbers break. lowing your spirits of wine, and the dropsy through There is not a taper, and scarcely a sound, Jrinking your mixed liquors; I've been drinking for To be seen or be heard in the cottages round, the last two years to try if you had a drop of anything The watch-dog is silent, thy father sleeps, good in the house. I can't quench my thirst ; I'm And love, like the breeze, to thy window creeps. dry, the company are dry, their songs are dry, their The moonlight seems list’ning all over the land, okes are dry, and my pockets are dry,'--'That's all To the whispers of angels like thee; and my tears have O lift, but a moment, the sash with thine hand, Thus, the gentle Zephyrina can eat a pound, by And kiss but that hand to me, jingo, My love, Mary' While her grace of Rutland winds up all with a Kiss but that hand to me! gallon of good stingo. O the days, &c. Then to help the body politic, and steer the helm The vapour of sleep should fly softly the while, of state, sir ; As the breath on thy looking-glass breaks at thy We've thick heads, and we've soft heads, with smile! politics replete, sir; And then I would whisper thee never to fear, But by shifting of their ground, though their heads For Heaven is all round thee when true love is near. are mighty long, sir, Just under the woodbine, dear Mary, I stand, They now and then forget to what body they belong, Still looking and list'ning for thee; sir. O lift, but a moment, the sash with thy hand, O the days, &c. THE PEREMPTORY LOVER. Tune—“ John Anderson, my Joe." 'Tis nor your beauty nor your wit 'Thou look’st like a rose in a crystal stream, That can my heart obtain, For thy face, love, is bathed in the moolight gleam! For they could never conquer yet And, oh! could iny kisses like stream-circles rise, Either my breast or brain ; To dip in thy dimples and spread round thine eyes! For if you'll not prove kind to me, How sweet to be lost in a night such as this, And true as heretofore, In the arms of an angel like thee! Henceforth I'll scorn your slave to be, Nay, stay but a moment—one moment of bliss, Or doat upon you more. Think not my fancy to o'ercome By proving thus unkind; No smoothed sight, nor smiling frown, Nobody, sweet, can hear our sighs, Can satisfy my mind. Thy voice just comes on the soft air and dies. Pray, let Platonics play such pranka Dost thou gaze on the moon? I have gazed as I Such follies I deride; For love at least I will have thanks, rove, Till I thonght it has breathed heaven's blessing And something else beside. on love; Then open-hearted be with me, Till I've stretched out my arms, As I shall be with you, begun, And let our actions be as free And nature, and heaven, and thou, seemed but As virtue will allow. If you'll prove loving, I'll prove kind; Fare thee well, sweetest Mary, the moon's in the If true, I'll constant be; west, If fortune chance to change your mind, And the leaves shine with tear-drops like thee; I'll turn as soon as ye. So draw in thy charms, and betake thee to rest, Since our affections, well ye know, 0, thou, dearer than life to me, My love, Mary! In equal terms do stand, Thou dearer than life to me. "Tis in your power to love or no, Mine's likewise in my hand. Dispense with your austerity, THE DAYS OF GOOD QUEEN BESS. Inconstancy abhor; Or, by great Cupid's Deity, I'll never love you more. COMIC MEDLEY, If, besides in caps and laces long, I deal a bit in (Moncrieff.) history, IN THREE PARTS.-PART I. The times to display, we now will try, of worthy old Queen Bess, sir, The Nightingale-Club in a village was held, Whose virtue and whose mem'ry posterity will At the sign of the Cabbage and Shears, bless, sir. Where the singers, no doubt, would have greatly O the days of good Queen Bess, excell’d, But for want of- Four-and-twenty fiddlers all of a rów; Four-and-twenty fiddlers, Peaceful slumb'ring, Queen Bess can twang the bowstring, and hunt a At the town of neat Clogheen, pack of hounds, sir; Where While her courtiers play at quarter-staff, and dance The Graces they were culling posies the Cheshire rounds, sir. And foundAnd when her foes, with mighty blows, prepare the finest ram, sir, that was ever fed on to beat and stripe her, too, This ram was fat behind, sir, She leads both France and Spain a dance, and This ram was fat before, makes them pay the piper, too. This ram was- A faxen-headed cow-boy, as simple as may be, Then her buxom dames of honour, with collars The next a merry plough-boy that whistiedabout their necks fast, Old King Cole was a merry old soul, They gobble up beef-steaks and mutton-chops for And a merry old soul was he; breakfast. He call'd for one. hay; |