As an Old Jack Daw and a Young Jack Daw Vere a valking out together,

As

you very vell know vhat birds vill do That are of the same feather;

Says the Old Jack Daw to the Young Jack Daw,
I vo❜n't valk another stride,

For I sees a cow in yonder mead-ow,
So let us get up and ride.

As the Old Jack Daw and the Young Jack Daw
Vere a riding up a top of the cow,

Says the Young Jack Daw to the Old Jack Daw,
I can ride as vell as thou;

Says the Old Jack Daw to the Young Jack Daw, Vhy you can't ride half so vell;

Then, says the Young Jack Daw to the Old Jack Daw,

If I can't, vhy then I vill cut a great swell. As the Old Jack Daw and the Young Jack Daw Vere going on vith their dispute,

Says the Old Jack Daw to the Young Jack Daw, I vishes as how you'd be mute;

Says the Young Jack Daw to the Old Jack Daw, I vo'n't, for I'll kick up a row;

Why then, says the Old Jack Daw to the Young Jack Daw,

I'll kick you off of the cow.

As the Old Jack Daw and the Young Jack Daw
Felt their passions begin for to rise,

Says the Old Jack Daw to the Young Jack Daw
I'll peck out both your eyes;

Says the Young Jack Daw to the Old Jack Daw, Fy on you, you vicked Old Bird;

Vith that, the Old Jack Daw kick'd the Young

Jack Daw,

And tumbled him into a

Vhen the Old Jack Daw saw the Young Jack Daw, He vas sorry for vhat he had done;

Says the Old Jack Daw to the Young Jack Daw, Oh! indeed, it was only in fun;

Says the Young Jack Daw to the Old Jack Daw, I'll go home and I'll tell my mammy;

Vhy then, says the Old Jack Daw to the Youn, Jack Daw,

If I care for the old witch, d-me.

OH, THEN I THINK OF THEE, DEAR
LOVE.

OH! not when other eyes may read
My heart upon my cheek,
Oh! not when other ears can hear,
Dare I of love to speak!

But when the stars rise from the sea,
Oh! then I think of thee, dear love!
Oh! then I think of thee!
When o'er the olives of the dell
The silent moonlight falls,

And when upon the rose the dew
Hangs scented coronals,

And buds close upon the chestnut tree,-
Oh! then I think of thee, dear love!
Oh! then I think of thee!

Our cow and our pig, my dear Norah, are dead,
Not a single paratoe is left us for bread,
The science of ploughing my father taught me,
So I'll e'en try the water and plough the salt sea-
With my Jill, sing Jack, sing Biblio whack.
Says Norah, when you're on the ocean, my life,
Sure Providence then will take care of your wife,
For no babies have we, not a Jill nor a Jack;-
But when Pat was away, what did Providence
do?-

Made the Squire build for Norah a cabin quite

For if Providence minds to send legs to your chairs,

Sure he'll never forget to send fathers for heirs-
With his Jill, sing Jack, sing Biblio whack.
Oh! Norah, when I've been upon the salt sea,
By St. Patrick, you've been a big traitress to me;
May whiskey console me, for I'm on the rack;
For if Providence peoples my cabin with brats,
While I'm sailing over live herrings and sprats,
Mr. Deputy Providence never will do,

So to him and Old Nick I kick babies and you-
Sing Jill, sing Jack, sing Biblio whack.

OH, LADY! I'VE DREAMT OF THEE NIGHT AFTER NIGHT. (Kenney.)

OH, lady! I've dreamt of thee night after night, And kissed that sweet image so often,

That though I much feared even that was not right,

It hath seemed all my sorrows to soften.

But nights then have followed, so sleepless with

care,

So full of wild wishes and sadness,

Without one illusion to sooth my despair,

That demons might pity my madness.

Oh! think it not, lady, a toy of my youth,
To change as our destinies sever,

I have loved thee with so much devotion and truth,

I am sure I shall love thee for ever.

Then here let me swear, though unpitied the while,

And, hopeless, I still should implore thee, Condemned by thy scorn, or restored by thy smile,

In life, or in death, to adore thee!

HARK! HARK! THE JOY-INSPIRING
HORN.

HARK! hark! the joy-inspiring horn
Salutes the rosy rising morn,

And echoes through the dale;
With clam'rous peels the hills resound,
The hounds, quick-scented, scour the ground,
And snuff the fragrant gale.

Nor gates nor hedges can impede
The brisk, high-mettled, starting steed,
The jovial pack pursue;

Like lightning, darting o'er the plains,
The distant hills with speed he gains,
And sees the game in view.

Her path the timid hare forsakes,
And to the copse for shelter makes,

There pants awhile for breath;
When now the noise alarms her ear,
Her haunt's descried, her fate is near,
She sees approaching death.
Directed by the well-known breeze,
The hounds their trembling victim seize;
She faints, she falls, she dies!
The distant coursers now come in,
And join the loud triumphant din,
Till Echo rends the skies.

WHEN friendship or love
Our sympathies move;

When truth, in a glance, should appear,
The lips may beguile

With a dimple or smile,

But the test of affection's a tear.

Too oft is a smile

But the hypocrite's wile, To mask detestation or fear; Give me the soft sigh, Whilst the soul-telling eye

Is dimmed for awhile with a tear.

Mild Charity's glow,

To us mortals below,'
Shows the soul from barbarity clear;
Compassion will melt

Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffused in a tear.

The man, doomed to sail
With a blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
As he bends o'er the wave,
Which may soon be his grave,
The green sparkles bright with a tear.

The soldier's brave death,
For a fanciful wreath,

Is Glory's romantic career;

But he raises the foe,

When in battle laid low,

And bathes every wound with a tear.
If, with high-bounding pride,
He return to his bride,
Renouncing the gore-crimsoned spear;
All his toils are repaid,
When, embracing the maid,
From her eye-lid he kisses the tear.

Sweet scene of my youth,

Seat of Friendship and Truth, Where love chased each fast-fleeting year; Loth to leave thee, I mourned, For a last look I turned,

But thy spire was scarce seen through a tear.

Though my vows I can pour

To my Mary no more,

My Mary, to love once so dear;
In the shade of her bower,

I remember the hour,

She rewarded those vows with a tear.,

By another possessed,

May she live ever blessed,

Her name still my heart must revere; With a sigh I resign

What I once thought was mine, And forgive her deceit with a tear.

Ye friends of my heart,
Ere from you I depart,
This hope to my breast is more near;
As ye pass by the tomb
Where my ashes consume,
Oh! moisten their dust with a tear.

May no marble bestow
The splendour of woe,
Which the children of Vanity rear;
No fiction of Fame

Shall blazon my name,
All I ask, all I wish, is a tear.

THE CHURCHWARDENS' DINNER.

(With original Speaking.)

OH! what a fine sight is a churchwardens' dinner, You'd think they'd been fasting for two days or

more:

I'm sure t'must give pleasure, yes e'en to a sinner,
To see how they stuff for the good of the poor.
Now, you take the chair, he'll attend to the table;
And I'll be the steward till dinner is o'er;
Our Vice has much virtue, I'm sure that he's able
And willing to carve for the good of the poor.
SPOKEN.] Now, gentlemen, with your permis-

your

sion, Mr. Guzzle wine shall take the chair. Bravo! Yes, yes. Gentlemen, in returning thanks for the honour done me, I can only say I can only say upon my soul I'm very much obliged to you. Bravo! bravo! bravo! That's what call a short speech and a merry one. Vell, that's just what I wishes for in my liquor; I loves a drop of something short. I say, Jack, when do you think the dinner will come up? To-morrow morning, perhaps. Sir, I am disgusted with your insinivation. My dear Mr. Fullboy, you'll get a crick in neck if you keep sitting with your back to the door. Thank'e, sir, it's the only thing I have been frightened of for a long time. Then, sir, I can only say that you are not a jolly fellow, or you would never be frightened at a draught. Your draught, sir, is dry wit, and wants something to wet it. Then look out for the wine ;-but here comes the dinner. Silence, gentlemen, for Non nobbis. Non what, sir? Non nobbis. Non the devil! There's an ignorant dog to call grace the devil. Silence! silence! for

Oh! what a fine sight, &c. Pray walk up that leg, sir, and hoist me the shoulder;

This tough little pig is a terrible bore: Give me some hot liver,-no, wait till it's colder; And I'll take some heart for the good of the poor.

Alderman Gobble takes turtle and sherry: Here, bring me some wine,-waiter, you keep the door.

Our president, Guzzlewine's, drank himself merry, But all this is done for the good of the poor. SPOKEN.] Pray, sir, can you tell me what I've got on my plate? The wing of a fowl, sir. Then

I can only say that it's a foul wing. Lord! sir, that was a merry thought. Yes, and if you wait a bit, that gentleman has got another. Where? Why, sticking in his throat. Sir, I vishes as how you vouldn't shake your floury head so when you eat, for roast goose doesn't vant a dredger. Šir, how dare you insinuate that I have flour in my head. I insinuate, sir, that you've got nothing in your head. Order, order, gentlemen; being all plain men, we don't want any flowry language here. No; but let me tell you, sir, ill-bred men, when they talk about flour, are enough to make any man crusty. I ax your pardon, sir, but I had no idea you was a baker. There's Mr. Dipwell, the tallow-chandler, sitting with nothing before him what will yon please to take, sir? A little bit of any thing fat, sir. Mr. Fitwell, the shoemaker, what shall I help you to? A little bit of that eel pie, if you please. What do you wish for, Doctor Preachaway? A good sole, sir. He he he! that's werry droll,-soles and eels. Now, gentlemen, I'll ask you a riddle : -Why does a clergyman and a shoemaker resemble each other? I don't know, sir. Do you, sir? No. Do you, sir? No. Why, then, I'll tell you; because they both endeavour to mend the understanding. Is it? well,

What a fine sight, &c.

health of our worthy wicker, I can only say that I SPOKEN.] Gentlemen, in rising to give the am giving that of a good man, (bravo!)-a man body else's soul and body;-a man that never that is eager to benefit both his own and every

flinches from a two-hours' sermon, or a two-pint bottle;-a man that wishes to benefit and bring even his curate into practice, by letting him do all the church business throughout the year, while he resting from the hard effects of a drinking bout, himself, gentlemen, is generously lying in bed, or which has made him unfit for any thing in the world but a bishop. It is useless to say more, gentlemen; so here is the Rev. Dr. Graspall, with three times three. Mr. Drinkaway, sir, you've cracked a bottle. Well, sir, what of that; I intends to crack a dozen before I leaves the room. Holloa! where's the chairman? Why, lying under the table, with the parish-clerk's foot in his mouth. Then I can only say, that he is very near a calf. Oh! what a fine sight, &c.

........

O SAY NOT WOMAN'S LOVE IS BOUGHT.

(Pocock.)

OH! say not woman's love is bought
With vain and empty treasure;
Oh! say not woman's heart is caught
By every idle pleasure.
When first her gentle bosom knows

Love's flame, it wanders never;
Deep in her heart the passion glows,
She loves, and loves for ever!

Oh! say not woman's false as fair;
That like the bee she ranges;
Still seeking flowers more sweet and rare,
As fickle fancy changes:

THE SOLDIER'S ADIEU.
(Dibdin.)

ADIEU, adieu, my only life!

My honour calls me from thee
Remember thou'rt a soldier's wife,
Those tears but ill become thee:
What though, by duty, I am called
Where thundering cannons rattle,
Where valour's self might stand appalled,
When on the wings of thy dear love,
To heaven above,

Thy fervent orisons are flown;
'The tender prayer,

Thou putt'st up there,

Shall call a guardian angel down,
To watch me in the battle.

My safety thy fair truth shall be,
As sword and buckler serving;
My life shall be more dear to me,
Because of thy preserving.
Let peril come, let horror threat,
Let thundering cannons rattle,
I'll fearless seek the conflict's heat,
Assured when on the wings of love,
To heaven above, &c.

Enough, with that benignant smile,
Some kindred God inspired thee,
Who knew thy bosom void of guile,

Who wondered and admired thee.
I go assured, my life, adieu,

Though thundering cannons rattle, Though murdering carnage stalks in view, When on the wings of thy true love, To heaven above, &c.

Iron bedsteads have long been in use,

With cast-iron they now pave our streets, Each tailor has a cast-iron goose,

And we soon shall have cast-iron sheets.
Tommy Whalebone has grown quite a blade,
So dextrous and clever his hand is,
Swears he now shall have excellent trade,
Making cast-iron stays for the dandies.
Tol, lol, lol, &c.

We have cast-iron gates and lamp-posts,
Cast-iron mortars and mills too;.
And our enemies know to their cost,
We have plenty of cast-iron pills too.
Old Gobble's as rich as a Jew,

Whose wife kicks up a terrible row, sir,
Cries, pray, Mr. Founder, can't
you

Make a cast-iron tongue for my spouse, sir.
Tol, lol, lol, &c.

We have cast-iron fenders and grates,
Cast-iron pokers and tongs, sir,
And we soon shall have cast-iron plates,
And cast-iron small-clothes ere long, sir:
Or should any mischievous jade

Wish her dear hubby's head to adorn, sir,
"Twill be easy to have a pair made
Of beautiful cast-iron horns, sir.

So great is the fashion of late,

Tol, lol, lol, &c.

We have cast-iron hammers and axes, And, if we may judge by their weight, We have plenty of cast-iron taxes. Cast-iron bank-notes we can't use,

But should we e'er prove such big ninnies,

A good Henry Hase to refuse,
They must issue out cast-iron guineas.

Tol, lol, lol, &c.

read so;

Which found to be false, says, " as sure as a gu "That lying fellow the cobbler said so."

Then, there's Barbarossa, the shaver, will spin
More lies in a day than the days of the year;
And, while he is scraping the hair from
your chin,
Declares it must all plain as gospel appear;
But, should you find out all he says is a hum,
Nor suffer your sense by the nose to be led so,
Barbarossa will cry, with a look rather glum,
"That lying fellow the cobbler said so."

Then, the butcher, the baker, the grocer, and
Snip,

Are as full of reports as an egg's full of meat, And, should they but hear we have taken a ship, Will tell you, and swear it, we've taken a fleet'

Yet, when it's discovered such news is a lie,

And more are found hatching where others have bred so,

To get off with credit, then comes the old cry, "That prating fellow, the cobbler, said so." T'other day it fell out that a wedding took place (For so said the gossips, and they must be right!)

Between so-and-so,-when, oh! terrible case,

In seven weeks after, a child came to light! But Truth, to show Scandal for once told a lie, Prov'd the bride chanced to die, 'ere to church they were led so.

When again it was said, with a stare and a why, "That lying fellow, the cobbler, said so."

........

TO ANACREON, IN HEAVEN.

(Ralph Tomlinson.)

To Anacreon, in heaven, where he sat in full glee,

A few sons of Harmony sent a petition, That he their inspirer and patron would be,

When this answer arrived from the jolly old
Grecian-

"Voice, fiddle, and flute,
"No longer be mute,

"I'll lend ye my name, and inspire ye to boot; "And, besides, I'll instruct you, like me, to entwine

"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine." The news through Olympus immediately flew : When old Thunder pretended to give himself airs

"If these mortals are suffer'd their scheme to

"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

"The yellow-hair'd god and his nine fusty maids "From Helicon's banks will incontinent flee; "Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades, "And the biforked hill a mere desert will be: "My thunder, no fear on't, "Shall soon do it's errand, "And, d-'me, I'll swinge the ringleaders, I warrant;

"I'll trim the young dogs, for thus daring to twine

"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine." Apollo rose up, and said, " Pr'ythee ne'er quarrel,

"Good king of the gods, with my votaries below: "Your thunder is useless :"-then, showing his laurel,

Cried, "Sic evitabile fulmen, you know!

"Then over each head

Cried Jove," We relent, since the truth you now tell us :

"And swear, by old Styx, that they long shall entwine

"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine." Ye sons of Anacreon, then, join hand-in-hand; Preserve unanimity, friendship, and love: 'Tis yours to support what's so happily planned; You've the sanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove.

While thus we agree,

Our toast let it be

"May our club flourish, happy, united, and free, "And long may the Sons of Anacreon entwine "The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

WE'LL GANG TO KIRK AWA'.
My lad's a braw and bonny lad,
Good-temper'd, kind, and free;
And, day and night, the bonny boy
Is always wooing me:

For, though they say we shanna' wed,
And make a mickle din,

Still Jamie fondly whispers me,
"Hoot dinna' care a pin!"

For we will gang to kirk, my love,
We'll gang to kirk awa'.

My father's grown a crabbed man,
And baits us with his tongue,
My mither too, who joins with him,
Forgets when she was young:
But let them scold, and let them frown,
And make a mickle din,

Still Jamie fondly whispers me,
"Hoot! dinna' care a pin!"

For we will gang to kirk, &c.

My granny's kind, and takes our part
Whene'er we are not by,

And Jamie's hopes are joined to mine,
To pray she
may not die :

For, while we have a friend in her,
We fear no mickle din;

Still Jamie fondly whispers me,
"Hoot! dinna care a pin!"

For we will gang to kirk, &c.

ARISE! AND BLOW THE TRUMPET,
FAME, TO MASONRY.

ARISE! and blow the trumpet, Fame!
Free-masonry aloud proclaim

To realms and worlds unknown:
Tell them 'twas this great David's son,
The wise, the matchless, Solomon,

Prized far above his throne.
The solemn temple's cloud-capt towers,
Th' aspiring domes are works of ours,
By us those piles were raised :
Then bid mankind with songs advance,
And through th' ethereal vast expanse
Let Masonry be praised!

We help the poor in time of need,
The naked clothe, the hungry feed,
"Tis our foundation-stone:
While justice and benevolence,
With fortitude and temperance,
Adorn and grace the throne!