One morning from his head we bore,
With every stitch of sail;

And going at ten knots an hour,

In six months came to his tail.

As curl'd all up this snake did lay,
Five hundred miles about,

A ship by chance came by that way,

For a colony set out.

Tol lol, &c.

This snake mistook for their promised lands A grievous thing, good lack!

Men, women, babes, a thousand hands,

All lodged on this snake's back!

Tol lol, &c.

And there they lived for a year or two,
With oxen, pigs, and sheep;

The snake, you may believe it true,
Was all the while asleep.

But when they'd built a handsome church,

And houses of a row,

The snake he left them in the lurch,

By diving down below.

Tol lol, &c.

Now once on end, with all his strength,

To stand this snake did try,

But when he'd got up half his length,
His head did touch the sky.

Some seamen whom this snake did note,
Thought 'twas famed Teneriff;

So straightway sent the jolly-boat
For fresh water and beef.

The sea he fills with breakers new

By the shedding of his teeth,

Tol lol, &c.

On which was shipwreck'd the whole crew
Of a vessel bound for Leith.

So landsmen all, I pray give ear,
And do some pity take;

You see what dangers did appear,

Through this thundering large sea-snake.

THE WITCHES' GLEE.

Tol lol, &c.

WHEN shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain;
When the hurly-burly's done,
When the battle's lost and won,
That will be ere set of sun.

HE LOVES AND HE RIDES AWAY.

AT the Baron of Mowbray's gate was seen,
A page with a courser black,

There came out a Knight of a noble mien,
And he leap'd on the courser's back;
His arms were bright, his heart was light,
And he sang the merry lay-
How jollily lives a fair young knight,
He loves and he rides away.

A Lady look'd over the castle wall,
And she heard the Knight thus sing;
This Lady's tears began to fall,

And her hands began to wring;

And didst thou then thy mistress plight,
And was it but to betray!

Ah! tarry awhile my own dear Knight
In pity don't ride away.

The Knight of her tears he took no heed,
Whilst scornful laugh'd his eye,

He gave the spur to his prancing steed,
Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye ;

And soon he vanished from her sight,

Whilst she was heard to say

Ah, ladies, beware of a false young Knight,
He'll love and he'll ride away.

WHEN SHALL WE THREE MEET AGAIN?

WHEN shall we three meet again?
When shall we three meet again?
Oft shall glowing hope expire,
Oft shall wearied love retire,
Oft shall death and sorrow reign
Ere we three shall meet again.

Though in distant lands we sigh,
Parch'd beneath a hostile sky;
Though the deep between us rolls,
Friendship shall unite our souls:
Still in Fancy's rich domain
Oft shall we three meet again.

When the dreams of life are fled,
When its wasted lamps are dead;
When in cold oblivion's shade,
Beauty, power, and fame are laid;
Where immortal spirits reign,
There shall we three meet again.

THE FINE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN.

I'LL sing you a good old song,

Made by a good old pate,

Of a fine old English gentleman,
Who had an old estate;

And who kept up his old mansion
At a bountiful old rate;
With a good old porter to relieve
The old poor at his gate.
Like a fine old English gentleman,
All of the olden time.

His hall, so old, was hung around
With pikes, and guns, and bows,
And swords, and good old bucklers,
That had stood against old foes;
"Twas there "his worship" held his state,
In doublet, and trunk hose ;

And quaff'd his cup of good old sack,
To warm his good old nose.

Like a fine, &c.

When Winter's cold brought frost and snow,

He open'd house to all;

And though threescore and ten his years,

He fleetly led the ball;

Nor was the houseless wanderer,

E'er driven from his hall:

For, while he feasted all the great,

He ne'er forgot the small.

Like a fine, &c.

But time, tho' sweet, is strong in flight,
And years roll swiftly by ;

And Autumn's falling leaf proclaim'd

The old man-he must die!
He laid him down right tranquilly,
Gave up life's latest sigh;

A mournful stillness reign'd around,
And tears bedew'd each eye,

For this good, &c.

Now surely this is better far
Than all the new parade
Of Theatres and Fancy Balls,
"At Home," and Masquerade:

And much more economical,
For all his bills were paid;

Then leave your old vagaries quite,

And take up the old trade,

Of a fine, &c.

THE FINE YOUNG ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. (Parody on the above.)

I'LL sing you a prime new song,
That was made by a young chap's pate,
Of a fine young English gentleman,
Who'd come to an estate;

Who kept his hunters and his hounds
At a d -d expensive rate,
With servants gay, to drive away
The poor folks from his gate;
Like a fine young English gentleman,
Born in the modern times.

His study it was strew'd around

With what?-Lord only knows!

Foils, boxing-gloves, and pistols,

Which he us'd with friends and foes:

"Twas there "the squire" took his wine
And cigar whene'er he chose;
Perusing the Court Journal,

Or Blackwood's tedious prose.

Like a fine, &c.

He was when merry winter came
The gayest of them all;

At five-and-twenty he was seen
At ev'ry fancy ball.

At each theatre-masquerade--
This gentleman would call ;

And while he feasted with the great,
He quite forgot the small.

Like a fine, &c.