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As an Old Jack Daw and a Young Jack Daw

Vere a valking out together,

As you very vell know what 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 with 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,

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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.

MORAL.

Attend, all good people, both old and young,

To vhat I vould say to you now,

And whenever you goes for to valk out together, Don't get up a top of a cow;

And, like the poor dicky birds, quarrel and figat,

Lest you gets a bloody nose;

You may be sent home in the wery same plight, With a nastiness over your clothes.

........

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!

........

IRISH PROVIDENCE.

Air-" The Sprig of Shellelagh." My darling, says Pat, to his spouse on his lap, At this present moment we're not worth a rap, With our faces so lean, and our duds on cur backs,

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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.

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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.

........

THE TEAR.

(Byron.)

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 permission, Mr. Guzzlewine shall take the chair. Bravo! Yes, yes. Gentlemen, in returning thanks for the honour done me, I can only say-I can only sayupon my soul I'm very much obliged to you. Bravo! bravo! bravo! That's what I 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 your neck if you keep sitting with your back to the door. Thank'e, sir, it's the only thing I have been fright

ened 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. Sir, 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 you 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. The cloth now removed, and the president, rising, Proposes a toast which was oft drank before; Some drink it with spirits, some swallow't with

wine in,

But all that they drink's for the good of the poor. Now merriment reigning, they argue grave matter, Bring the poor on the carpet-themselves on the floor;

Talk of charity sermons in outrageous clatter,
And, preaching, get drunk for the good of the

poor.

SPOKEN.] Gentlemen, in rising to give the health of our worthy wicker, I can only say that I am giving that of a good man, (bravo!) -a man that is eager to benefit both his own and every body else's soul and body; -a man that never 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 himself, gentlemen, is generously lying in bed, or resting from the hard effects of a drinking bout, 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:

Ah, no, the love that first can warm,
Will leave her bosom never:
No second passion e'er can charm,
She loves, and loves for ever!

.......

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.

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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.

Tol, lol, lol, &c.

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game,

And Truth kick'd aside to give credence to lies. Then, there's little Wainscot, the carpenter's son, Will tell you strange stories, and swear he has 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."

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"So my sons from your crackers no mischief shall "Whilst, snug in their club-room they jovially "The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine. Next, Momus got up, with his risible phiz, And swore with Apollo he'd cheerfully join"The full tide of harmony still shall be his, "But the song, and the catch, and the laugh,

dread,

twine

shall be mine.

"Then, Jove, be not jealous "Of these honest fellows.".

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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, &0.

........

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!

........

MR. LARRY O'GALLIGAN MAC FUSLE'S

AMOURS.

Air-" Paddy O'Carrol."

OCH, when I was a gossoon so merry and frisky, No smaller, do you see, than a large water-log,

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