SUCH BEAUTIES IN VIEW I CAN NEVER
PRAISE TOO HIGH.
(O'Keefe.)

SUCH beauties in view I
Can never praise too high;
Not Pallas's blue eye

Is brighter than thine.
Nor fount of Susannah,
Nor gold of fair Danae,
Nor moon of Diana,

So clearly can shine!
Nor beard of Silenus,
Nor tresses of Venus,
I swear, by Quæ Genus,
With yours can compare;
Not Hermes' Caduces,
Nor flower-de-luces,
Nor all the nine musos,
To me are so fair,

What posies
And roses

To noses
Discloses

Your breath all so sweet!
To the tip
Of your lip
As they trip,
The bees dip,

Honey sip,

Like choice flip,

And their hybla forget.

When girls like you pass us,
I saddle Pegasus,
And ride пр Parnassus,

To Helicon's stream: Even that is a puddle, Where others may muddle, My nose let me fuddle

In bowls of your cream.
Old Jove, the great Hector,
May tipple his nectar,
Of gods the director,

And thunder above:
I'd quaff off a can,
To Bacchus or Vulcan,
Or Jove the old bull can,
To her that I love.

What posies, &c.

SHELAH AND DERMOT.
(Dibdin.)

As Dermot toiled one summer's day,
Young Shelah, as she sat beside him,
Fairly stole his pipe away.

Oh den, to hear how she'd deride himWhere, poor Dermot, is it gone,

Your lily lily loodle?

.They've left you nothing but the drone,
And that's yourself you noodle,
Beum bum boodle, loodle loo,

Poor Dermot's pipe is lost and gone,
And what will the poor devil do!
Fait, now I'm undone, and more,
Cried Dermot-ah, will you be aesy,
Did not you stale my heart before?
Is it you'd have a man run crazy?
I've nothing left me now to moan,
My lily lily loodle,

That used to cheer me so, is gone--
Ah, Dermot, thou'rt a noodle.

Beum bum boodle, loodle loo,

My heart, and pipe, and peace are gone-

What next will cruel Shelah do?

But Shelah, hearing Dermot vex, Cried she, 'twas little Cupid moved me, Ye fool, to steal it out of tricks, Only to see how much you loved me. Come, cheer thee, Dermot, never moan, But take your lily loodle,

And for the heart of

you that's gone, You shall have mine, you noodle. Beum bum boodle, loodle loo,

Shelah's to church with Dermot gone, And for the rest-what's dat to you?

THE SAILOR HE FEARS NOT THE ROAR
OF THE SEAS.

THE sailor he fears not the roar of the seas,
But with courage all danger surmounts;
O'er his biscuit and can he reposes at ease,
And with pleasure each action recounts.
Contented, the soldier, in dreadful campaign,
Feels blessed, 'midst the thunder of war;
Nor envies the sailor, who ploughs the deep main,
Any prize-but the gain of a scar.

In Liberty's cause, may the battles they've fought,
With freedom and peace be repaid;

In the terrors of war, may the honours they've sought

Gain them laurels that never may fade.

Perhaps, the wrong side I wur on, though on the right side moving,

They turned my pockets inside out, while outside I was shoving. Tol de rol, &c.

Now when I came into the Strand, I saw some ladies fine, sir,

Taking strange men by the hand, when one took me by mine, sir;

She said, my love, come home with me, and bchaved so polite, O;

Said I, I wool, for I'm afraid to be late out at night, O. Tol de rol, &c.

When we got there, O, I could swear, I heard the watch go one, sir,

But, when I rose, put on my clothes, my watch sir;

away

had run,

It never used to keep good time, but always went too fast, sir,

And now, without a winding-up, it ran away, at last, sir.

Tol de rol, &c.

One night, when his unlucky stars did prevail,
He drank with a friend about nine pints of ale;
It got in his head-put him quite in a glow,
And made his eyes roll all about him-just so.

He then went a courting, though not very fit,
And not able to stand, why he was forced to sit;
Says he, "Oh, my love, you'll excuse me I
know;"

Says she, Mr. Dip, you've been drinking”— just so.

Says he, "Oh! my angel, pray doubt not my

"My darling," says he, " only let me explain, And I promise I never will do it again; Come, let us be friends, kiss before I do go:" Says she, then, to him, "kiss the devil"-just so. "Oh! oh! then," says he, "if you're positive still,

And determined to show me you'll have your own will,

Curse me if I care for it!-I'll let

you know, I don't care a fig for your passions"—just so.

He put on his hat, and he reeled to the door, While the maiden's poor heart was getting quite sore;

Says he, "by your cruelty here I do go;"
Says she, "Mr. Dip, can you leave me ?"-just so.
At hearing these words, Mr. Dip then turned back,
And gave her sweet lips such a good hearty smack
Says he," then next Sunday to church let us go;'
Says she, "Oh, I have no objection!"-just so.

SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.
(H. Carey.)

Of all the girls that are so smart,
There's none like pretty Sally,
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley;
There is no lady in the land

Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage-nets,

And through the streets does cry 'cm; Her mother she sells laces long,

To such as please to buy 'em;
But sure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,
(I love her so sincerely,)
My master comes, like any Turk,
And bangs me most severely;
But let him bang his belly full,
I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week,
I dearly love but one day,

And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday;

For then I'm drest all in my best,
To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
She lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,
And often am I blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch,
As soon as text is named.

I leave the church in sermon time,
And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
When Christmas comes about again,
O then I shall have money,
I'll hoard it up, and box and all,
I'll give it to my honey;

I would it were ten thousand pounds,
I'd give it all to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My master and the neighbours all,
Make game of me and Sally,
And (but for her) I'd better be

A slave, and row a galley;

But when my seven long years are out, O! then I'll marry Sally;

O! then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, But not in our alley.

THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH. Air-" Madam Fig's Gala."-(Lawler.) YOU'VE heard of one Gen'ral Macbeth, Who was both courageous and bold, sir; He had 'scaped an unfortunate death, If his fortune had never been told, sir. With Banquo his friend, he one day,

From battle victorious was coming, When some gipsies he met by the way, Who thought they'd the Gen'ral be humming. Rumpti, udity, udity, rumpti, udity, I do, Rumpti, udity, udity, ri, fal, la, de, la, li, do They promised great things and what not,

If some silver he would but come down, sir, From Macbeth two and sixpence they got, And they promised his honour a crown, sir. Banquo's was a different fate,

But kings were to spring from his body,
And Macbeth went home to relate
The tale to his wife, like a noddy.

Rumpti, udity, &c.

The king he lodged with him one night,
When Lady Macbeth, the vile slut, sir,
Determined her husband outright,

His majesty's throat for to cut, sir.
Then in her chemise she turned out,

And walked in her sleep up and down, sir, Till a doctor the secret found out,

And told it all over the town, sir.

Rumpti, udity, &c.

Then Banquo's grim ghost came to sup,

When Macbeth had made himself king, sır;

His hair on an end it stood up,

But his lady could see no such thing, sir;

Next morn to the gipsies he hies,

Who chickens were making sad slaughter on, And stealing of turnips likewise,

As ingredients for their large cauldron.

Rumpti, udity, &c.

By no man of woman that's born,

They said, he could ever be slain, sir,

Nor till on a fine summer's morn,

Burnham-wood should march to Dunsinane, sır. "My wicked designs never balking,

Undaunted," says he, "I'll now grow, sir,

For trees they are not fond of walking,
And men don't bear children we know, sir."
Rumpti, udity, &c.

But one day at the door as he stood,

He beheld a most terrible scene, sir; For to Dunsinane great Burnham-wood,

Was marching like Jack-in-the-Green, sir;
"Twas an army in bushes all crammed,
Macbeth fought their Gen'ral Macduff, sir,
And both of them swore they'd be d- -d,
If ever they cried "hold, enough, sir."
Rumpti, udity, &c.

Macduff was the man for his money,
The charm it was quite broke asunder:
He came into life very funny,

So Macbeth was obliged to knock under :
He was killed-so the moral permit,

"Shun gipsies, they are a vile crew, sir; And murder don't go to commit,

For you'll surely be hanged if you do, sir."
Rumpti, udity, &c.

Then here's a health to woman's lip,
The dearest, best of creatures;
And while the nectar's sweet we sip,
Let's bless their lovely features.
"Full bliss," 'tis said, "is bliss divine,"
And this is sure from Venus;

The second bliss, it must be wine,
And we have both between us.

Where pleasure calls, and jovial souls
Are found to push the glasses,

Come, Bacchus, pledge with flowing bowls,
Life's joys are wine and lasses.

Then here's a health to woman's lip, &c.

LOGIE O'BUCHAN.

O LOGIE O' Buchan, O Logie the laird,
They hae ta'en awa Jamie that delv'd in the yard;
Wha play'd on the pipe, wi' the viol sae sma'
They hae ta'en awa Jamie the flower o' them a'.

CHORUS.

He said, think na lang, lassic, though I gang awa;
He said, think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa;
For the simmer is coming, cauld winter's awa,
And I'll come and see thee in spite o' them a'.
O Sandy has owsen, and siller, and kye,
A house and a haddin, and a' things forbye;
But I wad hae Jamie wi' his staff in his hand,
Before I'd hae Sandy wi' houses and land.

He said, think na lang, lassie, &c.

My daddie looks sulky, my minnie looks sour,
They frown upon Jamie because he is poor;
But daddie and minnie, although that they be,
There's nane o' them a' like my Jamie to me.

He said, think na lang, lassie, &c.

I sit on my creepie, and spin at my wheel,
And think on the laddie that lo'ed me sae weel;
He had but ae sixpence, he brak it in twa,
And he gied me the hauf o't when he gaed awa.
Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa;
Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa;
The simmer is coming, cauld winter's awa,
And ye'll come and see me in spite o' them a'.

One

SPOKEN.] That's kicking t' heels I means. fine-feathered felley comed up, and "Honest lad," zays he, "dost thee knaw what's o'clock?" "Ees, zur, zays I, "I does; it be a thing what tells as I made folk t' time o' day, and that's it, zur,' knob of my stick acquainted wi' t' knob 'pon his shoulders. "Thee'st getten it all right; thee knowst time o' day now,' "all sprawling in t' mud he lay. "So," zays I, "I wishes thee a comfortable

Rump ti roll about sweet and clean,
Rump ti diddled done over!

When I comed to the place they call Strand,
And to myself there I wur talking

About how I wur comed to a stand,

To knaw which way 'twur best to be walking,

I wur taken zomehow in zurprise,

By a gentleman's hand in my pocket, Zo I just painted one of his eyes,

While I knocked t'other out of its socket!

SPOKEN.] "I be quite zorry it ha' zo falled out," zays I, "zur, but 'spose you wur took I for t'other mon; and 'now I's made thee blind, thee canst zee thy mistake plain enow, I dar zay for thee!" "It be quite unzivil," says he, "o' thee, indeed, when I wur 'bout to zhow thee t' thee way wanst; thee be'st going to the Bolt-in-Tun." "No, I ben't, zur," says I, "but when thou got to the Hand-in-Pocket, thou zoon found thee wast comed to the Bear-and-ragged-Staff! Good bye! dar zay thee'll find t'other eye zomewhere amongst t' mud, and then thee'll remember thy

Rump ti roll about sweet and clean, &c.
Then at night as I walked 'long the street,
I at first thought how the devil wur in me,
That I must be all beauty complete,

By t' lasses all striving to win me!
But I zoon found 'twur all a cajole,
That they wanted I billing and cooing,
Was just only to handle my cole,

And an innocent lad bring to ruin.

SPOKEN.]" Oh! but," zays I, "hold hard a bit there; it warn't do wi' I, ye zee; you've catched the wrong cock by the spur this time, and dom me, if I don't prick ye hardish if ye be arter ossin to pluck my feathers!" Up I jumpt, and in bounced a bully; settled him with a rattler at once; down I tumbled madam's table, glasses, and gin-bottles, altogether, head over tip! Such a crash; my eye! They screamed out like good ones; and off I bolted as fresh as a stubble-goose, wi' all my quills safe; never looked behind me. "Dom my leather jacket," zays I, "but this be Zo took quite enow o' Lunnun for I this time!" top o' t' coach at once, and started off whoam for Yorkshire, as merry as a lark all the way, and while I wur thought o' t' lasses I left sprawling behind me, I zung, Rump ti roll about sweet and clean, Rump ti deep ones done ove.

MY LOVE IS FAR AWAY.
(Upton.)

O! BEAUTY, beauty, smile no more,
No more, and hear the Fates' decree;
Thy reign is past-thy triumph's o'er,
Since she, thy boast, is lost to me.
Saw you the rose but yester-eve,

How sad and pale, though late so gay? Saw you not every flower grieve,

Since she, my love, is far away? O! whither can the trifler find

A heart more fond and true than mine? Ah! why then leave her slave behind,

And to despair that heart consign; The birds on every perch and tree

Lament, and, sorrowing, seem to say, All nature droops, and droops with me, Since she, my love, is far away. O beauty, beauty, shall thy queen To distant regions careless roam; Shall she, thy pride, no more be seen, When you can call the wanderer home? O! no; some means, some art devise,

And rule again with magic sway; For man, yes, man, thy power defies, While she, my love, is far away,

....

I'D RATHER STAY WITH YOU. (Dibdin.)

MADAM, you know my trade is war: And what should I deny it for? Whene'er the trumpet sounds from far,

I long to hack and hew.

Yet, madam, credit what I say;
Were I this moment called away,
And all the troops drawn in array,
I'd rather stay with you.

Did drums and sprightly trumpets sound,
Did Death and Carnage stalk around,
Did dying horses bite the ground,

Had we no hope in view, Were the whole army lost in smoke, Were they the last words that I spoke, I'd say, and d-me if I joke,

I'd rather stay with you.

Did the foe charge us front and rear,
Did e'en the bravest face appear
Imprest with signs of mortal fear!

Though never vet'ran knew
So terrible and hot a fight;
Though all my laurels it should blight;
Though I should lose so fine a sight;
I'd rather stay with you.

And my mother's been murdered by grief; The infant companions, who oft were my guides, No longer their friendship employ,

And the misery-light-hearted pleasure derides— Of the poor little blind beggar boy.

The debt which, alas! a false friend made him owe,

Robbed my parent of liberty's sweets;

Each moment he breathes is imbittered with woe, And nought but misfortune he meets.

Each slender refreshment's from charity's store, Or famine his span would destroy,

And, alas! that kind hand which relieved is no more,

Cried the poor little blind beggar boy.

Thus mournful he pleaded, when, sudden as thought,

This tale near deprived him of breath, That his father was gone, and his spirit had sought For peace in the bosom of death;

He rushed (for affection each sense did inspire) To his cell, every means to employ

To revive him, then clasping the corpse of his sire, Died the poor little blind beggar boy.

........

NOW, MY BOYS, FOR PARIS REVELS.

(Moncrieff.)