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OD'SBLOOD, what a time for a seaman to skulk
Under gingerbread hatches ashore;

What a dd bad job that this batter'd old hulk
Can't be rigged out for sea once more.

But the puppies, as they pass,
Cocking up their squinting-glass,
Thus run down the old commodore :
That's the old commodore-
The rum old commodore-
The gouty old commodore!-He!-
Why the bullets and the gout
Have so knocked his hull about,
That he'll never more be fit for sea.
Here am I in distress, like a ship water-logg'd,
Not a tow-rope at hand, or an oar;

I am left by my crew, and may I be flogged
But the doctor's a son of a w-e.

While I'm swallowing his slops
How nimble are his chops,

Thus queering the old commodore.
A bad case, commodore-

say, commodore-
Musn't flatter, commodore, says he;
For the bullets and the gout

Have so knocked your hull about, That you'll never more be fit for sea. What, no more to be afloat? blood and fury! they lie!

I'm a seaman, and only three score;
And if, as they tell me, I'm likely to die,
Gadzooks! let me not die on shore.

As to death, it's all a joke,
Sailors live in fire and smoke,
So, at least, says the old commodore.
The rum old commodore-
The tough old commodore-
The fighting old commodore!-He!-
Whom the devil, nor the gout,
Nor the French dogs to boot,
Shall kill till they grapple him at sea.


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A PLAGUE upon parsons and preachers,
And all this palavering show,

For what, in 'od's name, can they teach us,
But what we all knew long ago?
There is but little sin, I believe,

In glasses, in girls, or in rhymes;

If our crimes, too, make nobody grieve,
Why we never need grieve for our crimes.
Then drink away, drown care and sorrow,
Let your eyes and your glasses be bright,
We all may be buried to-morrow,
So let us be happy to-night.
Let hale lovers live upon kisses,
And sigh that their fair one's unkind;
If they have a mind for such blisses,
Let them feast on the blisses of mind.
For me, why I press my dear Fanny,
And fold the sweet girl in my arms,
The charms of her mind are not many,
So I mind nothing else but her charms.
Then drink away, &c.

On Harriet's soft bosom reposing,
While her heart beats with rapture within,

Can that shrine, which I bury my woes in, Be the font or the 'semblance of sin? While I doat on the glances of Nancy,

No rules or logic I prize;

If 'tis wisdom to reign in my fancy,
I fancy I ne'er shall be wise.

Then drink away, &c.

If 'tis crime to communicate pleasure,
Or shocking to propagate bliss,

'Then we've all of us sinned without measure,
For we all have been guilty of this.
But while those we love warmly love us,
Sectarians may stay their debates,

We feel there's a heaven above us,
And trust to its mercy our fates.

Then drink




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The laws he had broken, he'd never break more. His sea-boat was trim, made her port, took her lading,

Then Will stood for home, reached her offing, and cried,

This night, if I've luck, furls the sails of my trading,

In dock I can lay, serve a friend, too, beside. Will lay-to till the night came on darksome and dreary,

To crowd ev'ry sail then he piped up each hand; But a signal soon spied, 'twas a prospect uncheery, A signal that warned him to bear from the land.

The Philistines are out, cries Will, well, take no heed on't,

Attacked, who's the man that will flinch from his gun;

Should my head be blown off, I shall ne'er fee. the need on't,

We'll fight while we can, when we can't, boys we'll run.

Through the haze of the night, a bright, flash now appearing,

Oh no! cries Will Watch, the Philistines bear down,

Bear-a-hand, my tight lads, e'er we think about sheering,

One broadside pour in, should we swim, boys, or drown.

But should I be popp'd off, you, my mates, left behind me,

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Regard my last words, see 'em kindly obeyed, Let no stone mark the spot, and, my friends, do

you mind me,

Near the beach is the grave where Will Watch would be laid.

Poor Will's yarn was spun out-for a bullet next

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There's no such disease as he that doth please His palate with beer, for beer for to shame us; Tis claret that brings Madam Fancy her wings, And says musa majora canamus.

Tol de rol, &c. Art thou weak, art thou lame, dost thou sigh after fame,

Call for wie and thou quickly shall have it; It will make the lame rise, it will make the fool wise, Cui vim natura negavit.

Tol de rol, &c. The more wine in my brain, the more merry my vein, And this to me wisdom and bliss is; For him that's too wise I greatly despise, Mecum confertur Ulysses!


Tol de rol, &c.

Air-" Galla Water."-(T. Moore.)
MARY, I believed thee true,

And I was blest in thus believing;
But now I mourn that e'er I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving.
Few have ever loved like me;

Oh! I have loved thee too sincerely!
And few have e'er deceived like thee,
Alas! deceived me too severely.

Fare thee well! yet think awhile

On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee; Who now would rather trust that smile,

And die with thee than live without thee. Fare thee well! I'll think on thee,

Thou leav'st me many a bitter token;
For see, distracting woman, see
My peace is gone, my heart is broken.

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Quite politely, quite politely,

Walk in, kind sir, says she to me,
Poor lad, they cried, he's undone
Walk in, kind sir,-not so, says I,
For I've got other fish to fry;
I've seen you home, so now good bye,
I'ze Yorkshire, though in Lunnun.

My pockets soon I rummag'd o'er,

Tol de rol, &c.

Cautious ever, cautious ever,

My pockets soon I rummag'd o'er,
Who I a diamond ring found;
For I had this precaution Look,
To stick in each a small fish-hook,
In groping for my pocket-book,
The hook it stript her finger.

Tol de rol, &c.

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Now we're all met here together,
In spite of wind and weather,

To moisten well our clay;
Before we think of jogging,
Let's take a cheerful nogging;

Where's the waiter?-ring away!-
Where's the glees and the catches,
The tobacco-pipes and matches,

And plenty of brown stout?
Yet the glasses ere we start 'em,
Let's proceed, secundem artem,

Let the clerk all the names read out. SPOKEN.] Gentlemen of the Quizzical Society, please to answer to your names.-Farmer Scroggins? Why I be here.-Doctor Horseleach? Here. -Parson Paunch? Here.-Taylor Tit? Here.So he goes on for about twenty.) At last-you're here-are you all assembled? All, all, all, all.

So, here's to you, Mr. Wiggins,
Here's to you, Master Higgins,
So put the beer about.

Come, tell us what the news is,
Who wins and who loses,

Of the times, what do people say?
Hard, hard the landlord racks us,
Then we've such a load of taxes;

Indeed! well, and how goes the hay?
Why, now there's Mr. Wiseman,
He tells the exciseman

The cause of all this pother and rout--
Order! order and sobriety

Are the rules of this society,

Let the secretary read them out.

SPOKEN.] Every member of this society that

spills his liquor in his neighbour's pocket shall forfeit 2d.-Every member of this society that singes his neighbour's wig with his pipe shall forfeit 2d. Every member of this society that refuses to laugh at a good joke shall forfeit 2d.-Every member of this society who reproaches his neighbour with coming to distress by unavoidable misfortunes shall forfeit 2d.-Mr. President, I move that this forfeit be a shilling. And I second the motion. Are you all agreed? I am, unanimously.-A nobie resolution.-D'ye think so?

Why, then, here's to you, &c.

And now the potent liquor
Not even spares the vicar,

But to all their noddles mounts;
While among this set of queerers,
All talkers and no hearers,

Each his favourite tale recounts :
The soldier talks of battle,
The grazier sells his cattle,
Conversation to provoke ;
Till the juice of the barrel
Begets some curious quarrel,

While the company's lost in smoke.

SPOKEN.] Upon my soul, neighbour, I had no hand in the death of your wife; it was all in the way of business. Nay, but doctor, 'twere a cursed unneighbourly thing of you; not that the woman were any sitch great things, but to put a body to sitch an expense.-Why, you don't tell me so! killed fifteen with your own hand? Fifteen, by my laurels! D'ye hear that, butcher? Hear it, yes; but I'll lay'im what he dares, he has not killed so many as I have by hundreds. Powder my whiskers, says the barber. Come, come, gentlemen, says the bellows-maker, no breezes. Let me exhort you to temperance, says the parson. Amen, says the clerk. That's right, says the undertaker, let us bury all animosities. That's what I like, says the fiddler, I like to see harmony restored. D'ye, though?-you like to see harmony restored! Why, then, here's to you, &c.

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May our smiles of love

Cheer our lads so clever; And with whisky, boys,

We'll drink King George for ever.

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A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!

To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,
A feather of the blue,

A doublet of the Lincoln green,--
No more of me you know,

My love!
No more of me you know.

This morn, merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;

But she shall bloom in winter snow,
Ere we two meet again.'--
He turned his charger as he spake,
Upon the river shore;

He gave his bridle-reins a shake,
Said, Adieu for evermore,
My love!

And adieu for evermore.'

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FARE thee well, and if for ever,
Still for ever fare thee well!
Even though unforgiving, never

'Gainst thee can my heart rebel.
Would that breast were bared before thee,
Where thy head so oft hath lain,
While that placid sleep came o'er thee
Which thou ne'er canst know again.
Would that breast, by thee glanced over,
Every inmost thought might show,
Then thou wouldst at length discover
"Twas not well to spurn it so.
But 'tis done, all words are idle,
Words from me are vainer still;
But the thoughts we cannot bridle
Force their way against the will.
Fare thee well, thus disunited,
Torn from every nearer tie,

Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted, More than this,-I scarce can die.

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Then if to do good you receive satisfaction,
How charming to think that for every kind action,
Of conferring two you'll have the employment,
And can any man show me a sweeter enjoyment?
Then all get drunk, &c.

Since friendship's so rare and so bright a jewel,
To the fire of life that kindly adds fuel;
With wine make your clay so moist and so supple,
Instead of one friend, why you'll meet with a couple.
Then when you come home with drink in your


How sweet of two wives to hear the clappers!
But that would be covetous, out of season,
For one wife at a time is enough in all reason.
Then all get drunk, &c.
Thus were the world drunk 'twould double their

The drunken miser would double his treasure,
A city feast would have double the covers,
And ladies would double the list of their lovers;

With two sparks would Miss be to Scotland eloping, Parsons find two tithe-pigs, could we catch them a toping;

The drunkard two bowls, as he's drinking and roaring;

And if you were all drunk you'd my song be encoring.

Then all get drunk, &c.




MERRILY every bosom boundeth,

Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Where the song of freedom soundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

There the warrior's arms shed more splendour,
There the maiden's charms shine more tender,
Every joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth,

Wearily, oh! wearily, oh! Where the band of slavery twineth, Wearily, oh! wearily, oh! There the warrior's dart hath no feetness, There the maiden's heart hath no sweetness, Every flower of life declineth,

Like your

Wearily, oh! wearily, oh! Cheerily then from hill to valley, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh! native fountain sally, Cheerily, oh! cheerily oh! If a glorious death won by bravery Sweeter be than breath sighed in slavery, Round the flag of freedom rally, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

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Because he always cut his coat according to his cloth.

But Paddy knew the feelings of a gentleman it hurts

To find another ungenteely sticking in his skirts, So sent a challenge without fear, for though he wasn't rich,

He call'd himself a gentleman, and still behaved as sich.

Makirty, too, good manners had, for he, as it appears,

To Paddy wrote for leave that he might cut off

both his ears;

Says Pat to that, in style polite, as you may well


"My ears you're very welcome to, but first I'll pull your nose.'

Then when and where were settled fair, when Pat, as bold as brass,

Cried, "You know what we fight about?"→ Makirty cried, "Alas."

And then in haste, and not to waste such very precious time,

One primed without a loading, t'other loade

without prime.

Then back to back they stood, good lack, to mea. sure yards a score,

Mackirkencroft such hon


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