I'll give, cry'd little Jack, my Poll, She looks like a first rate. Ah! would she take her Jack in tow, I'll give, cried I, my charming Nan, Thus to describe Poll, Peg, or Nan, WE HEN Sol from the east had illumin'd the And gilded the lawns and the riv❜lets so clear, Hark Hark forward, my boys, Billy Meadows he cry'd : No sooner he spoke, but old Reynard he spy'd; Over-joy'd at the sight, we began for to skip; Tontaron went the horn, and snack went the whip. Tom Bramble scour'd forth; when almost to his chin, O'erleaping a ditch-by the lord he leap'd in ; When, just as it happ'd, but the sly master Ren, Was sneakingly hast'ning to make to his den. Then away we pursu’d, brake, covert and wood : Not quickset, nor thick set,our pleasure withstood; Soho! master Reynard-Jack Rivers, he cry'd; Old Ren, you shall die, Daddy Hawthorn reply'd. All gay as the lark the green woodlands we trac'd, While the merry-ton'd horn inspir'd as we chas'd; No longer poor Reynard his strength could he boast, To the hounds he knock'd under and gave up the ghost. The sports of the field, when concluded and o'er, We sound the horn back again over the moor; At night take the glass, and most cheerily sing, The fox-hunters round, not forgetting the king. You may do as you will, but I'll fling away care; I'll sport with the swains, and I'll toy with the fair; All the days of my life thus I'll frolic and laugh, All the days of my life thus I'll frolic and laugh. Till lately there liv'd not so wretched an elf: But wishes for more are all foolish and vain, pain, Enjoying to-day I shall find the best gain : For 'tis better by half, &c. Come over to me, all ye gay blooming throng, And 'tis better by half, &c. Then care, with his wrinkles, I give to the wind; Love and nectar to quaff; All the days of my life thus I'll frolic and laugh. WAS post meridian, half past four, ”ཀ་ By signal I from Nancy parted; At six she linger'd on the shore, With up-lift hands and broken hearted; At At sev'n, while tight'ning the fore-stay, And bade a long adieu to Nancy. Night came, and now eight bells had rung, With tempers labour cannot weary. While tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy, And my warm sighs increas'd the wind, Look'd on the moon, and thought on Nancy. And now arriv'd that jovial night, When ev'ry true-bred tar carouses, When o'er the grog all hands delight, To toast their sweet-hearts and their spouses. Round went the can, the mirth, the glee, While tender wishes fill'd cach fancy; And, when in turn it came to me, I heav'd a sigh and toasted Nancy. Next morn a storm came on at four; But love seem'd to forbid the waves To snatch me from the arms of Nancy. Scarce Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd, And dauntless we prepar'd for battle. Put up a prayer, and thought on Nancy. At last, 'twas in the month of May, And England's chalky cliffs together. While hopes and fears possess'd my fancy; At twelve I gaily jump'd on shore, And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy. WHILST happy in my native land, I boast my country's charter, I ne'er will basely lend a hand Its liberties to barter; The noble mind is not at all 'Tis guilt alone that makes us fall, So well I am persuaded Each true-born Briton's song shall be, Tho' |