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But when our country's foes are nigh*
Each hastens to his gun, sir;
And bang the haughty Dim, sir.
Our foes subdued, once more on shore,
And when that's done, we drown our eare,
TIME has dot tninii'd my flowing hair,
Let me enjoy the cheering day,
Till many a year has o'er me roll'd;
Pleas'd, let me trifle life away,
SEE the conqu'ring hero comes!
See the godlike youth advance!
s 2 WHEN
WHEN I took my departure from Dublin's
did plow, For four long days I was toss'd up and down,
Like a quid of che w'd hay in the throat of a cow; While afraid off the deck in the ocean to slip, sir, I clung, like a cat, a fast hold for to keep, sir, Round about the big post that grows out of the ship, sir; Oh! I never thought more to sing Langolee.
Thus standing stock still all the while I was mov-
quarter, The first step I took, I was in such a totter, That I jump'd upon land—to my neck up in water; Oh! there was no time to sing Langolee.
But as sharp cold and hunger I never yet knew more, And my stomach and bowels did grumble and growl, I thought the best way to get each in good humour, Was to take out the wrinkles of both, by my soul. 'k
So I went to a house where roast meat they provide, sir,
With a whirligig, which up the chimney I spy'd, sir,
Which grinds, all their smoke into powder be-
Then I went to the landlord of all the stnjre-coaches,
When making his mouth up, the basket, says he,
So the same day at night I set out by moon-shine, sir, All alone, by myself, singing Langolee.
S 3 O, lonir O, long life to the moon for a brave noble creature,
That serves us with lamp-light, each night iu
While the sun only shines in the day, which, by
Needs no light at all—as you all may remark;
But as for themoon—by my soul I'll be bound, sir,
It would save the whole nation a great many
pounds, sir, To subscribe for to light her up all the year round, sir, Or 111 never sing more about Langolee.
MAD I a heart for falsehood fram'd,
Your charms would make me true.
No stranger offer wrong;
For when they learn that you have bless'd
Another with your heart,
Nor fear to suffer wrong;
And brothers in the young.
YOUNG Jockey calls me his delight,
His fondness always scorning:
Tho' I my passion smother,
Shou'd he, &c.
A blooming garland, t'other day,
He. brought, 1 own 'twas pleasing,
And wantonly was teasing.
And my own fondness smother,
Shou'd he. think of another?
Shou'd he, &c.
Let prudence he each virgin's guide,
And reason he prevailing; letvuinty be set aside,
Coquetry and railing.
No more my love I'll smother,
And vow to love no other.
And vow, &e.