THE WATERMAN.

Sung by Mr. Dignum.

IF the man goes but right who follows his nose,
The waterman always goes wrong;
For one way he looks, while another he rows,
And always keeps stroke with a song ;
He'll give you a joke at every stroke,
While his wherry glides smoothly along.
How happy a man might a waterman be
Were his cares to his boat all consign'd!
He never would launch on a troublesome sea,
To disturb the content of his mind;

For when with his bride each stroke's against tide,
It's tugging 'gainst water and wind.

But why shou'd I grieve when I look on my badge ?
When I won it, than Dick, why so merry?
How it drew the black peepers of Wandsworth Madge,
When I stepp'd from my boat at the ferry!

And, bless her black eyes, that stoke won the prize,
She was the first fair in my wherry.

MOVING TO THE MELODY OF MUSIC'S NOTE.

Sung by Miss De Camp in Blue Beard.

MOVING to the melody of music's note,
Observe the Turkish fair advance;
Lightly as the gossamer, she seems to float,
Thro' mazes of the dance:

Sportive is the measure,
Thrilling is the pleasure,

While in merry glee the senses join;

Deeper blushing roses,

Ev'ry cheek discloses,

Eyes with lustre shine.

Chorus-Moving to the, &c.

When the lover takes her glowing hand,
With manly grace and ease;

Can the dancing female then withstand
His gentle squeeze.

No, she gives him then so languishing a glance,
Grown tender, soft, and melting with the dance;
Cupid, Cupid, god of hearts,
Dancing sharpens all your darts.
Chorus-Moving to the, &c.

THE BRITISH ADMIRALS.

Tune-Hearts of Oak.

COME honour, come courage, come glory from far,
Bind the laurel, well won, round the brow of each tar;
Where actions so bold wond'ring nations admire,
Brave Britons are aw'd, not by fear, foes, nor fire.
Hearts of oak, &c.

That vet'ran. brave gallant Howe is his name,
Whose atchievements are wrote in the temple of fame,
The French fleet attack'd, June the first, ninety-four,
Some he sunk, some he burnt, and some made their
own shore.

Hearts of oak, &c.

St. Vincent the bold gave Cordova defeat,

His numbers just half of the Spaniard's proud fleet;
Four ships became prizes, fame spread it afar,
As an act 'yond compare in the annals of war.

Hearts of oak, &c.

Firm Duncan stands next on the heroic

page,

Whom De Winter, the Dutchman, thought fit to en

gage;

Equal numbers in ships, aye,

in

guns

and in men,

When the battle was o'er Duncan brought away ten. Hearts of oak, &c.

The last, tho' not least, fill up bumpers the while,
Fill them high, 'tis a toast to the Man of the Nile,
Brave Nelson by name, who attack'd the French line,
Out of thirteen burnt two, and he captur'd just nine.
Hearts of oak, &c.

With three times three cheers, we our seamen will toast,
'The nation's best pride, the best guards of our coast;
May success crown their efforts wherever they serve,
'Tis our ships and our tars form our national nerve.
Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
They always are ready, steady, boys, steady,
To fight and to conquer again and again.

LITTLE TAFFLINE.

SHOULD e'er the fortune be my lot,
To be made a wealthy bride,

I'll glad my parent's lowly cot,
All their pleasure and their pride:
And when I'm drest,

All in my best,

I'll trip away, like lady gay,

I'll trip, I'll trip away;

And the lads will say, dear heart what a flash,`

Look at Little Taffline with a silken sash.

And oh, what pleasure to be seen,
When the lads at evening meet,
With silken sash, or pink, or green,

Silken roses on my feet;

Now folks will stare as I goes by;

See, see, they'll cry, her flaunting air,
See, see her flaunting air;

And the lads will say, dear heart what a flash,

Look at little Taffline, with a silken sash.

THE YEOMANRY OF ENGLAND.

(ORIGINAL.)

Written by G. S. Carey.

WHEN Gallia strove to spread thro' all this land
The seeds of discord, while insidious strife
In secret corners lurk'd; within each hand

She held, conceal'd, the ghastly murd'rer's knife; Britannia's sons now felt the dire alarms,

And muster'd at the warlike trumpet's sound, In one strong body clad themselves in arms

To save the helpless from the mischiefs round. To arms! to arms! they urg'd, throughout the isle, While fell rebellion urg'd her direful host Religion's sacred altars to defile

With impious hands upon our neighb'ring coast;
The beauteous virgins, here in safety roam,
The aged parents with their offspring bless'd
Protected, solace in their peaceful home,
And on their pillows confidently rest.

Now weave a chaplet, virgins, for each head
Of ev'ry Briton, who, to aid our laws,
And, by a voluntary ardour led,

Stands forth a champion in his country's cause; Who puts on armour for the general good,

Nor yet would wish the polish'd blade to stain, But to prevent the purple stream of blood, And our much-envy'd reign of Peace maintain.! Again our drooping commerce shall revive, And, unmolested, o'er the briny main, Our laden vessels shall with Neptune strive To fill the coffers of this land again. On this fam'd spot, each artisan shall boast, The blessings of his labour, and shall sing Or drink together, in one fervent toast,

The Yeoman brave, his Country, and his King Then let each Briton's motto be,

The Cause and Unanimity!

THE WOOERS.

Translated from Voss, the German Theocritus, by Mr. Beresford.

WITH auburn locks and killing eyes,
A lass tripp'd o'er the mead:
The day declin'd, soft blush'd the skies,
And warblings fill'd the glade.
I nought but her could hear and see,
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,
For ever and for aye by me!

A russet garb with graceful ease
Intwin'd her slender waist;

Her coat and tresses caught the breeze,
And flutter'd as it pass'd:

Her snow-white hose I plain could see.
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,
For ever and for aye by me!

The dappled cow now jogg'd along,
And fill'd her cleanly pail;
And while the maiden milk'd and sung,
I urg'd my tender tale.

Her eyes bespoke soft courtesy.

Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,

For ever and for aye by me!

My tale I told, she deign'd to smile;
In sweet suspense I stood;
Yet durst to steal a kiss the while:
Her cheek with blushes glow'd.
As glow'd the west, so redden'd she.
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,
For ever and for aye by me!