Each fond fairy image flies,

Flies as fades the rapt'rous dream; All, but conscious mem'ry, diesLaura's beauty, and my flame!

WILLY WAS A WANTON WAG.

A favourite Scotch Song.

WILLY was a wanton wag,

The blythest lad that e'er I saw, At bridals still he bore the brag, And carried ay the glee away. His doublet was of Zetland shag, And vow! but Willy he was bra', And at his shoulder hung a tag, That pleas'd the lasses best of a'.

He was a man without a clag,

His heart was frank without a flaw; And ay whatever Willy said,

It was still hadden as a law.
His boots they were made of the jag,

When he went to the weapon shaw ; Upon the green nane durst him brag, The fiend a ane among them a'.

And was not Willy well worth goud? He wan the luve of great and sma'; For after he the bride had kiss'd,

He kiss'd the lasses halesale a'. Sae merrily round the ring they row'd, When by the hand he led them a’; And smack on smack on them bestow'd, By virtue of a standing law.

And was na Willy a great lown,

As shyre a lick as e'er was seen, When he danc'd with the lasses round,

The bridegroom speer'd where he had been? Quoth Willy, I've been at the ring,

With bobbing, faith, my shanks are sair; Gae ca' your bride and maidens in

For Willy he dow do nae mair.

Then rest ye, Willy, I'll go out,
And for a wee fill up the ring;
But shame light on his souple snout,
He wanted Willy's wanton fling.
Then straight he to the bride did sair,
Say's weal's me on your bonny face;
With bobbing, Willy's shanks are sair,
And I'm com'd out to fill his place.

Bridegroom, he says, you'll spoil the dance,
And at the ring you'll ay be lag,
Unless like Willy ye advance;

(O! Willy is a wanton wag:)
For wi't he learns us a' to steer,
And foremost ay bears up the ring:
We will find nae sic dancing here,
If we want Willy's wanton fling.

THE GIPSIES.

Sung By Mrs. Mills and Gipsies.

Tune-Sir Roger de Coverly.

WE Gipsies who live in the wood,
Are merry from morning till night,
And if we don't do any good,

It's because we don't know it by sight;

But we do what we can,

Each woman and each man,

To be merry from morning till might.
To be merry from morning till night.

We know nothing of carding or spinning,
Of sewing we can't do a stitch,
But when on a hedge there is linen,
We know how to give it a twitch;
To keep out of the dirt,

Our caps, our aprons, and shirt,
By handing them over the ditch.
By handing them over the ditch.

While housewives are fuming and fretting,
That the hen has her hatching delay'd,
We save her the trouble of sitting,

And so make the most of our trade.
That good eggs should be addle,
Is merely fiddle faddle;

If you eat'em as soon as they're laid.
If you eat'em as soon as they're laid.

Peter stroll'd by the pigstye and dairy;
For a dinner he felt at a loss;
He jabber'd to Hodge and to Mary,
Of gold that lay hid in the moss.
Oh, then away he jigs,

Faith with two little pigs,

And a pound of fresh butter for sauce.
And a pound of fresh butter for sauce.

We promise you houses and lands,

And plenty of husbands and wives; So you cross but with silver our hands, Ready money most commonly thrives.

So thus without any toil,
Why we make the pot boil,
And that's the delight of our lives.
And that's the delight of our lives.

You give us one bird in the hand,
While we give you two in the bush;
The present we can't understand,
For the future we care not a rush:
Then each merry gipsey,
May laugh and get tipsey.

For the future we care not a rush.
For the future we care not a rush.

PRETTY GOOD PRACTICE.

Sung by Mr. Fawcet in Il Bondocani.

When at school not a fool e'er was I,
For the finger of scorn to be wagg'd at;
So the law, soon I saw best to try,

In hopes to be Cadi of Bagdat.
Soliman Shah was a lawyer good,

And he made me a very fine master,
Ile cheated his clients as fast as he could,
And he taught me to cheat 'em faster.
When at school, &c.

Justice, we know, should be blind as wise,
And in each of the causes I've fagg'd at,
I ne'er cou'd see till a fee opened the eyes
Of the worshipful Cadi of Bagdat.

Yet to be partial I ever was loth,

So my conscience to clear it a fact is,

That when two sides wou'd bribe, I took money

And thought it was pretty good practice.

For when at school, &c.

O LOVE THOU SOURCE OF JOY AND PAIN.

·Sung by Mr. Girton in the Disagreeable Surprise.

O love! thou source of joy and pain,
Beguiling ever, ever vain,
Ever pleasing,

Ever teazing,

The unwary passenger decoys,

First 'cites his hopes, then damps his joys,
Thy transient pleasure but anroys
The mind, and calm content destroys.

OUR COUNTRY IS OUR SHIP, D'YE SEE.

OUR country is our ship, d'ye see!

A gallant vessel, too!

And of his fortune proud is he,

Who's of the Albion's crew.
Each man, what'er his station be,
When duty's call commands,
Should take his stand,

And lend a hand,

As the common cause demands.

Among ourselves, in peace, 'tis true,
We quarrel-make a rout!
And, having nothing else to do,

We fairly scold it out:

But, once the enemy in view,

-we soon are friends;

Shake hands

On the deck,

'Till a wreck,

Each the common cause defends.

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