A lawyer begg'd his cause to plead;
Said, if he lik'd each title-deed,

'Twixt Hymen, him, and her, that night
He'd draw indenture tri-partite :
'Come, come,' said she, my man of law,
In your proceedings there's a flaw,-
My goods and chattels you'd convey!
Please to convey yourself away.
You plead in vain,-the trial's pass'd;
You're nonsuited, ejected, cast;
You're ignoramus'd, and thrown out:
Then sue not Madame Vandercrout.
An Irish jolman swore away
He'd love for ever and a day;
And, if she'd him for husband have,
Her lord and master were her slave.
'Paddy, you've made a bull,' cried she;
You want to make a slave of me :
I'm his who for my person seeks;
Sure, en't you Irishmen all Greeks?
Nothing but loss with you I'd gain;
No, never, wid your 'seven's the main,'
'Mongst Pharaoh's host shall fly about
The cash of Madame Vandercrout.'

An auctioneer, a cunning dog,
Of her charms had made a catalogue;
With small talk keeping still a din,
Said he should like to buy her in.
'Indeed,' cried she, by fortune cross'd,
Must I then wed to who bids most;
My person to the hammer brought,
And put up like a scurvy lot?
Be going, sir! lest with a frown,
Without reserve, I knock you down.
'Tis heart for heart, you babbling lout,
Must purchase Madame Vandercrout."
Thus lover after lover came,

The fortune courting, not the dame;
Which fortune rather than enthral,
She vow'd she would not wed at all.
This conduct's given a hundred names:
Some say she drinks, some say she games;
But none have hit the truth,-not one ;-
The fact is, she has married John.
John's tall and comely; and, beside,
She knew him ere her husband died.
And now the hist'ry's fairly out
Of lovely Madame Vandercrout.

But a

for-ty

se-cond foot !' For

larms: As the

The army-surgeons made him limbs ;

Said he, They're only pegs;

But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'

Now Ben, he lov'd a pretty maid,—
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he'd devour'd his pay!

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c.
But when he call'd on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And, when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off:-
'O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform l'

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c.
Said she, 'I lov'd a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave.

Before you had those timber toes,
Your love I did allow ;

But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c.

'O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!

For all your jeering speeches,

At duty's call, I left my legs

In Badajoz's breaches.'

Why then, said she, 'you've lost the feet

Of legs in war's alarms;

And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c. 'O, false and fickle Nelly Gray !

To you, a long farewell;

For though you'll be my death-alas !
You will not be my Nell!

Now, when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got,

And life was such a burden grown,

It made him take a knot!

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c.
So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did entwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the line!

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off, of course
He soon was off his legs.

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c. And there he hung till he was dead

As any nail in town;

For, though distress had cut him up,

It could not cut him down!

A dozen men sat on his corpse,

To find out why he died;

And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, With a stake in his inside!

For Ben he was a soldier bold, &c.

The boatswain swore with wicked words,
Enough to shock a saint,
That, though she did seem in a fit,
'Twas nothing but a feint.

Come, girl,' says he, hold up your head,
He'll be as good as me;

For, when your swain is in the boat,
A boatswain he will be.'

So, when they'd made their game of her,
And taken off her elf,

She rous'd, and found she only was
A-coming to herself.

'And is he gone? and is he gone?'
She cried, and wept outright;
Then I will to the water-side,
And see him out of sight.'

A waterman came up to her :

'Now, young woman,' said he, 'If you weep on so, you'll make Eye water in the sea.'

Alas! they've taken my Beau Ben
To sail with old Benbow;'
And her woe began to run afresh,
As if she'd said, gee-wo.
Says he,They've only taken him
To the tender-ship, you see!'
'The tender-ship!' cried Sally Brown;
What a hard ship that must be !
Oh! would I were a mermaid now,
For then I'd follow him;
But, oh! I'm not a fish-woman,
And so I cannot swim!

Moderato.

'Alas! I was not born beneath
The Virgin and the Scales;
So I must curse my cruel stars,
And valk about in wails.'
Now, Ben had sail'd to many a place
That's underneath the world;
But in two years the ship came home,
And all the sails were furl'd.

But when he call'd on Sally Brown,
To see how she went on,

He found she'd got another Ben,
Whose Christian name was John.
'Oh! Sally Brown,-oh! Sally Brown,
How could you sarve me so?
I've met with many a breeze before,
But never such a blow!'

Then, pond'ring o'er his 'baccy-box,
He heav'd a heavy sigh;

And then began to eye his pipe,
And then to pipe his eye.

And then he tried to sing All's well!
But couldn't, though he tried;
His head was turn'd, and so he chew'd
His pigtail till he died.

His death, which happen'd in his berth,
At forty odd befell:

They went and told the sexton, and
The sexton toll'd the bell.
Now Sal his fun'ral did attend,
With fearful, anxious look;
She waited in the cold churchyard,
Till the parson-shut his book.

-

blems of

happi-ness drawn from a - bove, Those

'Tis here that we find, free from turmoil and strife, The balm of our care and the comfort of life; 'Tis here that within us a feeling doth glow, Which binds us in harmony's bonds here below. 'Tis good thus to spend a few bright sunny hours, Where laurels of peace and goodwill deck the bow'rs; 'Tis good thus to dwell where such scenes do attend, And quaff cups of joy with a really true friend.

em-blems of hap-pi-ness drawn from a -bove.
Then let us be merry, and let us be wise!
The poor and distress'd may we never despise !
But freely and truly rejoice with each other;
And then shall we merit the title of brother.
All hail, happy meeting, right welcome art thou !
All hail to the pleasure that beams on us now!
All hail to the friendship, the truth, and the love,
Those emblems of happiness, drawn from above!

Mary, thy name