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By Oppression's woes and pains !
There was an Irish lad,
Who loved a cloistered nun,
That she could not get out at all,
And he could not get in.
Yet he went every day, as he could do nothing
Yet he went every day unto the convent door.
And he sung so sweetly,
To catch a glimpse of her,
And he gave the wall some kicks. He stamped and raved and sighed and pray'd, And many times he swore,
The devil burn the iron bolts,
The devil take the door.
Yet he went every day, he made it a rule,
One morn she left her bed,
I'm sure you'll think it right, She bad the honest lad good day, She bad the nuns good night. Tenderly she listened to all he had to say, Then jump'd into his arms, and so they run away. And they sung sweetly, Smalilou, smalilou, smalilou,
And they sung sweetly, smalilou,
HARK THE LOUD TUNING HORN.
Hark! the loud tuning horn bids the sportsman prepare,
And the hounds woo him forth to the lawn;
The huntsman proclaims that the morning is fair, And Aurora with red streaks the dawn.
With pleasure he hearkens to the heart sounding cheer,
Shakes Morpheus and slumber away,
While joyful he starts, and with speed doth appear, The foremost to welcome the day.
While his pleasure full glowing enlivens his face, And the hounds in full concert rejoice.
From the sportsman, ye drones, you may learn how to live,
Exempted from pain or disease;
He'll shew that the fields and the meadows will
That health which you barter for ease.
Here awa, there awa, wardering Willie,
Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e, Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.
Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wanken, ye breezes! row gently ye billows!
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. But, oh, if he's faithless, and mind nae his Nannie, Flow still between us, thou wide roaring main! May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!
ADIEU, MY NATIVE LAND, ADIEU. Adieu, my native land, adieu!
The vessel spreads her swelling sails: Perhaps I never more may view
Your fertile fields, your flowery dales.
Delusive hopes can charm no more,
Farewell, dear village, oh, farewell!
Thy spires yet glad my aching eyes,
In vain through shades of frowning night,
I view thy beacon, now no more.
That peace which fate denies me here.
FILL A BUMPER.
Come, fill a bumper, and, let it go round,
Doth teach honest hearts to be jovial and free. Our lodge now composed of honest free hearts, Our master most freely his secrets imparts;
And so we improve,
By help from our mighty grand master above.
Let honour and friendshp eternally reign,
Doth teach honest hearts to be jovial and free.
In mirth and good fellowship we will agree,
While our actions are pure,
Kind Heav'n those blessings to us doth insure.
THE VESTRY DINNER.
Churchwarden I've been-let me see, very often
We meets, and we talks about now and consarning
But never so pleased as to give out this warning, Next Monday's a vestry dinner.
And none but an ill foul mouth'd fellow abuse,
How things were so bad that they ought to be
But first, why we swallowed our gill.