Says I, true, but just after you left it in hobbled Six monstrous geese, and the barley they gobbled; And neighbour you'll own 'tis no new case to find, When a thing's out of sight it soon gets out of mind. THE BANNER OF WAR. Behold the Britannia! how stately and brave For empire designed, o'er the turbulent waves, With glory contends for a part; And the fair cheek of beauty with tears is impearl'd, On the shore how alert, how intrepid the crew, Yet one tear, ere the heroes depart; One sigh should be drawn from the heart; One kiss on the cheek which sweet sorrows impearl'd, When the banner, the banner of war is unfurl'd. Now forth to the conquest, the battle swells high, And fierce round the vessel it roars; · Hark! the sons of Britannia To victory!' cry, And victory sounds to our shores : Then peaceful again to their home, Shall the patriot warriors come; No more the fair cheek shall with tears be impearl'd But the banner of peace be for ever unfurl d. WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T. Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, Whistle o'er the lave o't. How we live, my Meg and I, Whistle o'er the lave o't. Wha I wish were maggot's meat, ENCOMPASSED IN AN ANGEL'S FRAME, Encompassed in an angel's frame, An angel's virtues lay: Too soon did Heaven assert the claim, My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms, Must never more return: What now shall fill these widowed arms? Can I forget that bliss refined, Which blest when her I know? Our hearts in sacred bonds entwined, So pleased when Anna they amused, The soul escaping from its chain, My heart shall breathe its ceaseless strain There with the earliest dawn, a dove There Philomela, lost to love, Tells the pale moon her fate, SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. Of all the girls that are so smart, There's none like pretty Sally: She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There's ne'er a lady in the land, That's half so sweet as Sally, She is the darling of our heart, And she lives in our alley. Her father he makes cabbage nets, To such as please to buy 'em. When she is by, I leave my heart, My master comes like any Turk, Of all the days that're in the week, And that's the day that's comes between For then I'm drest in all my best, To walk abroad with Sally, My master carries me to church, I leave the church in sermon time, She is the darling of my heart, When Christmas comes about again, I'll hoard it up, and box and all, And would it were ten thousand pounds, My master, and the neighbours all, But when my seven long years are out, Oh, then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, But not in our alley. THE BEWILDER'D MAID. Slow broke the light, and sweet breath'd the morn, said. The breeze murmur'd by, when she look'd up forlorn, Hark! hark! didst thou hear-'twas the sigh of the morn; |