'Twas Moll and Bet, and Doll and Kate, and Dorothy Draggletail, And John and Dick, and Joe and Jack, and Humphrey with his fiail. 'Twas John kiss'd Molly,

And Dick kiss'd Betty,

And Joe kiss'd Dolly,

And Jack kiss'd Katty,
And Dorothy Draggletail,

And Humphrey with his flail,

And Kitty was a charming girl to carry the milking pail.

WOULD you choose a wife for a happy life,
Leave the court, and the country take;
Where Susan and Doll, and Nancy and Moll,
Follow Harry and John, whilst harvest goes on,
And merrily, merrily rake.

Leave the London dames, be it spoke to their shames, To lie in their beds till noon;

Then get up and stretch, then paint too and patch,
Some widgeon to catch, then look to their watch,
And wonder they rose up so soon.

Then coffee and tea, both green and bohea,
Is serv'd to their tables in plate;

Where their tattles do run, as swift as the sun,
Of what they have won, and who is undone,
By their gaming and sitting up late.

The lass give me here, though brown as my beer,
That knows how to govern her house;

That can milk her cow, or farrow her sow,
Make butter or cheese, or gather green peas,
And values fine clothes not a sous.

This, this is the girl, worth rubies and pearl;
This is the wife that will make a man rich:
We gentlemen need no quality breed,

To squander away what taxes would pay;
In troth, we care for none such.

JOHNNY AND JENNY.

EDWARD MOORE, born 1712, died 1757.

HE.

LET rakes for pleasure range the town,
Or misers dote on golden guineas;

Let plenty smile or fortune frown,

The sweets of love are mine and Jenny's.

SHE

Let wanton maids indulge desire;

How soon the fleeting pleasure gone is!

The joys of virtue never tire,

And such shall still be mine and Johnny's.

BOTH.

Together let us sport and play,

And live in pleasure where no sin is;

The priest shall tie the knot to-day,

And wedlock's bands make Johnny Jenny's.

SHE.

So Lucy lov'd, and lightly toy'd,

And laugh'd at harmless maids who marry,
But now she finds her shepherd cloy'd,
And chides too late her faithless Harry.

BOTH.

Together still we'll sport and play

And live in pleasure where no sin is;
The priest shall tie the knot to-day,
And wedlock's bands make Johnny Jenny's.

HE.

By cooling streams our flocks we'll feed,
And leave deceit to knaves and ninnies,
Or fondly stray where Love shall lead,
And every joy be mine and Jenny's.

SHE.

Let guilt the faithless bosom fright,
The constant heart is always bonny;
Content, and peace, and sweet delight,
And love, shall live with me and Johnny.

BOTH.

Together still we'll sport and play,

And live in pleasure where no sin is;
The priest shall tie the knot to-day,

And wedlock's bands make Johnny Jenny's.

THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL.

ON Richmond Hill there lives a lass
More bright than May-day morn,
Whose charms all other maids surpass-
A rose without a thorn.

This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet,
Has won my right good-will;
I'd crowns resign to call her mine,
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

Ye zephyrs gay, that fan the air,
And wanton thro' the grove,

Oh! whisper to my charming fair,
I die for her I love.

How happy will the shepherd be

Who calls this nymph his own!

Oh! may her choice be fix'd on me,
Mine's fix'd on her alone.

Mr. Upton who wrote the above song-his Christian name has not descended to posterity-wrote many others for the convivial entertainments at Vauxhall Gardens towards the close of the last century. This song was long popularly ascribed to the Prince of Wales.

From the "Myrtle and the Vine, or Complete Vocal Library," 1800.
GOOD people give attention, while I do sing in praise
Of the happy situation we were in, in former days;
When my father kept a farm, and my mother milked her cow,
How happily we lived then to what we do now.

When my mother she was knitting, my sister she would spin,
And by their good industry they kept us neat and clean;
I rose up in the morning, with my father went to plough,
How happily we lived then to what we do now.

My brother gave assistance in tending of the sheep,
When tired with our labour, how contented we could sleep;
Then early in the morning we again set out to plough,
How happily we lived then to what we do now.