THE ORIGIN OF THE PATTEN.

CHARLES DIBDIN. For the Opera of the "Milkmaid."
SWEET ditties would my Patty sing:
"Old Chevy-chace," "God save the King;"
"Fair Rosamond," and "Sawney Scott,"
"Li-li-bu-le-ro,” and what not.

All these would sing my blue-ey'd Patty,
As with her pail she trudged along:
While still the burden of her song,

My hammer beat to blue-ey'd Patty.

But nipping frosts, and chilling rain,
Too soon, alas! choked every strain ;
Too soon, alas! the miry way
Her wet-shod feet did sore dismay,

And hoarse was heard my blue-ey'd Patty ;
While I for very mad did cry,

Ah! could I but again, said I,

Hear the sweet voice of blue-ey'd Patty !

Love taught me how; I work'd, I sang;
My anvil glow'd, my hammer rang,
Till I had form'd from out the fire,
To bear her feet above the mire,

An engine for my blue-ey'd Patty.
Again was heard each tuneful close,

My fair one in the patten rose,

Which takes its name from blue-ey'd Patty.

THE UNCOMMON OLD MAN.

From the "Convivial Songster," 1782.

THERE was an old man, and though 'tis not common,
Yet, if he said true, he was born of a woman;
And though 'tis incredible, yet I 've been told
He was once a mere infant, but age made him old.
Whene'er he was hungry, he long'd for some meat,
And if he could get it, 'twas said he would eat;
When thirsty, he'd drink, if you gave him a pot,
And his liquor most commonly ran down his throat.

He seldom or never could see without light,
And yet I've been told he could hear in the night;
He has oft been awake in the day-time, 'tis said,
And has fallen fast asleep as he lay in his bed.

"Tis reported his tongue always moved when he talk'd,
And he stirr'd both his arms and his legs when he walk'd;
And his gait was so odd, had you seen him, you'd burst,
For one leg or t'other would always be first.

His face was the saddest that ever was seen,

For if 'twere not wash'd it was seldom quite clean;
He show'd most his teeth when he happen'd to grin,

And his mouth stood across 'twixt his nose and his chin.

At last he fell sick, as old chronicles tell,

And then, as folks said, he was not very well;

But, what is more strange, in so weak a condition,
As he could not give fees, he could get no physician.

What pity he died! yet 'tis said that his death
Was occasion'd at last by the want of his breath;
But peace to his bones, which in ashes now moulder,
Had he lived a day longer he'd been a day older.

DULCE DOMUM.

SING a sweet, melodious measure,
Waft enchanting lays around;
Home's a theme replete with pleasure!-
Home! a grateful theme, resound!

Home, sweet home! an ample treasure!
Home! with ev'ry blessing crown'd!

Home! perpetual source of pleasure!
Home! a noble strain, resound!

Lo! the joyful hour advances;
Happy season of delight!

Festal songs, and festal dances,

All our tedious toil requite.

Leave, my wearied muse, thy learning,

Leave thy task, so hard to bear;

Leave thy labour, ease returning,

Leave my bosom, all thy care!

See the year, the meadow, smiling!
Let us then a smile display:

Rural sports, our pain beguiling,
Rural pastimes call away.

Now the swallow seeks her dwelling,
And no longer loves to roam;
The example thus impelling,

Let us seek our native home!

Let both men and steeds assemble,

Panting for the wide champaign;
Let the ground beneath us tremble,
While we scour along the plain.

Oh, what raptures! oh, what blisses!
When we gain the lovely gate!
Mothers' arms, and mothers' kisses,
There our blest arrival wait.

Greet our household gods with singing,
Lend, O Lucifer, thy ray;

Why should light, so slowly springing,

All our promised joys delay ?

Founded upon the celebrated song of the Winchester School boys' "Dulce Domum." It first appeared in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for March, 1796, under the signature of J. R.

GLUGGITY GLUG.

From the "Myrtle and the Vine."

A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store,
And he had drunk stoutly at supper;
He mounted his horse, in the night at the door
And sat with his face to the crupper:

Some rogue, quoth the friar, quite dead to remorse,
Some thief, whom a halter will throttle,

Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse,
While I was engaged at the bottle,

Which went gluggity, gluggity-glug―glug―glug.

The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale,

"Twas the friar's road home, straight, and level; But, when spurr'd, a horse follows his nose, not his tail, So he scamper'd due north, like a devil:

This new mode of docking, the friar then said,
I perceive doesn't make a horse trot ill;

And 'tis cheap-for he never can eat off his head,
While I am engaged at the bottle,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity-glug-glug-glug.

The steed made a stop-in a pond he had got,
He was rather for drinking than grazing;

Quoth the friar, 'tis strange headless horses should trot,
But to drink with their tails is amazing!

Turning round to see whence this phenomenon rose,
In the pond fell this son of a pottle;

Quoth he, the head 's found, for I 'm under his nose-
I wish I were over a bottle,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity-glug-glug-glug.

Ne'er have I a clouded face,
Swift I change from place to place,
Ever wand'ring, ever free,
And my name's Variety.

Like a bird that skims the air,

Here and there, and every where,

Sip my pleasures like a bee,
Nothing's like Variety.

Love's sweet passion warms my breast,
Roving love but breaks the rest,
One good heart's enough for me,
Tho' my name's Variety.

Crowded scenes and lovely grove,
All by turns I can approve;
Follow, follow, follow me,
Friend of life, Variety.

THE TURNING OF THE WHEEL.

From the "Convivial Songster."

THE wheel of life is turning quickly round,

And nothing in this world, of certainty is found,
The midwife wheels us in, and death wheels us out,
Good lack! good lack! how things are wheeled about!

Some few aloft on fortune's wheel do go,
And as they mount up high, the others tumble low,
For this we all agree that fate at first did will,
That this great wheel should never once stand still.

The courtier turns to gain his private end,

Till he's so giddy grown, he quite forgets his friend;
Prosperity oft times deceives the proud and vain,
And wheels so fast, it turns them out again.

Some turn to this, and that, and every way,

And cheat, and scrape, for what can't purchase one poor day;

But this is far below the generous hearted man

Who lives, and makes the most of life he can.