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By Oppression's woes and pains !
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be, shall be free!
Lay the proud usurper low;
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!

Forward, let us do or die !

SMALILOU. There was an Irish lad,

Who loved a cloistered nun, And it made him very sad,

For what was to be done ?
He thought 'twas a big shame,

A most confounded sin,
That she could not get out at all,

And he could not get in,
Yet he went every day, as he could do nothing

more, Yet he went every day unto the convent door.

And he sung so sweetly,
Smalilou, smalilou, smalilou,
And he sung so sweetly,

Gramachree and Paddy Whack.
To catch a glimpse of her,

He played a thousand tricks, The bolts he tried to stir,

And he gave the wall some kicks. Ho 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, Yet he went ev'ry day, and looked like a fool

Though he sung 80 sweetly, &c. One morn she left her bed,

Because she could not sleep, And to the window sped,

To take a little peep, And what did she do then,

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 bis arms, and so they run away.

And they sung sweetly,
Smalilou, smalilou, smalilou,
And they sung sweetly, smalilou,
Gramachree, and Paddy Whack.

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

give, That health which you barter for ease.

WANDERING WILLIE. Here awa, there awa, wardering Willie,

Here awa, there awa, baud awa hame : Come to my bosom my ain only dearie,

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 Nandie,

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 yessel spreads her swelling sails : Perhaps I never more may view

Your fertile fields, your flowery dales,

→ Delusive hopes can charm no more,

Far from the faithless maid I roam :
Unfriended seek some foreign shore,
Uppitied leave my peaceful home.

Adieu, my native, &c.
Farewell, dear village, oh, farewell !

Soft on the gale thy murmur dies;
I bear thy solemn evening bell,

Thy spirés yet glad my aching eyes,
Though frequent falls the dazzling tear,

I scorn to shrink from fate's decree;
And think not, cruel maid, that e'er
I'd beave another sigh for thee.

Adieu, my native, &c.
In vain through shades of frowning night,

Mine eyes thy rocky coast explore ;
Deep sinks the fiery orb of light,

I view thy beacon, now no more,
- Rise! billows, rise! blow hollow winds ?

Nor night, nor storms, nor death I fear,
Unfriended, bear me hence, to find,
That peace which fate denies me here.

Adieu, my native, &c.


FILL A BUMPER. Come, fill a bumper, and let it go round, Let mirth and good fellowship always abound;

And let the world see

That Free masonry Doth teach honest hearts to be jovial and free. Our lodge now composed of honest free hearts, Tur master most freely his secrets imparts;

And so we improve,

In knowledge and love.
By help from our mighty grand master above,
Let honour and friendsbp eternally reign,
Let each brother mason the truth so maintain,

That all may agree,

That Freemasonry Doth teach honest hearts to be jovial and free. In mirth and good fellowship we will agree, For none are more blest, or more happy than wo,

And this we'll endure,

While our actions are pure,
Kind Heav'n those blessings to us doth insure.


Churchwarden I've been-let me see, very often

You know it's a place of much trust ? And its monstrous fatigues and hardships to soften,

We eat, cry, and drink till we burst. We meets, and we talks about now and consarning

As spokeman, I'm always beginner 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,

A snug little dinner and plenty of booze. At jobs, parish meetings, how oft I've attended,

And talked till I chattered my fill :
How things were so bad that they ought to be

But first, why we swallowed our gill.

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