Sure, sure, then, a man was ne'er so put on, Heigho, sighed Dicky! For, in her kick-ups, one day, not caring a button, Thump him, and smash him, O, dear, for poor little Dicky! Her tongue, after this, she never wagged, Heigho, for Dicky! For she soon to the prison for murder was dragged, And her tongue's haranguing, Thus ended the doxy of Dicky! NOTHING LIKE SNUFF. TUNE, Home, sweet Home.' In this life there is joy, in this life there is care, Snuff! snuff! good black snuff! There's no snuff like black snuff, Then grant me good snuff, there I taste no alloy, 1440 Snuff! snuff! &c. B IT IS MATORY SONGS. NO! WE NEVER MENTION HER. - no! we never mention her om sport to sport they hurry me, d when they win a smile from me, They think that I forget. ney bid me seek in change of scene, ney tell me she is happy now- ut if she loves as I have loved, NOT FOR THINE EYE OF BLUE not for thine eye of blue, Nor for thy cheek of rosy hue, Nor for thy lovely bosom fair, That I do love thee; for to me, There are far brighter charms in thee! But it is for thy gentle mind, Thy placid and expansive brow, Imagination, mild and kind, Which burns with clear, and fervid glow, That I do love thee; and I see, A thousand matchless charms in thee! THE kiss, dear maid, thy lips have left, Till happier hours restore the gift The parting glance that fondly gleams, The tear that from the eyelid streams The kiss, &c. I ask no pledge to make me blest, Nor one memorial for a breast, Whose thoughts are all thine own. Must bear the love it cannot show, And silent ache for thee. MEET ME BY MOONLIGHT. MEET me by moonlight alone, Must be told by the moonlight alone, I would show the night flowers their queen, Nay; turn not away thy sweet head, "T is the loveliest ever was seen Oh! meet, &c. Daylight may do for the gay, The thoughtless, the heartless, the free; But there's something about the moon's ray, That is sweeter to you and to me. Oh! remember be sure to be there, For though dearly a moonlight I prize, I care not for all in the air, If I want the sweet light of your eyes. AMELIA BIRD. TUNE,- Oh no! we never mention her.' Он! yes, I love to mention her, I do upon my word! I'm only happy when I speak Of Miss Amelia Bird. It, in the fields near Primrose hill, I saw and lov'd, and first did speak I ask'd her if she in the fields Saw charms that others see; Said she I live at Hampstead now, My father keeps a good milch cow, Said she, I do prefer the whey-' But what than that much more I love, She soon confess'd a mutual flame But worth, I think, a sovereign Although I'm far from Hampstead now, And do not see her nor the cow, But, perhaps, like me, she may be here, www. THE FARMER'S DAUGHTER. WHERE are you going my pretty maid? |