THE COBBLER'S END. A COBBLER there was, and he lived in a stall; Contented he worked, and he thought himself happy, If, at night, he could purchase a jug of brown Nappy. He'd laugh then, and whistle, and sing too sweet, too most Saying, 'Just to a hair, I've made both ends meet!' Derry down, down, down, derry down. But Love, the disturber of high and of low, It was from a cellar this archer did play, He sang her Love Songs, as he sat at his work; But she was as hard as a Jew, or a Turk. Whenever he spake, she would flounce and would fleer; Which put the poor Cobbler quite into despair. Derry down, down, down, derry down. He took up his awl that he had in the world; And to make away with himself was resolved! He pierced through his body, instead of the sole. So the Cobbler he died; and the bell it did toll. Derry down, down, down, derry down. And now, in good will, I advise as a friend, past, That love brings us awl to an end at the last. THE LONDON LASS. WHAT though I am a London Dame, I carry, sure, as good a name As those who russet wear a! What though my clothes are rich brocade; Than any of the Country Maids, That in the field delight a! What though I to Assemblies go, My Pekoe and Imperial Tea The Evening then does me invite To play at dear Quadrille a: And, sure, in this, there's more delight Than in a purling rill a! Then, since my fortune does allow Nor press his coming cheese a! But take my swing, both night and day; And as for what the grave ones say, I SAID to my heart, between sleeping and waking, 'Thou wild thing! that always art leaping, or aching! What Black, Brown, or Fair, in what clime, in what nation, By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation?' Thus accused; the wild thing gave this sober reply: 'When our SAPPHO appears, she whose wit so refined 'PRUDENTIA as vainly would put in her claim; 'But CLOE So lively, so easy, so fair! Her wit so genteel, without art, without care! When she comes in my way, the motion, the pain, The leapings, the achings, return all again!' O, wonderful creature! a woman of reason! Never grave out of pride; never gay out of season! When so easy to guess, who this angel should be, Would one think Mrs. HOWARD ne'er dreamt it was she? CONSTANCY. How firmly fixed, I thought my heart, When PHYLLIS first I knew; So deep the wound, so sharp the dart, I must be ever true! Such dazzling charms her glances shot! Her eyes, such pointed rays! I sighed; and wished it were my lot Eternally to gaze! Long did I serve the gentle Dame, PASTORA seized my heart with joy; I thought BELINDA was divine, |