For what's the use of sighing,
When time is on the wing;
Can we prevent its flying?
Then merrily let us sing-Fal la.
Come on ye rosy hours,

Gay smiling moments bring,
We'll strew the path with flowers,
And merrily merrily sing-Fal la.

NORWICH A PORT.

Air-" Our Country is our ship."

OLD Norwich is our Ship d'ye see,

A gallant vessel too,

And of his fortune proud be he

Who's of Norvicum's crew:
Each man whate'er his station be,

When duty's call commands,

Shall take his stand-and lend a hand,

As our City's Cause demand.

Shall take, &c.

Amongst ourselves sometimes 'tis true,

We quarrel, make a rout,

And having nothing else to do,
We fairly scold it out;

But once a Sea Port* in our view,
Shake hands-we all are friends,
Then on the deck, until a wreck,
Each our City's Cause defends.

J. M.

Then on the deck, &c.

Our enemies in Parliament

'Defeated were at last,

And when their Lordships said "Content,"
They stood like men aghast :

Then let us praise King George the Fourth,
Who gave the last decree,

We've lost all fears---then give three cheers
For Lowestoft on the Sea.

We've lost all fears, &c.

The Plan of making Norwich a Port was first submitted to the Corporation by the late Alderman-Crisp Brown, Esq. (the Originator of the measure) on the 3rd of May, 1814. The Royal assent was given on the 28th of May, 1927.

We've work'd like Cyclops since that hour,
Our Lock and Bridge are made,
And by the aid of skill and power,
Our ships will sail and trade :
The Lady of the Lake* must yield
To Neptune's fond embrace;
Their union soon will prove a shield
To save a hardy race.

Their union soon, &c.

WE MAY ROAM THRO' THIS WORLD.

T. Moore. WE may roam thro' this world like a child at a feast, Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest, And when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east, We may order our wings, and be off to the west; But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, Are the dearest gifts that heaven supplies, We never need leave our own Green Isle,

For sensitive hearts and for sun-bright eyes.

Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, [ roam,
Thro' this world whether eastward or westward you
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
O! remember the smile which adorns her at home.

In England, the garden of Beauty is kept

By a Dragon of Prudery, plac'd within call;
But so oft this unamiable Dragon has slept,

That the garden's but carelessly watch'd, after all.
Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence,
Which round the flowers of Erin dwells,

Which warns the touch while winning the sense,
Nor charm us least when it most repels.
Then remember wherever your goblet is crown'd,[roam,
Thro' this world whether eastward or westward you
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home.

In France when the heart of a woman set sail,

On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try,

Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,

But just pilots her off, then bid her good bye!

• Lake Lothing, which when united with the sea at Lowestoft, will become an excellent Harbour of Refuge for Merchant ships.

While the daughters of Erin keep the dear Boy,
Ever smiling beside his faithful oar,

Thro' billows of woe and beams of joy,

The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, [roam, Thro' this world whether eastward or westward you When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home.

DEATH OR LIBERTY.

WHILE happy in my native land,
I boast my country's charter,
I'll never basely lend my hand,
Her liberties to barter.

The noble mind is not at all
By poverty degraded;

'Tis guilt alone can make us fall,
And well I am persuaded,

Each free-born Briton's song should be,
"Oh give me death or liberty."

Tho' small the pow'r which fortune grants,
And few the gifts she sends us;
The lordly hireling often wants

That freedom which defends us.
By law secur'd from lawless strife,
Our house is our castellum:
Thus bless'd with all that's dear in life,
For lucre shall we sell them?
No!-ev'ry Briton's song shall be,
“Oh give me death or liberty.”

DEAR LIBERTY.

How often will proud mem'ry trace,
When I, the last of Calmar's race,
Inheriting my native land,

Beheld enslav'd a hapless band;

Who slow and sullen bent their stubborn knee, And sigh'd for heav'n's best boon, dear Liberty!

Oppression's son's," I cried, "you're free; I come to give you liberty.".

Awhile amaz'a 'tween hope and fear,
Dubious the silent crowd appear,

Then shouts of joy proclaim, "We're free,
Hail sweetest boon of Heav'n, dear Liberty."

Thus freedom, with heroic fire,

Can e'en degenerate minds inspire;
Science her glorious call attends,
Valour her darling son defends;

Freedom by force o'ercome shall never be :
Hail sweetest boon of Heav'n, dear Liberty!

ENGLAND FOR EVER-THE LAND BOYS WE LIVE IN.

SINCE Our foes to invade us have long been preparing,
Tis clear they consider we've something worth sharing,
And for that mean to visit our shore:

It behoves us, however, with spirit to meet 'em,
And though 'twill be nothing uncommon to beat 'em,
We will try how they'll take it once more.

So fill, fill your glasses; be this the toast given,
Here's England for ever—the land boys, we live in.

Here's a health to our tars on the wide ocean ranging,
Perhaps even now some broadsides are exchanging,
We'll on shipboard and join in the fight;
And when with the foe we are firmly engaging,
'Till the fire of our guns lulls the sea in its raging,
On our country we'll think with delight.

So fill, fill, &c.

On that throne where once Alfred in glory was seated,
Long, long may our King by his people be greeted,
Oh! to guard him we'll be of one mind:
May Religion, Law, Order be strictly defended,
And continue the blessings they first were intended,
In union the nation to bind.

So fill, fill, &c.

POOR JACK.

Dibdin.

Go patter to lubbers and swabs, d'ye see,
'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;
A tight water-boat and good sea room give me,
And it an't to a little I'll strike;

Though the tempest, top-gallant-masts smack smooth

should smite,

And shiver each splinter of wood,

[tight,

Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bouze every thing
And under reef-foresail we'll scud :

Avast, nor don't think me a milksop so soft,
To be taken for trifles aback;

For, they say, there's a Providence sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

Why, I heard our good chaplain palaver, one day,
About souls, heaven, mercy, and such;
And, my timbers! what lingo he'd coil and belay,
Why, 'twas just all as one as high Dutch!
But he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see,
Without orders that come down below;

And many fine things, that proved clearly to me
That Providence takes us in tow;

For, says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft
Take the top-sails of sailors aback,

There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

I said to our Poll, for, you see, she would cry,
When last we weighed anchor for sea,
What argufies snivelling and piping your eye,
Why, what a young fool you must be !

Can't you see, the world's wide, and there's room for us all,

Both for seamen and lubbers a-shore;

And if to old Davy I should go, my dear Poll,
Why you never will hear of me more:

What then, all's a hazard,-come, don't be so soft,
Perhaps I may, laughing, come back;

For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.