Fresh blows the pleasing veering gales,
While on the ocean sailing,
Reef topsails reef, set studding sails,
While we're on board regaling;
For tho' the winds incessant blow,
Our duty's done so cheerly,
On deck, up shrouds, above, below,
Here's the girls we love so dearly.

But now our topsails they are bent,
And the mainsheet's boldly flying,
Yeo yea, all hands on board the Kent,
A strange sail we're descrying;
Luff, luff, my lads, the winds abaft,
Our boatswain pipes so cheerly,
While every seaman, fore and aft,
Drinks, the girl he loves so dearly.

BETSEY BOBBIN.

IN love be I fifth button high,
On velvet runs my courting;
Shears, buckram, twist, best broad cloth list,
I leave for others sporting:
From needles, thread, my fancy's fled,

My heart is set a throbbing,

And, no one by, I throbbing sigh,

For charming Betsey Bobbin.

Her lips so sweet are velveret,
Her eyes do well their duty,
Her skin's to me like dimity,
The pattern she's of beauty:

Her hand squeez'd oft' is sattin soft,
And sets my heart a throbbing,
Her cheeks-O dear, red kerseymere,
Lord, what a Betsey Bobbin.

Her roguish smile can well beguile,
Her ev'ry look bewitches;

Yet never stir when tack'd to her,
But Trim will wear the breeches:
I've face and mien, am spruce and keen,
And though my heart keeps throbbing,
There's not, in fine, one man in nine,
So fit for Betsey Bobbin.

FOR A' THAT.

Written by A. Burns.

WHAT tho' on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that,
Cae fools their silk, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that:

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show an' a' that: An honest man, tho' ne'er so poor, Is chief o' man for a' that.

You see yon birkic, ca'd a Lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that,
Tho' hundreds beckon at his nod,
He's but a cuif for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,

His dignities, an' a' that;

A man of independant mind
Can sing an' laugh at a' that.

The King can make a belted Knight,
A Marquis, Duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith he manna fa' that!

An a' that, an a' that,

His garters, stars, an' a' that,

The pith of sense, and wale of worth,
Are better far than a' that.

Then let us pray the time may come,
An' come it will for a' that,
When sense and truth o'er a' the earth
Shall bear the gree for a' that·
For a' that, an' a' that,

An' come it will for a' that;

An' man to man the wide world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

THE ARMY AND NAVY OF BRITAIN FOR EVER. LET sailors and soldiers unite in this cause,

Bound together by honor and loyalty's band;
Both fight for Old England, and cherish her cause,
And give to the King each his heart and his hand :
In this phalanx unite,
Like lions we'll fight,

While no private feuds our interests dissever;
But this be our boast,

And our ultimate toast,

Here's the Army and Navy of Britain for ever.

The sailor who ploughs on the watery main,

To war, and to danger, and shipwreck a brother: And the soldier who firmly stands out the campaign, Do they fight for two men who make war on each other?

O no-tis well known,
The same loyal throne

Fires their bosoms with ardour and noble endeavour; And that each with his lass,

As he drinks a full glass,

Toasts the Army and Navy of Britain for ever.

That their cause is but one, and they both can unite
Needs no other example than this to be seen;
Who is bolder in danger, experter in fight,

Than the maritime soldier, the honest marine :
He pulls and he hauls,

He fights 'till he falls,

And from fore-tack or musquet he never will waver; But when the fray's o'er,

With his Dolly on shore,

Drinks the Army and Navy of Britain for ever.

What matters it who braves the globe or the surge? Yet if there's a contest about either station,

Let that stimulus glory and loyalty urge,

Who will stand the most firm to the King and the Nation:

While thus we agree,

Let's fight and be free,

Shall Britons 'gainst Britons draw daggers-O never! Make the Sans Culottes fly,

And let fame rend the sky,

With the Navy and Army of Britain for ever.

CHICKA.

Sung by Miss Sims in Doll of Wapping.

Tune-Sailor Boy capering.

CHICKA lik' a sailor man,

Tom like'a Chicka too;
He come home, he shakee hand,
And me say-How d'ye do?

Tom no to Ningland go,

Doll nibber come so far-den
Ickle Chicka happy squaw,
Wid a jolly tar!

Tom shoot a cockatoo,
Chicka put him in a pot-
Tom fill a wamessou,

And puxa till he hot:

Him call for grog, a ho!

Me drinka swipe galore;-hee-hee!
Ickle Chicka happy squaw,

Wid a jolly tar.

But, Doll o'Wapping if she dead,
Chicka den a Ningland goes-

Yellow fedder on a head,

And silber at ee nose;

Gold ring on ebery toe,

Blue cheek and shinee hair-O la!

Ickle Chicka pretty squaw,

For a jolly tar.

HOT SPICE GINGERBREAD.

Sung by Mr. Knight in Harlequin and Oberon.

COME boys and girls, men and maids, widows and wives;

The best penny lay out you e'er spent in your lives;
Here's my whirligig lottery, a-penny a-spell,
No blanks, but all prizes, and that's pretty well;
Don't stand humming and haking with ifs and with buts,
Try your luck for my round and sound gingerbread nuts;
And then there's my glorious spice gingerbread too,
Hot enough to thaw even the heart of a Jew,
Hot spice gingerbread! hot!

Come, buy my spice gingerbread, smoaking hot.