Chance if again it sends that sort,.
Let's hope I've had my share,
Though thus bold tars, &c.

Scarce with these words I'd outed,

Glad for my eyes and limbs,

When a cartridge burst, and douted

Both my two precious glims;
Well, then they're gone! I cry'd, in short,
Yet, fate my life did spare,

And thus, though tars, &c.

I'm blind, and I'm a cripple,

Yet cheerfully would sing,
Were my disasters triple,

'Cause why?"Twas for my king::

Besides each Christian's exhort,

Pleas'd, will some pity spare;

And thus though tars are fortune's sport,
They still are fortune's care.

JACK BLOCK..

WHEN I came back to bonny Shadwell Dock,
In my feathers and jacket so airy,

How the girls did stare at their friend Jack Block..
With his chip chow, cherry chow,
Rolty, ulty, ilty, row,
Rowdy, olty, oh!

When with buxom Poll, at the anchor so blue,
I call'd for a bowl of rumbo,

Says she, Jack your health! says I, here's to you!!
With my chip chow, &c.

The purser he look'd at me very big,

And to Poll threw his loving palaver,

But the rumbo I threw o'er his white chissel'd wig.. With my chip chow, &c.

His pipe being broke, oh! damn it how he stares;
Says he, you must ask my pardon;

Says I, with all my heart, so I kick'd him down stairs.
With my chip chow, &c.

Then says Poll, O Jack! treat me to the play,
We're so fine let us go to the boxes.

I like a box, says I; so I tripp'd it away.
With my chip chow, &c.

Oh! then the jack-a-dandies clapp'd and encor'd,
Wip'd the boots on the ladies aprons;
Silence! says I; and very loudly I roar'd.
With my chip chow, &c..

The link-boy he lighted us clean in the mud,
There he finger'd our pockets so neatly;
With, your honour take care,-Oh! damn his young
blood:

And his chip chow, &c.

Let us drink a health to little England;"

To great George, and good Queen Charlotte,
May our seamen always the ocean command.
And the chip chow, &c.

A HUNTING SONG.

WHEN Phoebus begins just to peep o'er the hills,
With horns we awaken the day,

And rouze brother sportsmen who sluggishly sleep,
With hark! to the woods, bark away!

See the hounds are uncoupled in musical cry,
How sweetly it echoes around;

And high-mettled steeds with their neighing all seem
With pleasure to echo the sound.

Behold where sly Reynard, with panic and dread,
At distance o'er hillocks doth bound;

The pack on the scent fly with rapid career,
Hark! the horns! O how sweetly they sound!

Now on the chace, o'er hills and o'er dales,

All dangers we nobly defy;

Our nags are all stout, and our sports we'll pursue, With shouts that resound to the sky.

But see how he lags, all his arts are in vain,
No longer with swiftness he flies;

Each hound in his fury determines his fate,
The traitor is seiz'd on and dies.

With shouting and joy we return from the field,
With drink crown the sports of the day;
Then to rest we recline, till the horn calls again,
Then away to the woodlands, away.

A FREE-MASON'S SONG.

COME, let us prepare,
We brothers that are
Assembled on merry occasion ;.
Let's drink, laugh, and sing,
Our wine has a spring;
Here's a health to an accepted mason

'The world is in pain
Our secret to gain,

But let them still wonder and gaze on;

Till they're shewn the light,

They'll ne'er know the right

Word or sign of an accepted mason.

"Tis this, and 'tis that,
They cannot tell what,
Why so many great men in the nation.

Should aprons put on,

To make themselves ene

With a free and an accepted mason,

Great kings, dukes, and lords
Have laid by their swords,
Our myst❜ry to put a good grace on;
And ne'er been asham'd,

To hear themselves nam'd
With a free and an accepted mason.

Antiquity's pride

We have on our side,'

It makes each man just in his station;
There's nought but what's good,
To be understood

By a free and an accepted mason.

We're true and sincere,
We're just to the fair,
They'll trust on ev'ry occasion;

No mortal can more,

The ladies adore,

Than a free and an accepted mason.

Then join hand in hand,

To each other firm stand,

Let's be merry, and put a bright face on;
No mortal can boast

So noble a toast,

As a free and an accepted mason.

TO-MORROW; OR, THE PROSPECT.

Tune-With my Jug in one Hand.

IN the downhill of life when I find I'm reclining, May my fate no less fortunate be!

Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;

With an ambling pad poney to pace o'er the lawn,
While I carol away idle sorrow;

And blythe as the lark that each day hails the dawn,
Look forward with hope for to-morrow:

With a porch at my door both for shelter and shade too, As the sunshine or rain may prevail,

And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too, With a barn for the use of the flail;

A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,

And a purse when my friend wants borrow;

I'd envy no nabob his riches or fame,

Or the honours that wait him to-morrow.

From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely

Secur'd by a neighbouring hill;

And at night may repose steal on me more sweetly,
By the sound of a murmuring rill;

And while peace and plenty I find at my board,
With a heart free from sickness and sorrow;
With my friends will I share what to-day may afford,
And let them spread the table to-morrow.

And when I at last must throw off this frail covering,
Which I've worn for years threescore and ten;
On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hovering,
Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again:

But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey,

And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow ; As this worn-out old stuff which is threadbare to-day, May become everlasting to-morrow.