What pleasure we feel in pursuing the fox!
O'er hill, and o'er valley, he flies:
Then follow; we'll soon overtake him-huzza!
The traitor is seiz'd on, and dies.
Triumphant returning at night with the spoil,
Like Bachanals, shouting and gay,
How sweet with a bottle and lass to refresh,
And lose the fatigues of the day!
With sport, love and wine, fickle fortune defy
Dull wisdom all happiness sours:
Since life is no more than a passage, at best,
Let's strew the way over with flow'rs.
NO mair ye bonny lasses gay,
Your blithsome sonnets now display,
For Jem of Aberdeen,
But join your voices now with me,
And as we gang along the Lee,
Sing Jockey of the Green.
His locks like ony sun-beams play,
When Phoebus gilds the first of May,
His ruddy face is seen,
And then he trips with sic a grace,
All other lads to him give place,
Sweet Jockey of the Green.
At kirk he says he'll take my
Who can his bonny suit withstand,
He smiles sa sweet I ween:
I vow my heart cannot deny,
Wi' his kind wish I shall comply,
My Jockey of the Green.
Composed and Dedicated to Mrs. E. Henslow.
BEAUTEOUS image smile with pleasure,
Covering nature's placid face;
Open all your glittering treasure,
And with this shew ev'ry grace.
Hills on hills with verdure flowing,
Prospects which allure the sight;
Clouds no more obscure their glowing,
But the whole returns to light.
Asia's fragrance here unfolded,
Riches endless brings to view,
On the face of nature molded,
Peace and every object new.
Mantling o'er the warbling current,
Flowers of beauty bend their bow, While the trav❜ler still on errant Embrace the stream, and prostrate low.
Bending in travail the treasure
Of the summer's bounteous care, Chears the captive beyond measure, And music wakes the silent air.
If we look around the mountains
Treasures there we now behold;.
Silvers issues from the fountains,
And the scattering rains are gold.
THE JOYS OF MARRIAGE.
(ORIGINAL.)
Written by Mr. Upton, and Sung by Mr. Dignum.
THE MUSIC BY MR. SANDERSON.
I ONCE lov'd a maid, and she lov'd me again,
And truly our bliss knew no measure;
So marry'd we were, then bliss turn'd to pain,
Tho' marriage they say is a pleasure.
Yes, but the comforts to me were deny'd,
For Fanny, before so kind hearted,
Ran off with a Captain, to humble my pride,
So Fanny and I are now parted.
Six weeks and a day we were wedded 'tis true,
And scarcely the honey-moon over;
When Fanny the fond, from her benedict flew,
And transferr'd her love to another.
Yet, this I confess was the least of the strife,
(So tender was she, and kind hearted,)
Ten thousand in debt, I was left by my wife,
Ere Fanny and I was once parted.
Doctors Commons at last put an end to my grief,
Where things for a time rather tarry'd,
Till fortune good-naturedly granted relief,
And Fanny and I were-unmarry'd.
And if I e'er venture on wedlock again,
Or trust to a woman false-hearted,
May she prove a jilt, and to heighten my pain,
May she and I never be parted.
CALEB QUOTEM.
I'M parish clerk and sexton here:
My name is Caleb Quotem :
I'm painter, glazier, auctioneer;
In short, I am factotem.
I make a watch I mend the pumps:
For plumber's wor ༞ knack is:
I physic sell-I cure the mumps;
I tombstones cut—I cut the rumps
Of little school-boy Jackies.
Geography is my delight;
Ballads Epitaphs I write;
Almanacks I can indite;
Graves I dig, compact and tight:
At dusk by the fire, like a good jolly cook,
When my day's work is done, and all over,
I tipple, I smoke, and I wind up the clock,
With my sweet Mrs. Quotem, in clover.
With my amen, gaymen,
Rum Quotem,
Factotum;
Putty and lead;
Stumps, mumps;
Bumps, rumps,
Mortar he thumps;
Signy-post daubery,
Split-crow, or strawberry,
Chimery, rhimery,
Liquorish, stickorish,
Chizzle tomb,
Frizzle tomb,
Going, a-going!
Squills, pills,
Song inditing, epitaph writing, Steeple sound, corpse to ground: Windsor soap, physick the pope; Home hop, shut up shop; Punch-bowl crockery, wind up clockery. Many small articles make up a sum; dabble in all-I'm merry and rum;
And 'tis heigho! for Caleb Quotem, O!
LORD NELSON'S RETURN FROM THE NILE.
AT my ditty, I'm certain, each Briton will smile,
For it tells of a hero return'd from the Nile;
Where, like MARLBRO' SO CFuel ('tis sung by Old
Wives)
"He beat those who had never been beat in their lives." Derry down, &c.
In Toulon long time did Monsieur chuse to be,
Tho' he ne'er stays in port but when we are at sea;
Then swears we shan't beat him, and swears very right,
For his way to prevent it is-never to fight.
At Malta they touch'd, and they took it, good lack!
Just to give us the trouble of taking it back:
Little thinking the prelude it prov'd to their LOSSES,
And that Malta to them wou'd produce only CROSSES.
Derry down, &c.
At Aboukir, they haul'd up so close on the strand, They swore NELSON shou'd ne'er get 'twixt them and
Says the Tar, " "Tisn't manners to give folks the lie, It may be I can't, but by jingo I'll try."
After toil, danger, conquest, and glory you view,
The Hero return'd who succeeded for you;
What lustre your smiles on the Tar must reflect,
Who a Country like this could defend and protect.
Derry down, &c.
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