told me that he had a charm To make the pipes prettily speak; Then squeez'd a bag under his arm, And sweet-ly they set up a squeak; With a fa ral la, lal lal la loo och hone! how he handl'd the drone! And then such sweet music he blew, 'Twould have melt- ed the heart of a stone. 'Your pipe,' says I, 'Paddy, so nately comes over me, Naked I'll wander wherever it blows! The music I hear now takes hold of my ear now, Adieu to my family seat, So pleasantly plac'd in a bog. With my fa ral la, lal lal la loo, och hone! Full five years I follow'd him, nothing could sun der us, Till he one morning had taken a sup, And slipp'd from a bridge in a river just under us, Souse to the bottom, just like a blind pup. I roar'd and I bawl'd out, and lustily call'd out, Poor Paddy was laid on the helf; To be sure I have not got the knack, O! JEANNIE GRAY. The Poetry arranged expressly for this work, to an Air by Bellini. Moderato con espres. Ꮎ O! Jeannie Gray, love, Jean - nie Gray, Dost ever think of times, When in early love, dear Jean-nie Gray, We rov'd beneath thy father's vines? I've wan-der'd ma-ny a mile since then, O'er ma-ny a path-less sea; Yet oft my heart does bound again, With thoughts of them and thee. O! Jeannie Gray, love, Jeannie Gray, My heart still lingers there, Where first young love did homage pay, When, hand in hand, we rov'd along, O! Jeannie Gray, &c. O! Jeannie Gray, love, Jeannie Gray, Though weary wandering far I be, To sigh for them, and breathe for thee O! Jeannie Gray, &c. O, Mary, at thy win-dow be,-It is the wish'd, the tryst ed hour; Those took my bon - net aff my head, Quo' I, 'My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird, Is that a tale ye borrow? Or is 't some words ye've learn'd by rote? My heart near bursted fairly, For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie. Dark night came on, the tempest howl'd And whar was't that your prince lay down, But weel I mind the fareweel strain,- ADVERTISEMENT FOR A WIFE. (By a Middle-aged Gentleman).-Arranged expressly for this work, to an Old English Melody. Vivace. Fair ladies, I (being rather shy) Take this means of ap-pri-sing Each I knit no brows, kick up no rows (Though aunt declares I'm whim-med); Some horses prides-I never rides, I'm so uncommon timid. Nor my own merits lauding; Blue, gray, black, brown, or carroty. Those who think better, send by letter AN IRISH DRINKING-SONG. Composed by Charles Dibdin. Did not love a sly sup of good wine. love a sly sup of good wine, Apicius and Esop, as authors assure us, Would swig till as drunk as a beast! Den what do you tink of that rogue Epicurus? Was not he a tight hand at a feast! With your smalliliow, &c. Alexander the Great, at his banquets who drank When he no more worlds could subdue, [hard, Shed tears, to be sure--but 'twas tears of the tankard, To refresh him-and pray would not you? With your smalliliow, &c. Allegretto. WHY TARRIES MY KNIGHT. Why tarries my knight? why tar-ries my own true knight? And why, ye ling'r-ing mo ments, so tedious in your flight? Why tar-ries my knight? why tar-ries my own true knight? And why, ye ling-'ring moments, so te-dious in your flight? I The Words translated from the German of Uhland, and adapted, expressly for this work, to an Air by Andre. Mo-ther! thou didst watch my in- fant eye Drink the ear- liest beam of earth-ly day; And I saw thy cheek, when thou didst die, Light-ed up with heav'n's first morning ray. Mother! thou didst watch my in-fant eye. Drink the ear-liest beam of earth-ly day; And I saw thy cheek, when thou didst die, Light-ed up with heav'n's first morning ray, Light - ed up with heav'n's first morning ray. 18 |