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SONGS FROM "THE JOVIAL CREW,

1731.

She was not coy!
She would laugh and toy;
Yet preserved her virgin fame!
She was her father's only joy;
And every Shepherd's flame.

Though many strove,

Yet none could move,
Till STREPHON, young and gay,
Inspired her soul with virtuous love;

And stole her heart away!

THOUGH women, 'tis true, are but tender;

Yet Nature does strength supply! Their will is too strong to surrender!

They're obstinate still, till they die ! In vain, you attack them with reason ;

Your sorrows you only prolong! Disputing is always High Treason ;

No woman was e'er in the wrong! Your only relief is to bear!

And when you appear content, Perhaps, in compassion, the Fair

May persuade herself into consent!

THE mind of a woman can never be known !

You never can guess it aright!
I'll tell you the reason !--She knows not her own;
It changes so often ere night!

'Twould puzzle APOLLO,

Her whimseys to follow;
His oracle would be a jest !
She'll frown, when she 's kind;
Then, quickly you'll find
She'll change with the wind;

And often abuses
The man that she chooses ;
And what she refuses,

Likes best!

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THERE was an old fellow at Waltham Cross,
Who merrily sung, when he lived by the loss !
He cheered up his heart, when his goods went to rack,
With a 'Hem! Boys! Hem !' and a cup of old Sack.

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Ar night, by moonlight, on the plain,

With rapture have I seen,
Attended by her harmless Train,

The little Fairy Queen,
Her midnight Revels sweetly keep!
While mortals are involved in sleep,

They tripped it o'er the Green!

And where they danced their cheerful Round,

The morning would disclose!
For where their nimble feet do bound,

Each flower unbidden grows !
The daisy, fair as Maids in May,
The cowslip, in his gold array,

And blushing violet, 'rose !

'Did our sighing Lovers know
What a pain we undergo ;
Sweeter would their wooing prove!
Shorter were the way to Love!
Unkind commands, when they obey,
We suffer more, much more, than they!
And to rebel, were kinder still;
Than to obey (against our will)!'

STELLA AND FLAVIA.

STELLA and FLAVIA, ev'ry hour,

Unnumbered hearts surprise.
In STELLA's soul lies all her power;

And Flavia's, in her eyes.

More boundless Flavia's conquests are;

And STELLA's more confined.
All can discern a face that 's fair ;

But few, a lovely mind.

STELLA, like Britain's Monarch, reigns

O'er cultivated lands:
Like Eastern tyrants, Flavia deigns

To rule o'er barren sands.

Then boast, fair Flavia! boast your face!

Your beauty's only store.
Your charms will ev'ry day decrease !

Each day gives STELLA more!

THE COBBLER'S END.

A COBBLER there was, and he lived in a stall ;
Which served him for Parlour, for Kitchen, and Hall.
No coin in his pocket, nor care in his pate;
No ambition had he, nor duns at his gate.

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

Contented he worked, and he thought himself happy, If, at night, he could purchase a jug of brown Nappy. He'd laugh then, and whistle, and sing too most

sweet, Saying, Just to a hair, I've made both ends meet!'

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

But Love, the disturber of high and of low,
That shoots at the Peasant as well as the Beau,
He shot the poor Cobbler quite through the heart!
I wish he had hit some more ignoble part !

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

It was from a cellar this archer did play,
Where a buxom young damsel continually lay.
Her eyes shone so bright, when she rose every day,
That she shot the poor Cobbler, quite over the way.

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

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