Of all the days that 's in the week,
I dearly love but one day!

And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday.

For then I'm dressed, all in my best,
To walk abroad with SALLY!

She is the darling of my heart;
And she lives in our Alley.

My master carries me to Church;
And often I am blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as Text is named.

I leave the Church, in Sermon time,
And slink away to SALLY!

She is the darling of my heart;
And she lives in our Alley.

When Christmas comes about again,
O, then I shall have money!
I'll hoard it up, and Box and all
I'll give it to my Honey!

And would it were Ten Thousand Pounds;

I'd give it all to SALLY!

She is the darling of my heart;

And she lives in our Alley.

My master and the neighbours all,
Make game of me and SALLY;
And (but for her!) I'd better be
A slave, and row a galley!

But when my seven long years are out,
O, then I'll marry Sally!

O, then we'll wed, and then we'll bed;
But not in our Alley!

HARRY CAREY'S GENERAL REPLY

TO THE LIBELLING GENTRY, WHO ARE ANGRY

AT HIS WELFARE.

WITH an honest old friend, and a merry old Song,
And a flask of old Port; let me sit the night long,
And laugh at the malice of those who repine,
That they must swig Porter, while I can drink Wine!

I envy no mortal, though ever so great;
Nor scorn I a wretch, for his low estate!
But what I abhor, and esteem as a curse,
Is poorness of spirit; not poorness in purse!

Then, dare to be generous, dauntless, and gay!
Let's merrily pass life's remainder away!
Upheld by our friends; we our foes may despise !
For the more we are envied, the higher we rise!

A YORKSHIRE SONG.

I AM, in truth, a Country Youth,
Unused to London fashions;
Yet Virtue guides, and still presides
O'er all my steps and Passions.
No courtly leer, but all sincere!
No bribe shall ever blind me!
If you can like a Yorkshire Tike,
An honest man you'll find me!

Though Envy's tongue, with slander hung,
Does oft belie our County;

No men on earth boast greater worth;
Or more extend their bounty!
Our northern breeze, with us agrees;
And does for business fit us!

In public cares, in Love's affairs,
With honour we acquit us!

A noble mind is ne'er confined
To any shire, or nation!

He gains most praise, who best displays

A gen'rous education!

While rancour rolls in narrow souls,

By narrow views discerning;

The truly wise will only prize

Good Manners, Sense, and Learning!

THE FINE LADY'S LIFE,

OR

THE THOUGHTS OF AN AMBITIOUS COUNTRY GIRL

ON THE PLEASURES OF THE TOWN.

WHAT though they call me Country Lass;
I read it plainly in my Glass,
That for a Duchess I might pass!
O, could I see the day!

Would Fortune but attend my call,
At Park, at Play, at Ring, at Ball;
I'd brave the proudest of them all;

With a Stand by! Clear the way!'

Surrounded by a crowd of Beaus,
With smart toupees and powdered clothes;
At rivals I'll turn up my nose!

O, could I see the day!

I'll dart such glances from these eyes,
Shall make some Lord, or Duke, my prize!
And then, O, how I'll tyrannize;

With a 'Stand by! Clear the way!'

O, then for ev'ry new delight,
For equipage and diamonds bright,
Quadrille, and Plays, and Balls, all night!
O, could I see the day!

Of love and joy I'd take my fill!

The tedious hours of life to kill.
In ev'rything I'd have my will;
With a 'Stand by! Clear the way!'

THE ROMP'S SONG.

O, I'LL have a husband! aye, marry!
For why should I longer tarry

Than other brisk Girls have done?

For if I stay till I grow grey,

They'll call me Old Maid, and fusty Old Jade!
So I'll no longer tarry;

But I'll have a husband! aye, marry!
If money can buy me one.

My mother, she says 'I'm too coming!'
And still in my ears she is drumming,

That I such vain thoughts should shun! My sisters, they cry 'O, fie!' and 'O fie!'; But yet I can see, they're as coming as me! So let me have husbands in plenty!

I'd rather have twenty times twenty

Than die an Old Maid undone!