O! CHARLIE is my darling,
My darling, my darling;
O! Charlie is my darling,
The young chevalier.

"Twas on a Monday morning,
Right early in the year,
When Charlie came to our town,
The young chevalier.

O! Charlie is my darling, &c.

As he came marching up the street,
The pipes play'd loud and clear,
And a' the folk came running out
To meet the chevalier.

O! Charlie is my darling, &c. Wi' Highland bonnets on their heads, And claymores bright and clear, They came to fight for Scotland's right, And the chevalier. young

O! Charlie is my darling, &c. They've left their bonnie Highland hills, Their wives and bairnies dear, To draw the sword for Scotland's lord, The young chevalier.

O! Charlie is my darling, &c.

O! there were monie beating hearts,
And monie hopes and fears;
And monie were the prayers put up
For the young chevalier.

O Charlie is my darling, &c.

Wi' highland bonnet on his head,
And claymore long and clear,
He came to fight for Scotland's right
My brave cavalier.

O Charlie is my darling, &c.

........

THE JOVIAL SONS OF JOVE.
(Frome.)

WHEN Heav'n, to soften human care,
Bade Pity sympathize with Woe,
That Sorrow's child should fortune share,
Friendship bestow'd on man below,
Whose balm dispelling ev'ry grief,
Brought to the aching soul relief;
T' inspire the jest-create the smile,
Gay Momus reach'd our wave-bound isle,
Proclaiming loud the thund'rer's love,
To bless with mirth the sons of Jove.
As Bacchus rais'd the gen'rous vine,

As Vulcan form'd the sparkling bowl,
Apollo struck the lyre divine,

And music's charms inspir'd the soul:
Through heav'n was heard the sacred sound,
From heav'n the pleasing notes rebound;
When Harmony arriv'd at earth,
By Wit inspir'd, to Song gave birth,
And Love his choicest chaplets wove,
To deck the fav'rite sons of Jove.

In peals of thunder swell the sound,
Echo the mandate as it floats,
Louder th' enchanting theme resound,

And catch the mirth-inspiring notes.
Sacred to Harmony and Love,
Inspir'd by Friendship and by Jove,
Our bowls with nect'rous vigour flow,
Our bosoms share the mutual glow;
While Mirth, descending from above,
Hails us the jovial sons of Jove.

MEMBERS OF OUR SOCIETY.
(Dibdin.)

OTHERS with splendour and parade
Their new-chosen members usher in,
Flags, banners, noise, cars, cavalcade,
Spears, halberts, tumult, dirt, and din.
Members of our society

Are chosen on a diff'rent plan;
We bid them welcome with a glee;
And swear them o'er the flowing can.

Free-Masons, with mysterious rites,
Their new-elected members hail;

And talk by signs, and brood whole nights,
O'er compass, trowel, mop, and pail.
Members of our society, &c.

Members of parliament, in air
On brawny shoulders lifted high,
Sit lolling in a great arm-chair,
While roaring thousands rend the sky.
Members of our society, &c.
To choose Lord Mayor, upon the Thames
Squadrons of barges scare the swans;
With turf-gallants and country dames
Are sopped and sous'd with City dons.
'Members of our society, &c.
Courtiers and lords prefer kiss'd hands;
Sheriffs and aldermen carouse;
Doctors harangue, to gain their bands;
Judges and counsellors make bows.

Members of our society, &c.

But when the bandy officer was order'd to the coast, How she tore her lovely locks that look'd so sandy, oh!

"Adieu, my sonl," says she; "if you write pray pay the post;

But, before we part, let's take a drop of brandy, oh!"

She filled him out a bumper, just before he left the town,

And another for herself, so neat and handy, oh! So they kept their spirits up, by their pouring spirits down,

For love is like the cholic, cured with brandy, oh! "Take a bottle on't," says she, for you're going

into camp,

In your tent you know, m love, 'twill be the dandy, oh!"

"You're right," says he, "my life! for a tent is very damp;

And 'tis better, with my tent, to take some brandy, oh!"

LAURETTA WILL EVER BE JOCIND
AND GAY.
(Halker.)

IN Tunis' fair city, as I have been told-
Once lived a bashaw, cruel, ugly, and old,

And he a young maiden in durance had pent,
'Till she to espouse him would give her consent.
He placed guards around her, and girt with a wall,
But she found the means to escape from them all;
Singing, fal lal lal la, &c.

All ye in affliction a moral hence learn,
Nor think that lost happiness ne'er will return;
Oh! yield not your hearts up a prey to despair,
If one day is stormy, the next will be fair."
Let fortune then menace, and scowl as she may,
Lauretta will ever be jocund and gay;

Singing, fal lal lal la, &c.

ENGLAND, THE ANCHOR AND HOPE OF THE WORLD.

UNDAUNTED in peril and foremost in danger,

Ever ready the rights of mankind to defend, The guard of the weak and support of the stranger; To oppression a foe, and to freedom a friend. Amid the rude scenes of dismay and commotion, Still firm as a rock, in her own native ocean, Since Anarchy first her red banner unfurl'd, Stood England, the Anchor and Hope of the world.

Sweetest spot on the earth, where true honour combining

With justice and truth, gives a strength to the whole;

Where the rose-bud of beauty, with valour entwining,

Enlargeth the heart and exalteth the soul. O land of my birth! yet shall peace be thy portion,

And thy white sails in commerce again be unfurl'd;

And still shalt thou stand, lovely rock! in the

ocean,

The anchor of Europe, the hope of the world.

GOOD WINE MAY BE DISGRACED. (From Heywood's "Woman killed with Kindness."-1617.)

AN honest crew, disposed to be merry,

Came to a tavern and called for wine; The drawer brought it, smiling like a cherry, And told them it was pleasant, neat, and fine. Taste it? quoth one: he did; oh, fie! quoth he. The wine was good; now it run't too near the lee. Another sipp'd, to give the wine its due,

And said unto the rest, it drunk too flat: 'The third said it was old; the fourth, too new. Nay, quoth the fifth, the sharpness likes me not. Thus, gentlemen, you see how in one hour The wine was new, old, flat, sharp, sweet, and

THE YOUNG IRISH CAPTAIN.
(Upton.)

THREE lovers I boast, that are handsome and smart,

And each in his way has laid siege to my heart;
But when I give up to so bold a request,
It must be to him that my fancy likes best:
Now one is a dandy, that doats on himself;
And t'other, though pleasing, too fond of the pelf;
But he that's most loving, courageous, and free,
Is the young Irish captain, the husband for me.
With his rub-a-dub, row-de-dow!
O the dear creature!

My mother, now mind, intercedes for the fop;
And father, for money, at nothing will stop:
So one is for this, and the other for that,

But neither my soldier will deign to look at;
And this is the reason, his fortune is small;
Or, indeed, to speak truly, he has none at all;
Yet so sweetly he pleads, and so tender is he,
That the young Irish captain's the husband for me.
With his rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, &c.

When he whisper'd, dear lad, t'other day in my

Stars, quite tired with pastimes Olympical
Stars and planets which beautiful shone,
Could no longer endure that men only shall
Swim in pleasures, and they but look on.
Round about horned
Lucina they swarmed,

And her informed how minded they were;
Each god and goddess,

To take human bodies,

As lords and ladies, to follow the hare.
Chaste Diana applauded the motion,
While pale Proserpina sat in her place,
To light the welkin and govern the ocean,
While she conducted her nephews in chase.
By her example

Their father to trample

The earth, old and ample, they soon leave the air,

And Mars the slaughter, to follow the hare.
Light god Cupid was mounted on Pegasus,
Borrow'd of Muses with kisses and pray'rs,
Strong Alcides, upon cloudy Caucasus,
Mounts a Centaur, which proudly him bears.
Postilion of the sky,
Light-heel'd Mercury,

Made his courser fly fleet as the air;
While tuneful Apollo

The kennel did follow,

And hoop and halloo, boys, after the hare. Drown'd Narcissus, from his metamorphosis, Roused by Echo, new manhood did take; Snoring Somnus up started from Cimmeris, Before for a thousand years he did not wake. There was club-footed AIKAI SHT Mulciber, booted,na 70 80 And Pan promoted on Corydon's mare. Proud Pallas pouted, Loud Eolus shouted, And Momus flouted, yet

Hymen ushers in the atona

lo YOUJONAJ followed the hare. mo aids ba

With witty Pandora, o viated as
And Maia with Flora did company bear ;
But
was stated
I do vbass
Too high to he mated,

Although she hated not hunting the hare.
Three brown bowls to the Olympical rector, Ju
The Troy-born boy presents on his knee;
Jove to Phœbus carouses in nectar,

And Phoebus to Hermes, and Hermes to me.
Wherewith infused,

I piped and I mused fo

In language unused their sports to declare;
Till the house of Jove,
ad soil at pool 10
Like the spheres, did move

Health to those that love hunting the hare.

nol

bA

Forbid it, ye powers! to Love 'tis a treason;

Yet ambition, assuming the semblance of reason, Commands me, with scorn, the mean thought

LARRY CARNEY.

(C. Dibdin.)

WHEN a man that's in sarvice is out of employ,
He's confin❜d to be roving all day
What he wants he may whistle for; I wish him joy
Of the meals that wo'n't come in his way.

SPOKEN.] O, for a nice pitchfork eel and a cold slice of melted butter to it; or a turban and lobster sauce; or the lovely beefsteak lining that makes the under crust of a pigeon pye! O, don't mention it! There's a time for all things,' they say, but I know no more about dinner-time than a cat does of churning salt-butter. No Song no Supper' is another old saw, but though I sing all day, sorrow the taste of supper I get morning, noon, or night,

Which makes me now lament and say,

(Imitation of the original singer.) 'May we ne'er want a friend or a bottle to give him.

Like an owl that sits moping I wander about,
And stand kicking my heels as I go;
And without a new sarvice shall soon be, no doubt,
Out of elbows from top to the toe.

SPOKEN.] I hav'n't a whole thread upon me that isn't in tatters, and if I keep Lent much longer, I'll be a perfect rag-bag of bones.

I've a

great mind to travel to London, where they say the flint-stones in the street are all gold; and the pigs, plum-puddings, and other poultry, run about ready dressed, crying, Cut and come again.' No, I wo'n't, for though I am out of bread, I know on which side it's buttered; and though London may be the place for the loaves and fishes,'

(Imitation of the original singer.)
They're fishermen all, fishermen all;
Tol de rol lol, fishermen all.'

O, Ireland, why from thee did ever I stray?
While I stop here, 'mid pother and strife,
I'd better go back; for if here I should stay
I'll be kilt all the rest of my life.

SPOKEN.] I've made up my mind at first sight, because second thoughts are best. I'll be married to Patty, and if she wo'n't have me, I'll die an old maid for her sake; though I could return to Kilkenny and wed old Deborah Dogherty, whose first husband died the day before they were married, and left her a disconsolate widow.

(Imitations of the original singers.) With a rich pair of pockets o'erflowing with charms,

And very much in fashion, for she'd very little clothes,'

The old maid cast a roguish eye

At me, says I, O, great Ramchoodra,
You love dancing, so do I.

'Ri tol lol, &c.'

LOCH NA GARR.

(Byron.)

7, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses; In you let the minions of luxury rove; Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love; Yet, Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,

Round their white summits, though elements

I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star, For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story,

Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch Na Garr. Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night rolling breath of the gale? Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,

And rides on the winds o'er his own highland vale.

Round Loch Na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers,

Winter presides in his cold icy car; Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers, They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Gari.

THE BAY OF BISCAY O!
(Cherry.)

LOUD roared the dreadful thunder!
The rain a deluge showers!
The clouds were rent asunder
By lightning's vivid powers!
The night, both drear and dark,
Our poor devoted bark,

!

Till next day, there she lay,
In the Bay of Biscay O!
Now dashed upon the billow,

Our op'ning timbers creak;
Each fears a wat❜ry pillow,
None stop the dreadful leak!
To cling to slipp'ry shrouds,
Each breathless seaman crowds,
As she lay, till the day,

In the Bay of Biscay O!
At length the wished for morrow
Broke through the hazy sky;
Absorbed in silent sorrow,
Each heaved the bitter sigh;
The dismal wreck to view,
Struck horror to the crew,
As she lay, on that day,
In the Bay of Biscay O!

Her yielding timbers sever,
Her pitchy seams are rent;
When Heaven, all-bounteous ever,
Its boundless mercy sent!
A sail in sight appears,

We hail her with three cheers!
Now we sail, with the gale,
From the Bay of Biscay 0:

I was all of a twitter,-what a terrible state!
Zure as the "Devil's in Lunnun," I be's deep in
love.

I went to our market, one day, to sell corn,
And as I stood prizing, and showing 'twas

good,

Od-zooks! she passed by me, as sharp as a thorn; Down dropped my sample of wheat in the mud!

I was going one day, to sell eggs at the Hall,
In my clean leather breeches, as prim as a
pike;-

I met her, so lovely, but, zounds! what a fall,
For I and my eggs all went plump in a dyke!
I twissled my hat, and I scrattled my pate,

I would ha' spoke to her, but cuddent, by
Jove!

I was all over muck,-what a terrible state!
Zure as " dumplings be dumplings," I be's deep

in love.

UNITE! unite! your voices raise,
Loud! loudly sing freemasons' praise;
Spread far and wide their spotless fame,
And glory in the sacred name.
Behold! behold! the upright band,
In Virtue's paths go hand in hand;
They shun each ill, they do no wrong,
Strict honour does to them belong.
How just how just are all their ways,
Superior far to mortal praise;
Their worth description far exceeds,
For matchless are freemasons' deeds.

Go on! go on! ye just and true,
Still, still the same bright path pursue;
Th' admiring world shall on you gaze,
And Friendship's altar ever blaze.
Begone! begone! fly, Discord, hence,
With party-rage and insolence;
Sweet Peace shall bless this happy band,
And Freedom smile throughout the land.

FAREWELL! I'VE BROKE MY CHAIN AT

LAST.

(Croly.)

FAREWELL! I've broke my chain at last, I stand upon life's fatal shore!

The bitterness of death is past,

Nor love, nor scorn, can wring me more.

I loved, how deeply loved! Oh, Heaven!
To thee, to thee the pang is known;
Yet, traitor! be thy crime forgiven,
Mine be the shame, the grief alone!

The maddening hour when first we met,
The glance, the smile, the vow you gave:
The last wild moment haunts me yet!

I feel they'll haunt me to my grave!—
Down, wayward heart, no longer heave;
Thou, idle tear, no longer flow
And may that Heaven he dared deceive
Forgive, as I forgive him now.

;

"Why I be a sowing tares."

Taw law rum low, de lo, de lo;
For drill or broad-cast none do know,
Better than joltering Giles to sow;
Be't beans, or wheat, or whuts, or rye,
Or barley, you mun come to I;

Taw lull drull, lull drull, li;
Thus joltering Giles, the merry clown,
Reasons, remarks, and sows;
To pain and care alike unknown,
He whistles as he goes.

One day some dashing sprigs came by,
Imported neat from town;

As they passed on, Giles heard them cry,
66 I say, let's quiz the clown."
Just as these sparks their fun began,
An ass was heard to bray,

E O. "Here fellow, clown, anan;
"One at a time, zur, pray."
"We reap the fruit of all that's sown
By fellows of your stamp"
"That's very likely, zur, I own,
For I be a sowing hamp."

"

Taw law rum low, &c.

A friend to all the country round,
My labours all regale;
'Twas I the barley put

the ground

That brewed the exciseman's ale; The wheat I zow with even hand,

To thousands shall give bread;
Why, there's no king or 'squire o' the land
Zo many mouths ha' fed":

I zaves their zouls, for aught I know;
If how thou'd'st wish to larn,
The tithe of every grain I zow
Goes to the parson's barn.

Taw law rum low, &c.