All he did and utter'd?
"He still address'd,
Still caress'd,

Kiss'd and press'd,

Sung, prattled, laugh'd and flatter'd;
Well received in all, like pretty, pretty Poll."

Did he go away at the close of day,
Or did he ever use to stay

In a corner dodging?
"The want of light
When 'twas night

Spoil'd my sight;

But I believe his lodging

Was within her call, like pretty, pretty Poll."

This lively and singular piece was probably popular at the time of writing the "Beggar's Opera," which has a duet to the same measure.-AIKIN.

THERE WAS A JOLLY MILLER.

From BICKERSTAFFE'S "Love in a Village." 1762.

THERE was a jolly miller once lived on the river Dee,
He danced and sang from morn till night, no lark so blithe as he;
And this the burden of his song for ever used to be,
"I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for me."

I live by my mill, God bless her! she's kindred, child, and wife;
I would not change my station for any other in life:
No lawyer, surgeon, or doctor, e'er had a groat from me,
I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for me.

When spring begins his merry career, oh, how his heart grows gay!
No summer's drought alarms his fears, nor winter's cold decay;
No foresight mars the miller's joy, who's wont to sing and say,
"Let others toil from year to year, I live from day to day."

Thus, like the miller, bold and free, let us rejoice and sing,
The days of youth are made for glee, and time is on the wing;
This song shall pass from me to thee, along the jovial ring,
With heart and voice, let all agree, to say "Long live the king."

The last two stanzas of this popular song appear to be by different hands, and to have been successively added at different times. The original idea is evidently concluded with the second stanza. Only the first stanza is sung on the stage.

THE ORIGIN OF THE PATTEN.

CHARLES DIBDIN. From the opera of the "Milkmaid.”

SWEET ditties would my Patty sing:
"Old Chevy Chase," "God save the king,"
"Fair Rosamond," and "Sawny Scott,"
"Li-li-burle-ro," and what not.

All these would sing my blue-eyed Patty,
As with her pail she trudged along;
While still the burden of her song
My hammer beat to blue-eyed Patty.

But nipping frosts and chilling rain
Too soon, alas! choked every strain;
Too soon, alas! the miry way

Her wet-shod feet did sore dismay,

And hoarse was heard my blue-eyed Patty; While I for very mad did cry,

"Ah! could I but again," said I,

"Hear the sweet voice of blue-eyed Patty!"

Love taught me how; I work'd, I sang ;
My anvil glow'd, my hammer rang,
Till I had form'd from out the fire,
To bear her feet above the mire,

An engine for my blue-eyed Patty.

Again was heard each tuneful close

My fair one in the patten rose,

Which takes its name from blue-eyed Patty.

THE UNCOMMON OLD MAN.

From the "Convivial Songster," 1782.

THERE was an old man, and though 'tis not common,
Yet, if he said true, he was born of a woman;
And though 'tis incredible, yet I've been told
He was once a mere infant, but age made him old.

Whene'er he was hungry he long'd for some meat,
And if he could get it, 'twas said he would eat;
When thirsty he'd drink, if you gave him a pot,
And his liquor most commonly ran down his throat.

He seldom or never could see without light,
And yet I've been told he could hear in the night:
He has oft been awake in the daytime, 'tis said,
And has fallen fast asleep as he lay in his bed.

'Tis reported his tongue always mov'd when he talk'd,
And he stirr'd both his arms and his legs when he walk'd
And his gait was so odd, had you seen him you'd burst,
For one leg or t'other would always be first.

His face was the saddest that ever was seen,

For if 'twere not wash'd it was seldom quite clean;
He shew'd most his teeth when he happen'd to grin,
And his mouth stood across 'twixt his nose and his chin.

At last he fell sick, as old chronicles tell,
And then, as folks said, he was not very well;

But what is more strange, in so weak a condition,
As he could not give fees, he could get no physician.

What pity he died! yet 'tis said that his death
Was occasion'd at last by the want of his breath;
But peace to his bones, which in ashes now moulder,—
Had he liv'd a day longer he'd been a day older.

DULCE DOMUM.

SING a sweet, melodious measure,
Waft enchanting lays around;
Home's a theme replete with pleasure :-
Home! a grateful theme resound.

Home, sweet home! an ample treasure;
Home! with ev'ry blessing crown'd;
Home! perpetual source of pleasure;
Home! a noble strain resound.

Lo! the joyful hour advances,
Happy season of delight!
Festal songs and festal dances

All our tedious toils requite.

Leave, my wearied Muse, thy learning;
Leave thy task so hard to bear;
Leave thy labour, ease returning,
Leave, my bosom, all thy care.

See the year, the meadow, smiling;
Let us then a smile display:
Rural sport our pain beguiling,
Rural pastimes call away.

Now the swallow seeks her dwelling,

And no longer loves to roam:

The example thus impelling,

Let us seek our native home!

Let both men and steeds assemble,
Panting for the wide campaign;
Let the ground beneath us tremble,
While we scour along the plain.

Oh, what raptures! oh, what blisses!
When we gain the lovely gate;
Mothers' arms and mothers' kisses,
There our blest arrival wait.

Greet our household gods with singing;
Lend, O Lucifer, thy ray!

Why should light, so slowly springing,
All our promised joys delay?

Founded upon the celebrated Latin song of the Winchester School-boys" "Dulce Domum." It first appeared in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for March 1796, under the signature of J. R.

A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store,
And he had drunk stoutly at supper;
He mounted his horse in the night at the door,
And he sat with his face to the crupper:

"Some rogue," quoth the friar, quite dead to remorse,

"Some thief, whom a halter will throttle,

Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse

While I was engaged at the bottle,

Which went gluggity, gluggity-glug-glug-glug."

The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale,
"Twas the friar's road home straight and level;
But, when spurr'd, a horse follows his nose-not his tail,
So he scamper'd due north like the devil.

"This new mode of docking," the friar then said,
"I perceive doesn't make a horse trot ill:

And 'tis cheap-for he never can eat off his head,
While I am engaged at the bottle,

Which goes gluggity, gluggity-glug-glug-glug."

The steed made a stop-in a pond he had got,

He was rather for drinking than grazing;

Quoth the friar, ""Tis strange headless horses should trot; But to drink with their tails is amazing!"