Then by there came twa gentlemen, At twelve o'clock at night; And they could neither see house nor hall, "Now whether is this a rich man's house? But ne'er a word would ane o' them speak, And first they ate the white puddings, Though muckle thought the goodwife to hersel', Then said the one unto the other; "But there's nae water in the house, Oh up then started our goodman, An angry man was he; "Will ye kiss my wife before my face, And sca'd me wi' pudding bree?" Then up then started our goodwife, 66 Gi'ed three skips on the floor; Goodman, you've spoken the foremost word! Get up and bar the door!" NATURE AND FORTUNE. NATURE and Fortune, blithe and gay, To pass an hour or two, In frolic mood agreed to play At "What shall this man do?" "Come, I'll be judge then," Fortune cries, Then whipped a napkin round her eyes, Nature had now prepared her list Thus mixed, whichever came to hind She very surely drew; Then bade her sister give command 'Twould almost burst one's sides to her What strange commands she gave ; That Cibber should the laurel wear, At length, when Stanhope's name was come, Dame Nature smiled, and cried; "Now tell me, sister, this man's doom, And what shall him betide." "That man," said Fortune, "shall be one Blest both by you and me : "Nay, then," quoth Nature, "let's have done; Sister, I'm sure you see." 'AT CHURCH. LAST Sunday at St. James's prayers, I, dressed in all my whale-bone airs, I bowed my knees, I held my book, But was perverted by a look Which pierced me from the door. High thoughts of Heaven I came to use Which gay young Strephon made me lose, And all the raptures there. He stood to hand me to my chair, And bowed with courtly grace; But whispered love into my ear, ,, But I grew peevish at the word, KISSING. As I went to the wake that is held on the green, And I found (though a clown) I was smitten with love: "Lovely Phoebe," says I, "don't affect to be shy, "Lord bless me !" I cried, "I'm surprised you refuse; "Well, come then," I cried, "to the church let us go, But after, dear Phoebe must never say No." "Do you prove but true," she replied, "you shall find I'll ever be constant, good-humoured, and kind." So I kiss when I please, for she ne'er says she won't; And I kiss her so much that I wonder she don't. THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN. THERE was an old woman, as I've heard tell, There came by a pedlar whose name was Stout, Which made the old woman to shiver and freeze. When this little woman first did wake, "But if it be I, as I do hope it be, I've a little dog at home, and he'll know me ; And if it be not I, he'll loudly bark and wail!" Home went the little woman all in the dark ; THE MERRY MAN. I AM a young fellow To drink and be merry is all my delight; By tippling good whisky With jovial companions from morning to night. In hoarding up treasure; The sight of a miser I cannot endure, And sharping, and biting, And laying out schemes for to plunder the poor. Ri fal-da-riddle lah, &c. Of the beggarly miser I am a despiser; The fruit of his labour he never enjoys; His heirs for his money, Impatient of honey, Are waiting, and hate him, while with it he toys. His frame is complaining, For want of sustaining; His limbs are decrepit from hunger and cold; To make his pulse quicker, He's gloating and doating on that idol called gold, As for me, while I'm able, At the head of a table, Set me down of good whisky a full water-stand, Where each clever toper May toast to his friends with a bumper in hand. Like a Justice of Quorum, I'll preside full of state in my holiday clothes; With a rollicking rummer, A pipe for to smoke, and a jug at my nose. "Come, drawer, this spirit Of yours has some merit. Sweet piper, come squeeze up your leather and play; And hand him the pitcher, It makes music richer," Thus we'll drink and carouse to the dawning of day. Such muddling and fuddling's unworthy of man; The time that is hasting, Commend me to those that will fugle the can. When stopped in my toddy No crocodile tears shall be shed at my wake; No counterfeit crying, No moans, I desire, shall be made for my sake Or old women's bawling, Who string nonsense together and call it a keen. Their yelping and yelling For some one perhaps that they never have seen. But of whisky a cruiskeen Let all have to toast to my journey up-hill; To tune up for the swipers, While each boy honestly swallows his fill. For each, should they grudge ill To anoint one another, and none to control : For him that's departed, But end their disputes in a full-flowing bowl. When daylight 'tis fairly, |