O! WHEN IN DAYS THAT ARE YET TO RISE.
Poetry by Miss Mary Leman Rede; to Irish Melody, Moore's Legacy.'
Published by Davidson.

O! when, in days that are yet to rise, A lone you stray by this

sea, And gaze as now on the starry skies, Will not a fond thought revert to me?

Wilt thou not wish, although no longer Fond inter-est in thy heart I claim, That

other friends and ties far stronger May happily light my steps to fame.

strong nor wes - ter's blow-ing, Bill-Hark! don't you hear it roar now?

HONEST BOB OF THE MILL.

My heart is as honest and brave as the best; My bo-dy's as sound as

roach; Tho' in gay span-gled garments I never was dress'd, Nor stuck up my nob in a

THEY TELL ME THERE ARE OTHER LANDS.
The Poetry by Mark Lemon. The Music by Rossini.

Allegro con Espressione.

They tell me there are other lands More beautiful than thee, Up - on whose

sands the gem and pearl Are scat-ter'd by the sea; They tell me there are o-ther

by the sea. They say their streams o'er crys -tal flow, Through spicy groves and

dwells, And in their never fading flow'rs The bee un ti ring dwells. They

tell me there are 0 - ther lands More beau- ti - ful than thee, More beau- ti

A frog he would a wooing go, Heigh - o! says Rowly; A frog he

would a wooing go, Whether his

mo ther would let him or no,-With his

rowly pow-ly, gammon and spinage-' Heigh-o!' said An-thony Row

Heigho, &c.

"Yes, kind sirs; I'm sitting to spin,' With a rowly powly, &c.

'Come, Mrs. Mouse, now give us some beer,' Heigho, &c.

"That Froggy and I may have some cheer,' With a rowly powly, &c.

'Pray, Mr. Frog, will you give us a song?'
Heigho, &c.

And let it be something that's not very long,'
With a rowly powly, &c.

'Indeed, Mrs. Mouse,' replied the frog,

Heigho, &c.

'A cold has made me as hoarse as a hog,' With a rowly powly, &c.

'Since you have caught cold, Mr. Frog,'mousy said, Heigho, &c.

'I'll sing you a song that I have just made,'
With a rowly powly, &c.

As they were in glee and a merry-making,
Heigho, &c.

A cat and her kittens came tumbling in,
With a rowly powly, &c.

The cat, she seized the rat by the crown,
Heigho, &c.

The kittens, they pull'd the little mouse down,
With a rowly powly, &c.

This put Mr. Frog in a terrible fright,

Heigho, &c.

He took up his hat, and he wish'd them good night,
With a rowly powly, &c.

As Froggy was crossing it over a brook,

Heigho, &c.

A lily-white duck came and gobbled him up,
With a rowly powly, &c.

So here is an end of one, two, and three,

Heigho, &c.

The rat, the mouse, and the little froggy,
With a rowly powly, &c.

WIDOW GLIB AND SIR STEEPLE.

The Poetry by George Daniel, Esq., to the Music of A Frog he would a wooing go.'

Sir Steeple he courted the queer widow Glib

Heigho! Sir Steeple,

He knew she was rich, and he wanted to crib
Her cash, so he offer'd to make her his rib,
With his teazing, pleasing,
Hoaxing and coaxing:

A comical beau was Sir Steeple.

Her purse it was long, tho' her person was short-
Heigho, &c.

And her beauty was none of the ravishing sort;
Yet the eye of his knightship her money-bags

Now love, in return, the fair widow enthrals,
And fondly she ogled Sir Steeple;

They gadded together to concerts and balls,
Like the Monument link'd to the dome of St. Paul's!
With their perking, smirking,
Winking and blinking,

The fair Mrs. Glib and Sir Steeple.

They trotted to church, for their passion increas'd-
The parson he whisper'd Sir Steeple-
'Your wife's rather short.'-'You are right, mas-
ter priest;

But, in choosing two evils, I've chosen the least!'
With their roley poley,

Coupled so drolly,

Off march'd Widow Glib and Sir Steeple

AND HAS SHE THEN FAIL'D IN HER TRUTH.
Andante.

And has she then fail'd in her truth, The beautiful maid I adore? Shall I

first, your mur-murs hush-ing, I told my love out-gush - ing,

An-nie, dear!

And cried through the village, 'Come, buy my sweet po-sies;' She gather'd wild

flowers, sweet lilies and roses, And cried through the village, 'Come, buy my sweet po-sies.'