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THE SHIPWRECKED TAR.

ESCAP'D with life, in tatters,
Behold me safe ashore,
Such trifles little matters,
I'll soon get togs galore.
For Poll swore when we parted,
No chance her faith should jar,
And Poll's too tender-hearted,
To slight a shipwreck'd Tar.
To Poll his course straight steering,
He hastens on apace;

Poor Jack can't get a hearing,
She never saw his face:
From Meg, and Doll, and Kitty,
Relief is just as far;

Not one has the least pity,

For a poor shipwreck'd Tar.

This, whom he thought love's needle,
Now his sad misery mocks;
That wants to call the beadle,
To set him in the stocks.
Cried Jack," this is hard dealing,"
The elements at war,
Than you had greater feeling,

They spar'd a shipwreck'd Tar.

But all their taunts and fetches,
A judgment are on me;
I, for these harden'd wretches,
Dear Nancy, slighted thee:
But see, poor Tray assails me,
His mistress is not far,
He wags his tail and hails me,

Tho' a poor shipwreck'd Tar.

'Twas faithful love that brought him, Oh! lesson for mankind;

Tis one, cry'd she, I taught him,
For on my constant mind
Thy dear image was graven,
And now remov'd each bar,
My arms shall be the haven,
For the poor shipwreck'd Tar.
Heaven and my love reward thee,
I'm shipwreck'd, but I'm rich;
And shall with pride regard thee,
Thy love shall so bewitch
With wonder each fond fancy,
That children near and far,
Shall lisp the name of Nancy,

That sav'd her shipwreck'd Tar.

****

WITHIN a MILE of EDINBURGH.

'TWAS within a mile of Edinburgh town,
In the rosy time of the year,

Sweet flowers bloom'd, and the grass was down,
And each shepherd woo'd his dear:
Bonny Jockey blithe and gay.
Kiss'd sweet Jenny making hay :
The lassie blush'd, and' frowning cry'd,
No, no, it will not do,

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot,
Munnot buckle to.

Jockey was a wag that never would wed,
Though long he had follow'd the lass,
Contented she earn'd, and ate her brown bread,
And merrily turn'd up the grass:

Bonny Jockey blithe and free,
Won her heart right merrily,

Yet still she blush'd, and frowning cry'd,
No, no, it will not do,

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot,
Munnot buckle to.

But when he vow'd he wou'd make her his bride,
Though his flocks and herd were not few,
She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside,
And vow'd she'd tor ever be true?
Bonny Jockey blithe and free,
Won her heart right merrily,
At church she no more frowning cry'd,
No, no, it will not do,

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot,
Munnot buckle to.

BRITANNIA'S REVENGE.

BRITANNIA musing o'er the deeds
By her brave sons achieved,
In battle, where the valiant bleeds,
And death stalks forth unheeded,
Within her cave the Goddess sat,
And view'd the foaming ocean,
Whose surges high began to beat,
In furious commotion:

When lo! a Triton, from afar,
Came floating in his wat'ry car,
"Haste," he cry'd, "Britannia, rise,

"Succour bring, or NELSON dies!"

Rous'd at the name of her favourite she flew
To the scene, where the hero, expos'd to her view,

Alas! was no more!

Frantic with grief, her locks she tore,
And thro' the fleet, engaging,

The direful tale to all she bore,

Amidst the battle's raging:

"Revenge! Revenge aloud she cry'd,
"To stimulate your fury,

"See yonder deck, how richly dy’d!

'Tis Nelson's blood!" conjure ye,
"By his dear manes, his parting breath,
"I charge ye to avenge his deathl

Let British thunder go,
"Hurl destruction on the foe!

"Let not his fall, without something as great,
"Be recorded, to mark the lamentable fate
"Of a Hero so great!"

She ceas'd, and now great Nelson's name
From ship to ship resounded,
While France and Spain, enwrapt in flame,
Astonish'd and confounded,
Feeble oppose the vengeful ire.
In British hearts excited;
In vain to glory they aspire,

His death must be requited!
Unequal to the conflict's heat,
Tho' greater numbers fill their fleet,
See! they strike, vengeance sweep,
Rushing down th' unfathom'd deep,

Sinks the confed'rates of proud France and Spain,
While the Genius of Albion exulting exclaims

"VICTORY! VICTORY

JEW PEDLAR.

VELL, vat d'ye vant now to buy,
My razors, my vax or my knives?
Then my rings oh such rings! and for why!
To make pretty maids become vives.
Then buckles and strings for the knees

I deal in, so various my trade is;
And vat I am certain vill please,

Is my bodkins, d'ye see, for the ladies.
La ral lal, &c.

Then vat d'ye think I have here?

Some diamond pins, none can surpass And that you can't match 'em is clear, And vhy vhy, because they are glass.

Then pencils vill write in the dark,
All made by the devil knows who;
For if you can get them to mark,
'Tis more than the maker cou'd do.
La ral lal, &c.

Then my vatches are all finish'd so,
And I haven't above half a score,
That if you can make them to go,

'Tis more than they e'er did before. Yet pray do not call me a cheat,

Tho' my goods may not prove vat you vish,
For if I vant bread to my meat,
Vhy I mustn't cry my stinking fish.
La ral lal, &c.

THE POOR MARINER.

THE winds whistl'd shrilly, chill rain down was streaming,

When from a dark cell where the sun ne'er had beam'd in,

Worn out with great age, press'd with hunger and grief,

A sad son of Neptune call'd forth for relief:
Give relief to---ch, give relief to the poor Mariner.
He trembling begg'd, as the affluent pass'd him,
The poor mite benevolent charity would cast him,
Whilst from his dim eyes, hid by darkness, thick veil
The big tear gush'd forth while he told his sad tale!
Give relief to, &c.

These eyes oft have seen the proud sink before me,
Have sparkled with Joy at the signal of glory;
Have seen Britain's flag oft to conquest aspire,
Tho' now lost in darkness for want I expire!
Give relief to, &c.

My life's been expos'd in defence of our laws,
I've bled at dach vein to support freedom's cause à

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