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And now to camplete this division of spoil,

These highwaymen held consultation ; To secure their booty, Brother Louis they make

The King of the Great-breeches nation, While the sons of brave Tell, who for ages

have stood Unconquer'd their freedom defending. Are cut out for the jackall, the cuckold Murat;

And their necks to this monster are bending. Arrah, faith ; there is one more of this hope

ful branch; And his name it is Admiral Jerry, Who intends Daddy Neptune's firm throne to upset.

And in England to reign free and merry. Ye winds be auspicious! don't blow him to port,

Till the jack-tars of Britain shall meet him, And then, with the honours of powder and ball,

His new subjects will heartily greet him.
But before we'll submit to receive terms of peace,

Or compromise Britain's proud charter,
In rivers of blood we'll wipe off such disgrace,

Or to freedom we'll each fall a martyr.
No! we'd rather in battle resign our best blood,

Sooner plunge in old Ocean's salt waves,
Than desert those white cliffs where our brave

fathers stood, Or submit to a Nation of Slaves.

********

A TRIP TO LANCASTER RACES.

Addressed to a Friend. YOU know my dear friend that I've spent all my

life la seading and writing and without a wife, Have travell’d thus far on the journey alone, Till I've seen, you must know, sumnjers thirty and

one.

And yet in this period I never durst venture
The grand rendezvous of the world once to enter ;
To the Ball, or assembly, the play, or the fair,
I'd a huge mind to go, but yet never was there;
But at last being weary of country and tillage,
And asham'd to immure myself up in a village,
I firmly resoly'd to see some new faces,
And make my debut at the Lancaster Races:
I therefore now give you without more preamble.
A succinct account of this wonderful ramble.

I rose in the morning, and dress'd myself neatly In a suit of new cloaths that were made by Will

Wheatley; And that nought night be wanting, without more

- demur, I put on my boots, and a family-spur; Then mounting my gelding, we ambled along, Till a jovial old beggar came humming a song; My horse sorely frighten'd 'gan caper and founce, And three miles on the road I came off with a

bounce ; I remounted unhurt, and without more disaster, Arriv'd in good time at the town of Lancaster. There a glass of brisk wine soon my spirits renew'd And I walk'd to the Course in a merry tun'd mood; The crowd was so vast, and the weather so fair, Lord bless me! thought I, all the world sure is

here! Astonished, confounded, I gap'd and I star'd, At a sight, which so strange and so novel appear'd, In the Indian fashion here houses arose, Where folks sat at ease in their holiday clothes; There gamester's presided at O and E Tables, And told you bad luck and misfortune were fables, While a round-a-bout horse to some youngsters of

spirit, In a circle display'd his most wonderful merit. I was musing on these, when a trumpet's shrill

sound Proclaim'd that the coursers were pacing the ground Now quickly they start, and as quickly they run,

While my ears were astonisii'd with “ Done, Sir!

and · Done!" Transported I eagerly cry'd, “ White a guinea!" " Done, Sir!" says another! thought I thou’rt a

ninny; But it quickly appear'd that my judgement was

sleeping, For the red won the race, and I paid for my peeping.

However, well pleas'd with the sports of the day, I thought I'd e'en venture to go to the play; So muster'd up spirits to purchase admission, And sat down in the Pit with amazing precision : You'll believe me, my friend, when I tell you that

never
Was my heart so enraptur'd at actions so clever ;
So real all appear'd, that I made myself certain
Of being in spain, when-down fell the curtain.
The Honey-moon finishida farce claim'd attention,
When Jermy Didler shew'd wond'rous invention:-
In short, I was pleas'd in the highest degree,
And, trust me, ere long, at another I'll be.

So closes my ramble; the race the next year
Is for a gold cup, and again I'll be there,
Provided this pocket a tester or groat has,
I the mean time I am, with respect, yours.

PHILOTAS. July gth. 1810.

#*******

EVERY DAY IN THE WEEK.
WHICH is the properest day to drink ?

Saturday, Sunday, Monday,
Each is the properest day I think,
Why should we name but one day !

Bravo! bravo! each is my day,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday,

Sunday, Monday.

EPITAPH ON A TAILOR.
BENEATH's interr'd poor Simon Snip,
Who to the next world's took a trip;
He liv'd a very honest life,
Tho' now and then he bet his wife ;
He cabbag'd clo:h sometimes, 'tis true,
But that's no more than others do ;
Death call'd upon him with his sheers,
To cut away his thread of years:
And 'spite of all Snip's wife could say,
The villain cabbag'd him away.

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********

RAM'S HORNS. AS Cornus, poor soul, was provok'd by his Wife (A most termagant jade, and promoter of strife) She exhausted his patience so much that he swore, He would put her to death for one crooked word

more. “Since you threaten me so,"—(was the Vixen's

reply) «I say, Ram's Horns, you dog, and will say't if I

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#*******

TOM AND NED.

When Tom call'd in, one day on Nede
His wife was plaistering dearee's head;

Who sigh'd ; but dard not shake it!
'Tis well Tom's pace is something slower;
For had he come an hour before,
* He'd seen the vixen break it!

SONG,
SUNG AFTER A GRAND BALL AND

SUPPER AT GLASGOW.
Tune_“ O whistle and I'll come to you, my lovels

WHILE the banners of war through the globe are

display'd, Peace and love, those our best blessings, our bo

soms prevade; In the dance and the song we delightfully join, And plenty prevails with the juice of the vine: With wealth we are blest, and true freedom enjoy; While our fair ones, so lovely, our hearts fill with

joy.

With wealth we are blest, &c. What nation with ours in bright beauties can vie ? Like the sun in full splendour, they dazzle the eye; Their minds are improved with wit, judgment, and

sense, And their presence does ever pure pleasure

dispense: Look around in the circle, you'll certainly find, The sweetest expression with loveliness join'd.

Look around, &c.

O see from Ierne a nymph most divine, .
As lovely as Hebe, admir'd as the Nine,
Blest with beauty to charm, and with wit to de.

light; .
Her conduct pursue, and in wedlock unite.
To Hymen's blest fane, youths and maidens repair,
And hence in love's pleasures dispel ev'ry care.

To Hymen's, &c. Springs delight from the grape or the sports of the

field, Much greater I'm sure lovely woman will yield; She alone is the source of our hopes and our joys, From whence all our dearest enjoyments arise:

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