Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;

And when I shall meet

Thy silv'ry feet,

My soul I'll pour into thee.

HERE,

TOM BOWLING.

a sheer hulk,

lies poor Tom Bowling,

The darling of our crew;

No more he'll hear

the tempest howling,

For death has broach'd him to.

His form was of the manliest beauty,

His heart was kind and soft;

Faithful below he did his duty,
But now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,

His virtues were so rare;

His friends were many

and true-hearted,

His Poll was kind and fair:

And then he'd sing

so blithe and jolly;

Ah, many's the time and oft!

But mirth is turn'd to melancholy,

For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom

find pleasant weather,

When He who all commands,

Shall give, to call life's

crew together,

The word to pipe all hands.

Thus Death, who kings

and tars dispatches,

In vain Tom's life has doff'd;

For though his body's under hatches,

His soul is gone aloft.

Charles Dibdin.

MY LOVE IS LIKE THE RED

RED ROSE.

MY love is like the red red rose
That's newly sprung in June;

My love is like the melody

That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;

And I will love thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run.

But, fare thee weel, my only love, And fare thee weel awhile;

And I will come again, my dear, Though 'twere ten thousand mile.

Burns.