With my one, two, and three, four, then all in line,
To the shoe shop and quarry, each bloke must keep time,
We work like a Turk, then back to our cell,

Such a grand institution is the Isle de Blackwell.

Oh! there is a darling who'd sugar galore,

He hypothecated to the Canada shore.

The boodle was heavy, he tripped and he fell,

Singing Moody and Sankey on the Isle de Black well.

Oh! there is a baby, 'tis a pity he's here,

He was nabbed by a hipper a-shoving the queer.
His people are nobby, on the avenue they swell
He's a family skeleton on

FLEE AS A BIRD TO YOUR MOUNTAIN.
Flee as a bird to your mountain,

Thou who art weary of sin;

Go to the clear-flowing fountain,
Where you may wash and be clean.
Fly for th' Avenger is near thee;
Call, and the Saviour will hear thee,
He on His bosom will bear thee,
Oh thou, who art weary of sin,
Oh thou, who art weary of sin.
He will protect thee forever,

Wipe every sad falling tear;
He will forsake thee, O never,

Cherished so tenderly there.
Haste, then, the hours now are flying,
Spend not the moments in sighing,
Cease from your sorrow and crying,
The Saviour will wipe every tear,
The Saviour will wipe every tear.
Come, then, to Jesus, thy Saviour,
He will redeem thee from sin,
Bless with a sense of His favor,
Make thee all glorious within;
Call, for the Saviour is near thee,
Waiting in mercy to hear thee,
And by His presence to cheer thee,
O thou, who art weary of sin,

O thou, who art weary of sin.

WIND BLEW THRO' HIS WHISKERS.

The song I sing to you now, is one you'll all allow;
The situation shows off lots of chaps,

Who wander up and down the streets of every city
And seem a target for misfortune's slaps;

[ing;

Their clothes are full of holes, their hats are worse for wear-
Their shoes are minus soles, and somewhat need repairing!
Of collars, cuffs, or shirts their wardrobes are deficient,
But when it comes to coats of dirt they have a compliment.

CHORUS.

For the wind blew through his whiskers,
With a freedom quite delightful;
All the gamins shout, as he turns out,
And he says it's really frightful;
You should see him promenading,
Like the toniest of friskers,

And the boys all cry as he goes by

SOMEBODY WAITING FOR ME.

The moon's shining bright, and the stars give their light, And the evening invites us to stray,

But in vain do I talk of a bright moonlight walk

I am here and I can't get away.

66

I'm a bird in a cage, and they say, at my age,"
That their wonder is what I can see

In a walk in the cold, though the truth must be told,
That there's somebody waiting for me.

CHORUS.

There's somebody waiting, there's somebody waiting, There's somebody waiting for me.

They ask me to sing, and my music they bring,

"Tis "Meet Me by Moonlight Alone" again,

And it's getting quite late, and I know he won't wait,
And he'll go if it comes on to rain.

And now they propose all the shutters to close,

As a form in the moonlight I see,

But before they're aware I'll steal down the back stair, For there's somebody waiting for me.

WAITING, MY DARLING, FOR THEE.

I've been waiting for more than an hour, love,
Yes, waiting and watching for thee,

While hoping and praying you'd come, love,
And keep true your promise to me;

For you told me you'd meet me this evening,
And listen to what I've to say-

For, to speak the plain truth, I am certain
I can't tell you all in a day.

CHORUS.

By the lilies that float down the river,
By the cowslips that grow on the lea,
By the roses that bloom in the forest,
I'm waiting, my darling, for thee.

I'm waiting, yes, waiting,

I'm waiting, my darling, for thee;
I'm waiting, yes, waiting,

I'm waiting, my darling, for thee.
For more than a year I have waited-
That promise from you to receive;
So surely you'll not break your word, love,
And leave me your absence to grieve.

Now, just list to what I mention, for to sing 'tis my intention About Dame Nature's great invention-it's the naughty, naughty girls;

Oh! you pretty creatures, bless you, though we love you and

But it costs a heap to dress you, oh! you naughty, naughty girls;

In the dry-goods' places you're dropping, your expenses there's no stopping,

For you love to go a-shopping, oh! you naughty, naughty girls.

There are ribbons, silks and laces, velvet basques and satin dresses,

Paint and powder for your faces, oh! you naughty, naughty girls;

There's a thirty-dollar bonnet, and to make the face be come it,