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If enemies oppose as, when England is at wars With any foreign nations, we fear no wounds or

scars; Our roaring guns shall teach them our valour for

to know, Whilst they reel on the keel, When the stormy winds do blow.

Then courage all brave mariners, and never be

afraid, Whilst we have bold adventurers we ne'er shall

want a trade : Dar merchants will employ as to bring them

wealth we know, Then be bold, work for gold, When the stormy winds do blow.

T'Egentle maid of whom I sing,

Once liv'd where 'Tweed's blue waters wave, But now the modest flower of spring

Hangs weeping o'er her dewy grave. T'ond nymphs ! of Mary's fate beware,

Of perjur'd William's vows take heed, Lest you should love and then despair,

Like gentle Mary of the Tweed.

Tho Tong he woo'd the forely maid,

And she was faithful in return,
To every sense of honour dead,
He fled and left the fair to mourn.

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Alarm'd Alarm'd at her false lover's flight,

Her fair companions sought the mead, To sink the hopes, in endless night,

Of gentle Mary of the Tweed.

She heard--but scorning to upbraid,

She breath'd alone the secret sigh, For graceful pride induc'd the maid

To hide her wrongs from ev'ry eye. Here, in these shades, a prey to grief,

She tuu'd to plaintive strains the reed; 'Till death from woe, a blest relief,

Smote gentle Mary of the Tweed.

Now in the turf-bound grave at rest,

Where yonder willow droops its head, With hopeless care no more oppress'd,

She sleeps beneath the waving shade. The cruel wrongs are all forgot

Which forc'd her virgin heart to bleed; Fond nymphs ! be yours a milder lot

Than gentle Mary's of the Tweed.

THE
NHE table clear'd, the wine was brought,

Says Dick to Tom now that's your sort,
Come bring the gingling glasses,
Let Love and Fancy guess the rest;

Come fill a bumper of the best,
And toast our fav'rite lasses.

Than

Then here's to smiling black ey'd Sue,
The girl that's made for me and you;

The paragon of beauty ;
Ja her the graces all conibine,
A sparkling eye, a form divine,

The gods have done their duty.

Than prize

Next then a glass to bonny Bess,
A girl of spunk, we can't de less

her as a treasure;
So here's the wench with three times three,
The lass well form'd for love and me,

Ye Bipeds, what a treasure.

Choice spirits own that this is life,
Yet bless the sacred name of wife,

If Joan, Kate, Nance, or Molly:
Good wine inspires, do what ye can,
And teaches us to play the inan,

So drink, and let's be jolly.

TT
T was far retir'd from noise and smoke,

O hark! I hear the woodman's stroke,
Who dreains pot as he fells the oak,

What mischief dire he brews;
What art may shape the falling trees,
In aid of luxury or ease,
He weighs not matters such as these,
But sings, and hacks, and hews.
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The

The tree now fell’d by this good man,
Perhaps may form the spruce sedan,
Or wheelbarrow, where Oyster Nan

So vulgar runs her rig;
The stage, where boxers croud in flocks,
Or else the quacks, perhaps the stocks,
Or poles for signs or barber's blocks,

Where shines the parson's wig.

He makes, bold peasant ! O what grief!
The gibbet, whereon hangs the thief,
The seat where sits the great Lord Chief,

The throne, the cobler's stall :
'Tis pompous life in every stage,
Makes tolly’s whim prize equipage,
And children's toys, crutches for age,

And coffins for us all,

Yet justice let us still afford,
The binns that hold gay Bacchus' hoard,
Those chairs and this convivial board,

Confess the woodman's stroke;
He made the press that bled the vine,
The butt that holds the generous wine,
The hall itself where tipplers join,

To crack their mirthful joke.

THE
TIIE breeze was fresh, the ship in stays,

Each breaker hush'd, the shore a hacer
When Jack no more on duty callid,
His true love's tokens overhaul'd;

The

The broken gold, the braided hair,
The tender motto writ so fair,
Upon liis 'bacco box he views,
Nancy the poet, love the muse,
If you loves I as I loves you,
No pair so happy as we two.
The storm, that like a shapeless wreck,
Had strew'd with rigging all the deck,
Thart tars for sharks had given a feast,
And left the ship a hulk, irad ceas'd;
When Jack, as with his messmates dear,
He shar'd the grog, their hearts to chcer,
Took from his 'bacco box a quid
And spelt for comfort on the lid
If you loves I as I loves you,
No pair so happy as we two.
The battle that with brorror grim,
llad madly ravag'd life and limb,
Hlad scuppers drench'd with huinan gore,
And widow'd many a wife, was o'er;
When Jack to his companion dear,
First paid the tribute of a tear,

Then as his 'bacco box he held,
Restor'd his confort as he spellid-
If you loves I as I loves you,
No pair so happy as we two.
The voyage that had been long and hard,
But that had yielded full reward,
That brought each sailor to his friend,
Happy and rich, was at an eud;
Where Jack, his toils and perils o'er,
Beheld bis Vancy on the shorts

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