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HY droops my Nan, and why those tears!
Cheerful, my girl, dispel those fears;
go, my Nan, my country's friend,
WHO better knows the
world than I, A newsman is my calling, And in all weathers, wet or dry,
Rare news I'm always bawling;
My papers to enhance,
But just arriv'd from France !
Search round the world, you'll find 'tis true,
The one half of mankind,
The other half to blind :
Drives on thro' lite so cheerly,
Some thousand folks cure yearly;
And puff their schemes so fair;
Then trap the rich man's heir. Others, to catch the fair, will puff
for ladies faces;
Which gives a thousand graces ;
Gain half their fame by puffing;
Their pockets mean-time stuffing:
The aim the golden stuff;
But give ye puff for puff,
WHY, what's that to you, if my eyes I'm 2
A tear is a pleasure, d'ye see, in its way: 'Tis nonsense for trifles, I own, to be piping,
But they that ha'nt pity, why I pities they : Says the Captain, says he, I shall never forget it, If of courage you'd know, lads, the true from
the sham, 'Tis a furious lion in battle, so let it,
But duty appeas'd, 'tis in mercy a lamb. There was bustling Bob Bounce, for the old one
not caring, Helter skelter, to work, pelt away, cut, and drive;
sing, Swearing, he, for his part, had no notion of spar
Why, as for a foe, why he'd eat him alive. But when that'he found an old prisoner he'd
wounded, That once sav'd his life, as near drowning he
swam; The lion was tam'd, and with pity confounded,
He cried over him just all as one as a lamb. That my friend, Jack or Tom, I should rescue
from danger, · Or lay my life down for each lad in the mess, Is nothing at all; 'tis the poor wounded
stranger, And the poorer the more I shall succour distress; For however their duty bold tars may delight in,
And peril defy as a bug-bear or fam; Tho'the lion may feel surly pleasure in fighting, Jle'll feel more by compassion when turu'd to a lankb,
The heart and the eyes you see feel the same
motion, And if both shed their drops 'tis all to the
same end; And thus 'tis that every tiglit lad of the ocean, Sheds his blood for his country, his tears for
his friend If my maxim's disease, 'tis disease I shall die on,
You may snigger and titter, I do'nt care a damn! In me let the foe feel the paw of the lion,
But, the battle once ended, the heart of a lamb.
And calmly friendship's joys resign'd; But ah! how keen my sorrows grew,
When my true love I left behind.
Yet, should her truth feel no decay;
Should absence prove my charmer kind; Then shall not I lament the day,
When my true love I left behind.
N the world's crooked path where I've been,
, The bright sunshine, that soften’d the scene,
Was a smile from the girl of my heart.
Not a swain, when the lark quits her nest,
But to labour, with glee, will depart,
With a smile from the girl of his heart.
Come then crosses and cares as they may,
Let my mind still this maxim impart,
Is--a smile from the girl of his heart,
TRAVERS'D Juda's barren sand,
At beauty's altar to adore;
And Siou's daughters were no more.
The wanton look, the leering eye,
Where Constancy is never nigh.
From thence to Italy's fair shore
I bent my never-ceasing way,
A mind devoted still to pray:
Had sickly'd ev'ry feature o'er ;
Where beauty fills the western shore;
Where IIymen, with celestial pow'r,
Connubial transport doth adorn ; Where purest virtue sports the hour
That ushers in each happy morn.