Mister Henry Hase.

IN an age when each day teems with wonders around,

And this thing or that to surprise you is found;
Let me sing, and my song to the witchery trace
Of the far and near fam'd Mister Henry Hase:
O dear Mister Hase!

O sweet Mister Hase!

All the world are in love with that dear MisterIIase!

Then this notified man, and I don't mean to vapour,
By a magical process works wonders on paper;
And yet, if you copy his works, people say,
Mister Henry Hase has a curs'd hanging way.
O dear Mister Hase! &c.

That his looks create pleasure I'm free to confess,
And few things more soft than his card of address:
Then he sings, O he warbles! as truth daily quotes,
So charming there's nothing can equal his notes!
O dear Mister Hase! &c.

And since all his works to such pleasing ways tend,
May the friends of humanity find him a friend;
May the foes to the slave-trade, in this or that place,
Never want while they breathe Mister Henry Hase.
O dear Mister Hase! &c.

In a word, every Briton in Britain's free land
I hope Mister Hase will long take by the hand!
And should fortune's frowns turn the bolt on their

pocket,

May the strong Mister Hase prove the key to un

lock it.

O dear Mister Hase! &c,

I'll love you, sweet Mary, rely.

I LOVE you, cried Harry, so fond and so dearly, You never shall find me untrue;

And, if you'll believe me, can tell you sincerely, I never lov'd maiden but you:

O then let our hearts, which should separate never, Be bound in the conjugal tie!

And Mary! sweet Mary! I'll love you for ever, For ever, for ever, rely.

Though others, he cried, may lay grandeur before you,

And tempt you with baubles mòre fine;

Can they boast of a heart that was made to adore

you,

More true, or more tender than mine?

O no! and, when married, thro' life will endeavour To banish from thee e'en a sigh;

And Mary! sweet Mary! I'll love you for ever, For ever, for ever, rely.

Thus press'd and caress'd by a youth so endearing, What could I, or should a maid do?

Why, gave with attention his passion a hearing; And so, I think somehow, would you:

Nay more, we were married, and never to sever; For still the fond husband does cry,

Dear Mary! sweet Mary! I'll love you for ever, For ever, for ever, rely,

Jack at Greenwich.

WE tars are all for fun and glee,
A hornpipe was my notion;
Time was, I'd dance with any he,
That sails the salt sea ocean:

I'd tip the roll, the slide, the reel,
Back, forward, in the middle:
And roast the pig, and toe and heel,‍
All going with the fiddle:

But one day told a shot to ram,
To chase the foe advancing,
A splinter queer'd my larboard gam,
And, damme, spoilt my dancing.

Well, I'm, says I, no churlish elf,
We messmates be all brothers;
Though I can't have no fun myself,
I may make fun for others.

A fiddle soon I made my own,
That girls and tars might caper;
Learnt "Rule Britannia," Bobbing Joan,"
And grow'd a decent scraper :

33 66

But just as I the knack on't got,
And did it pretty middling,

I lost my elbow by a shot,
And, damme, spoilt my fiddling,

So, sometimes as I turn'd my quid,
I got a knack of thinking,
As I should live an invalid,

And then I took to drinking:

One day call'd down my gun to man, To tip it with the gravy;

I gave three cheers, and took the can, To drink "The British Navy :"

Before a single drop I'd sipt,
Or got it to my muzzle,
A langridge off my daddle whipt,
And, damme, spilt the guzzle.

So, then I took to taking snuff,
'Cause how my sorrows doubled,
And pretty pastime 'twas enough,
D'ye see, when I was troubled:

But Fortune, that mischievous elf,
Still at some fun or other,-
Not that I minds it for myself,
But just for Poll and mother:

One day, while laying on a tack,
To keep two spanking foes off:
A broadside comes, capsizes Jack,
And, damme, knocks my nose off.

So in misfortune's school grown tough,
In this same sort of knowledge;
Thinking, mayhap, I'd got enough,
They sent me here to College:

And here we tell old tales and smoke,
And laugh while we are drinking;
Sailors, you know, will have their joke,
E'en though the ship were sinking:

For I, while I get grog to drink,
My wife, or friend, or king in:
"Twill be no easy thing, I think,
Damme, to spoil my singing.

Lodgings for Single Gentlemen.

WHO has e'er been in London that overgrown place,

Has seen

66 Lodgings to let," stare him full in the face:

Some are good, and let dearly, while some, 'tis well known,

Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone, Derry down, down, down, derry down.

Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely
Hir'd lodgings that took single gentlemen only;
But Will was so fat he appear'd like a tun,
Or like two single gentlemen roll'd into one,

He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated, But all the night long, he felt fever'd and heated; But though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep, He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep.