So to London I drove, to avoid the disaster, There to drive hackney coaches engag'd for the pelf, And honestly out of my fares paid my master Two-thirds, and kept only one half for myself. And sing high gee, wo, here we go, merry and frisky, O'Lashem's the boy for to tip the long trot. I took up a buck, and 'cause 'twas the fashion, He got on the box, and made me mount inside, So as I didn't much like to put him in a passion, Thinks I, while I'm walking I may as well ride; But I couldn't help laughing to think how the hinder Wheels after the foreones most furiously paid, When a wheel broke its leg, split the coach out of window, And my head and the pavement at nut-cracking play'd. I next drove a couple, one morn, to get married, The bride was turn'd sixty, the bridegroom a score, For the sake of her money the courtship he carried, drinking, soon after she died of hard And left me a widow forlorn in my weeds. After fingering the cash which I got by my marriage I drank success to all kind of misfortunes I'd made, And bought me a fine bran new second hand car riage, Became my own Jarvis, and drove a good trade; And my coach and my horses, in case of invasion, I'll lend to the troops, and I'll join in the strife; And if I am kilt in defence of the nation, "Twill make me a hero the rest of my life. Parting Moments. WHILE I hang on your bosom, distracted to lose you, High swells my poor heart, and fast my tears flow, Yet think not of coldness they fall to accuse you; Did I ever upbraid you? Oh no, my love, no! I own it would please me, at home could you tarry, Nor e'er feel a wish from Maria to go, But if it gives pleasure to you, my dear Harry, Shall I blame your departure? Oh! no, my love, no! Now do not, dear Hal, while abroad you are straying, That heart, which is mine, on a rival bestow; Nay, banish that frown, such displeasure betraying, Do you think I suspect you? Oh! no,my love,no! I believe you too kind for one moment to grieve me, Or plant in a heart which adores you such woe: Yet should you dishonour my truth, and deceive me, Should I e'er cease to love you? Oh! no, my love, no! The Watchman. A WATCHMAN I am, I know all the rounds, Odd dickins, queer kids, and rum codgers. I'm he that takes the care, And cries, when I see rogues go by, (Spoken.) Only a little business in that there house; you understand me. Understand you! well, I believe you are an honest man: do you hear me, brime me an old silver candlestick. Then to my box I creep, And then fall fast asleep. St. Paul's strike one; Thus after all the mischief's done, I goes and gives them warning; And loudly bawls, While strikes St. Paul's, Past one o'clock, and a cloudy morning, Then round as the hour I merrily cries, For a curious rope-ladder I straightway espies, My life, my soul—Ah, ah! Fine work, Miss, out upon't, cries I, (Spoken.) No, no, you won't.-I shall: worthy old soul, to be treated in this manner!-Here, here, take this.-Oh! you villain; want to bribe an honest watchman; and with such a trifle too!— Well, well, here is more !-More! you seem to be a spirited lad, now go: make her a good husband: I am glad you trick'd the old hunks. Good night. I wish you safe to Gretna Green. Then to my box I creep, And then fall fast asleep. What's that? St. Paul's strikes two; The lovers off, what does I do But gives the father warning; And loudly bawls, As strikes St. Paul's, Past two o'clock, and a cloudy morning. Then towards the square, from my box I looks, I hear such a ranting and roaring, 'Tis Pharaoh's whole host, and the pigeons and rooks, Are laughing, and singing, and swearing. How they blaspheme and curse : (Spoken.) Watch! watch! here, I charge you; honest people can't go home without being robbed. -Which is the thief?—That's the thief who tricked me out of two hundred pounds this evening.—Ah, that you know is all in the way of business; but which is the thief that stole the gentleman's purse? -That's him.-What, Sam Snatch! give it to me, Sam. He has not got your purse-you are mistaken in your man. Go home peaceably, and don't oblige me to take you to the watch-house. Then to my box I creep, And then falls fast asleep; What's that? St Paul's strikes three ; By giving people warning; And loudly bawls, As strikes St. Paul's, Past three o'clock, and a cloudy morning, Robin Adair. WHAT's this dull town to me? Robin's not near. What is 't I wish to see? What wish to hear? Where's all the joy and mirth? Robin Adair. |