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,
But repented his bargain just at the church-door;
Och! burn me, says I, 'tis a pity I'm thinking,
Allur'd by the rhino, myself intercedes,
And got married-

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,
The housekeepers, the strays, and the lodgers,
Where low dev'ls, rich dons, and high rips may be
found,

Odd dickins, queer kids, and rum codgers.
Of money and property,

I'm he that takes the care,

And cries, when I see rogues go by,
Hey! what do you do there.

(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,
Another fine Miss I discover,

For a curious rope-ladder I straightway espies,
And Miss Forward expecting her lover.
Then to each other's arms they fly,

My life, my soul—Ah, ah!

Fine work, Miss, out upon't, cries I,
I'll knock up your papa.

(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.
Then such a hubbub and din,

How they blaspheme and curse :
That thief has stole my diamond pin,
Watch! watch! I've lost my purse!

(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 ;
Thus from all roguery I gets free,

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?
Made this town a heav'n on earth,
Oh! they're all fled with thee,

Robin Adair.