The tories wore wigs, in the reign of Queen Anne; Now wigs suit the female, as well as the man;

No crops, but in corn fields, you'd formerly meet, Now there's few in the fields, and enough in the street.

However the fashions are subject to change,
One fashion remains, if it didn't 'twere strange;
'Twas always the fashion, each Englishman kuows,
To be true to our king, and to humble our foes.

Now fashion's arriv'd at a wonderful height,
For what's borish at noon, is quite stilish at night,
So they bore ye with stile, and they stile you a bore;
As, perhaps, you may me, if I sing any more:
So without any pother, of this, that, or t'other,
I'll e'en take my leave and begone.

Norah's Complaint.

THE meadows look cheerful, the birds sweetly sing,

So gaily they carol the praises of spring;
Though nature rejoices, poor Norah must mourn,
Until her dear Patrick again shall return.

Ye lasses of Dublin! ah, hide your gay charms! Nor lure my dear Patrick from Norah's fond arms; Though satins, and ribands, and laces are fine, They hide not a heart with such feelings as mine.

Lullaby.

PEACEFUL slumb'ring on the ocean,
Seamen fear no danger nigh;

The winds and waves in constant motion,
Soothe them with their lullaby.

Is the wind tempestuous blowing?
Still no danger they descry;
The guiltless heart its boon bestowing,
Soothe them with its lullaby.

The Village Sawyer and Lawyer. TO set up a village, with tackle for tillage, Jack Carter he took to the saw;

To pluck and to pillage, the same little village,
Tim Gordon he took to the law:

They ogl'd so pliant, for gull and for client,
As sharp as a wease! for rats;

3

Till what with their saw-dust, and what with their law-dust,

They blinded the eyes of the flats.

Then hey for the sawyer, and hey for the lawyer; Make hay, for 'tis going to rain:

And saw 'em and law 'em, and work 'em and quirk 'em,

And at 'em again and again.

Jack sent to the people a bill for the steeple,
They swore that they would not be bit;

And out of a saw-pit and into a law-pit,
Tim tickl'd 'em up with a writ.

U

Cries Jack, the saw grasper, "I say, neighbour Rasper,

We both of us buy in the stocks;

While I, for my savings, turn blocks into shavings, You lawyers are shaving the blocks."

Then hey for the sawyer, &c. 1

Jack frolick'd in clover, and when work was over, Got drunk at the George, for a freak ;

But Timothy Gordon, he stood for churchwarden,
And eat himself dead in a week:

Jack made him a coffin, and Timothy off in't;
A loud clap of thunder had flown;

Here lawyers lie level, be sure that the devil
Looks sharp enough after his own.

Then hey for the sawyer, &c.

A Peep at the Seraglio.

PEEP'D in the grand Seraglio,

Where the Turks keep their ladies snugly, O;
The ladies there

Are fat and fair,

But the gemmen are monstrous ugly, 0:
A bearded bashaw twenty-five wives controuls,
For their law says women have no souls!

(Spoken.) O, its a bouncer! but these Turkish foreigners are a different kind of stuff to our English ladies, for they, bless 'em, are all pretty souls,

and don't want for spirit, as we all know, when "the grey mare is the better horse;" and if the Ottomy ladies had but a little hedification at Billingsgate, the flat-fish would soon prove themselves fine soles, and make it all hot-cockles with the muscle-men.

With a ting tang, whing whang, &c.

They made me rather tinglish, O,
They strut about so kinglyish, O,
But then d'ye see,

Such fools they be,

Not one of 'em knows good English, O!
Like nanny-goats such beards they sport,
And the place they call the sublime grand Porte.

(Spoken.) Port! I haven't seen a drop since I came into the place; they drink no wine, because they're all rum subjects; Mr. Mahomet wou'dn't let nobody get drunk but himself: so they smoke crosslegg'd, like tailors, and tosticake themselves with opium till they look as wise as an owl in a fit of perplexity. With their ting tang, &c.

Of Turkey much they have boasted, 0,`
But since I hear have posted, O,

No Turkey, see,

Say I, for me,

Except it is boiled or roasted, O!

The mighty grand Turks, when he likes, ne'er fails, To cut off their heads, but he giv's 'em three tails.

(Spoken.) In Turkey, heads and tails depend all on the toss up of a ha'penny; and when the sultan wants the mopusses, he orders them to strangle the first bashaw they can catch, who dutifully sends

him his head in a hand basket, and keeps three tails for his own consolation. O,give me little England, where a man's head is his own freehold property, and his house is his castle; and whoever touches a hair of the one, or the latch of the other, without leaves is sure to get the door in his face, and his head in his hand, With a ting tang, &c.

The Cosmetic Doctor.

BELIEVE me, believe me, in country and town, No cosmetic, no cosmetic, but mine would go down;

Both young ones and old ones would flock at my call,

And for pimples and wrinkles they purchas'd it all,
The sweet creatures would cry,
Your art, sir, I'll try,

For a freckle I spy,

Just below my left eye,

To the face pale and van give the blush of the rose,
And place on the cheek what I found on the nose.
Some smirking, some jerking,

Soine crummy, some guminy,
Eyes askew, noses blue,

Sallow cheek made so sleek;

'Bove all commendation my trade is;

Smiling face, prate a-pace, Tell the news, all amuse, Aim to show what's the go; That's the way, now a-day, To shine as a man for the ladies.