Saturday Night. TIS said we vent`rous die-hards To bless their sights no more; Bold Jack can't understand; Howe'er we steer, No man's life's under his command, Of those in spite there are some joys, For Saturday night still comes, my boys, One seaman hands the sails, The landlord sells us grog What argufies 'noration? The rest is fortune's whim: Then play your parts, Boldly resolv'd to sink or swim The mighty surge Of those in spite there are some joys For Saturday night still comes, my boys, For all the world, just like To take for life a trip. The shrouds and stays and braces Direct the sails,} As on the sea of life he steers: Heav'ns face deform, And danger press; Of those in spite there are some joys For Saturday night still comes, my boys, Yorkshire Concert. IZE a Yorkshireman just come to town, And my coming to town was a gay day; For fortune has here set me down, Waiting gentleman to a fine lady. My lady gives galas and routs, And her treats of the town are the talk here, But nothing Ize seen hereabouts Equals one that was given in Yorkshire. Rum ti iddle ti iddle ti, &c. Johnny Fig was a green and white grocer, None than John to his shop could stick closer, And astonish the rustic parishioners, And ax'd all the village musicioners. The company met, gay as larks, sir, The baker he sung a good batch; The coachman he flogg'd on with fury; To strike the assembly with wonder, Duet with the Vicar of Bray, sir.' sir, A brine tub half full of beef salted, But the covering crack'd under his feet, sir, Snip was sous'd in the brine, but soon rising, Bawl'd out, while they laugh'd at his grief, sir, "Is't a matter so monstrous surprising, To see pickl'd cabbage with beef, sir?" To a ball then the concert gave way, Honest Ben. I'M call'd honest Ben, but for what I don't know, I only, d'ye see, do my duty! 'Tis every one's place for to lighten the woe That presses down virtue and beauty. Why gold was first made, I can't tell, to be sure, Unless it was meant for to cherish the poor, Once honest Bill Bobstay, a true-hearted lad, Who soon got from Bill all the money he had, My pockets with prize-money then were well lin❜d, Their transport made him nearly out of his mind, And me for the act full amends. In that gallant fight t'other day off the Nile, Thinks I, here's rough news for his prattlers and They'll scarcely survive the sad shock, So I'll save my rhino to soften their fate, And steer them from poverty's rock. If safely thro' life's troubled sea you would steer, And make the right haven at last, Still kindly all messmates distress'd strive to cheer, For my part I know tars must fight and must fall, |