With Newlands for letters of credit proceed, Pray what would you do, were the people can't read?

But the worst of all dunces, we know very well, Only shew him a Guinea, I warrant he'll spell.

Your lawyers and doctors, and them sort of folks, Who with fees and such fun, you know, never stand

jokes,

In defence of my argument, try the whole tote, Sure they'll all take a Guinea, before a pound note.

The French would destroy all our credit and trade,
If they were not unable, asham'd, or afraid,
They may talk of our king, but let who will be

victor,

They'd be devilish glad, to get hold of his picture.

From this picture so precious, may Britian's ne'er part,

While the glorious original reigns in her heart, And while we've such tars, as our navy can boast. With our king and his picture, we must rule the

roast.

Post Captain.

WHEN Steerwell heard me first impart,
Our brave commander's story,

With ardent zeal his youthful heart
Swell'd high for naval glory,

Resolv'd to gain a valiant name,
For bold adventures eager,

When first a little cabinboy on board the Fame,
He would hold on the jigger;
When ten jolly tars with musical Joe,

Hove the anchor a-peak, singing yeo! heave yoe! Yeo, yeo, yeo, yeo, yeo, yeo, heave yeo! When ten jolly tars, &c.

To hand top-gallant-sails next he learn'd,
With quickness, care, and spirit,
Whose generous master soon disearn'd,
And priz'd his dawning merit.
He taught him soon to reef and steer,
When storms convulse the ocean,
Where shoals made skilful vet'rans fear,
Which mark'd him for promotion;

As none to the pilot ere answer'd like he,
When he gave the command, in the pool or at sea,
Luff, boys, luff! Keep her near!
Clear the buoy! make the pier !
None to the pilot ere answer'd like he,
When he gave the command, in the pool or at sea,
Hard a port! helm a lee!

For valour, skill, and worth renown'd,
The foe he oft defeated;

And now with fame and fortune crown'd,
Post Captain he is rated;

Who, should our injured country bleed,
Still bravely would defend her;
Now blest with peace, if beauty plead,

He'll prove his heart is tender.

Unaw'd, yet mild, to high and low,
To poor and wealthy, friend or foe;
Wounded tars share his wealth,
All the fleet drink his health;

Priz'd be such hearts, for a loft they will go,
Which always are ready compassion to show,
To a brave conquer'd foe.

Crazy Jane.

WHY, fair maid, in ev'ry feature,
Are such signs of fear express'd?
Can a wandering wretched creature
With such terror fill thy breast?
Do my frenzied look alarm thee?
Trust me, sweet, thy fears are vain,
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee;
Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.

Dost thou weep to see my anguish ?
Mark me, and avoid my woe,
When men flatter, sigh, and languish,
Think them false, I found them so :
For I lov'd, oh! so sincerely,
None could ever love again;
But the youth I lov'd so dearly,
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.

Fondly my young heart received him,
Which was doom'd to love but one;
He sigh'd, he vow'd, and I beliey'd him;
He was false, and I undone.

From that hour has reason never
Held her empire o'er my brain?
Henry fled, with him for ever
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.

Now forlorn and broken hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted—
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty-
Still I slowly pace the plain,
While each passer-by in pity,
Cries-God help thee, Crazy Jane.

Battle of the Nile. ARISE, arise, Britannia's sons arise,

And join in the shouts of the patriotic throng: Arise, arise, Britannia's sons arise,

And let the heavens echo with your song: For the genius of Albion victory proclaiming, Forth to the world our rights and deeds maintaining,

And the battle of the Nile

Shall be foremost of the file,

And Nelson, gallant Nelson's name applauded shall be:

Then huzza, huzza! huzza, huzza, huzza, boys, Mars guards for us what freedom did by charter

gain;

Huzza, huzza! huzza, huzza, huzza, boys, Britannia, still Britannia rules the main.

The proud sons of France, with insulting haughty scorn,

Had too long oppress'd the neighbouring inde

pendency,

And vainly did hope their conquest would be borne In armaments triumphant o'er the sea;

But Nelson soon taught them in peals of British thunder,

To the flag of Royal George 'twas their duty to knock under;

And the battle of the Nile

Was decisive, and the spoil

Shall deck the lovely bosoms of each loyal British fair.

In council above rose the deity of war,
Determined to give true valour due renown,
And soon on the brow of each hardy British tar
Was planted a resplendent laurel crown;
While the loud trump of fame o'er earth and ocean
sounded,

While How, Jarvis, Duncan, and Nelson's name resounded,

But the battle of the Nile,

Was the foremost of the file,

And all th' angelic choir sung the glories of that day:

Arouse, arouse, ye sons of mirthful sport,

And receive your protectors with open arms returning,

And view the spoil they with their blood have

bought,

For the glory of this happy, happy isle,