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I'ze able and strong and willing to work,
And when the lark rises off trudges I;
The cows up I call, and harness old Ball,

I whistle, I whistle, and whoop gee woo, Jerry, I cry.
Then Tze fifty good shillings, my luck has been such,
And a lad's not to be grinned at that's gotten so much;
And when that I'm married to Patty so true,

I know what I know, but I munna tell you.

But I'll whistle, I'll whistle, &c.

THE CHAIN I GAVE WAS FAIR TO

VIEW.

[LORD BYRON.]

THE chain I gave was fair to view,
The lute I added sweet in sound,
The heart that offered both was true,
And ill deserved the fate it found.

These gifts were charmed by secret spell,
Thy truth in absence to divine;
And they have done their duty well;
Alas! they could not teach thee thine.

That chain was firm in every link,

But not to bear a stranger's touch;
That lute was sweet,-till thou couldst think
In other hands its notes were such.

Let him, who from thy neck unbound
The chain, when shivered in his grasp;
Who saw that lute refuse its sound,
Re-string the chords, renew the clasp.

When thou wert changed, they altered too;
The chain is broke, the music mute:

"Tis past,

-to them and thee adieu !—

False heart,-frail chain,—and silent lute !

FOLLOW, FOLLOW OVER MOUNTAIN.

FOLLOW, follow over mountain,
Follow, follow over sea,

And I'll guide thee to love's fountain,
If you'll follow, follow me.
Follow, follow me, &c.

With the waters of the fountain,
Will I ease thy aching heart,
And the roses of the mountain
Shall to thee a balm impart.
Follow, follow, &c.

For woman's love is dearly bought,
If bought with peace of mind;
But taste the fount, and not a thought
Of love is left behind.

Follow, follow, &c.

TRAVELLERS SEE STRANGE THINGS.

THOMAS DIBDIN,]

[Music by CORRI.

In England I've seen the brave sons of roast beef
Raised high on prosperity's wings,

Saw wealth and good-humour beyond all belief;
But travellers see. strange things.

Strange things, strange things,
Travellers see strange things.

That you'll doubt my narration I feel pretty sure,
Though I soar not on fabulous wings:

I've seen honest lawyers, and doctors that cure;
But travellers see strange things.

Strange things, &c.

Believe me no falsehood I wish to advance,

From truth my authority springs ;

I've seen England can never be conquered by France;

But travellers see strange things.

Strange things, &c.

WAITING FOR THE SPRING.

FREDERICK ENOCH.]

[Music by HENRY SMART.

ALL the fields were silent, sleeping,

All the woods were bleak aud bare,
But I knew each bough was keeping

Bloom to meet the sunshine there;
For the stream that seem'd to listen,
And the bird that long'd to sing,
And the flow'r to burst and glisten,
All were waiting for the spring!

Like the fields and woodlands sleeping
Oft the heart in sadness lies,
While the germ of hope is keeping
Promise-bloom for brighter skies:
And that hope foretels elating
There are joys that time may bring,
So the heart is ever waiting,
Ever waiting for the spring!

'TIS TIME TO FLY.

SAMUEL LOVER.]

[Music by LOVER.

BEWARE the chain love's wreathing,
When some sweet voice you hear,
Whose gentlest, simplest breathing
Is music to thine ear;
And when, in glances fleeting,
Some deep and speaking eye
With thine is often meeting,
Oh then-'tis time to fly !

If there be form of lightness
To which thine eyes oft stray,
Or neck of snowy brightness—
Remembered when away ;

These symptoms love resemble,

And when some hand is nigh,
Whose touch doth make thee tremble,
Oh then-'tis time to fly !

But if that voice of sweetness,
Like echo, still return;
And if that eye of brightness
With fascination burn;
To 'scape thou art not able,
No effort vainly try,
For, like the bird in fable,
Alas! thou canst not fly!

HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN HUGO ?

ROBERT B. BROUGH.]

[Music by M. W. BALFE.
WHO has here, far or near,.seen Hugo?
Since the dawn he's been gone, sad Hugo,
Not to chase the buck or doe,
For he's left his spear and bow,
And his bugle, in a row, false Hugo.
Oh, false Hugo! Oh, sad Hugo!
If you've gone to hunt, I fear
I can guess what kind of deer—
Still has anybody here seen Hugo?

In the night, long ere light, rose Hugo,
Sprucely dress'd in his best, vain Hugo,
In a silver button'd hood,

In his hat a new plume stood,
For a baron's son too good, vain Hugo.
Oh, vain Hugo ! Oh, false Hugo !
Did you e'er so smart appear
For the maid you call your dear-
Still has anybody here seen Hugo?

So at last, not so fast, friend Hugo!
Not a kiss-eh? what's this? oh, Hugo!
When I thought you on the wing,
You had been to buy the ring ;
You're a darling and a king, my Hugo.
Ob, dear Hugo! oh, my Hugo !
I've been asking for you here,
I was certain you'd appear;
Was there ever such a dear as Hugo?

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