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       All Round My Cap.

All round my cap I wears a green vhittle,
All round my cap on ev'ry market day,
Any one who arks me, the reason vhy I years it,
I toll's them its to keep the cold wind away.
(Spoken.)—"Here's your fine fresh Salmon.
                                          All round, &c.

Oh! my love to the fair to take me had a mind to,
But a Policeman he came and took him on the sly :
(Spoken.)—" Here's your raw Lobsters !"
To tear Him in pieces my heart vos inclin'd to,
But before I could try, he'd got too far avay.
(Spoken.—)—" Here's your hard roed Herrings."
                                          All round, &c.

For five long years my love and I vere parted,
For two more long years my love has got to stay :
(Spoken.)—" I'm a blow'd long while selling my
stock o' fish to day"
May the devil take the vomen, vot'd ever be falsehearted,
Oh ! I'll love my true love, altho' he's far avay !
(Spoken.)—" Here's your Native Oysters and
large Shrimps for sauce"
                                          All round, &c.

There-is some young vomen so vanton and so vild too,
A courting of the young men, and then they go astray:
(Spoken.)—" Here's your fine Cods and live Eels"
Before they get married they often' get a child too,
And then they cry and fret for the time that's gone
avay.
(Spoken.)—" Do you vant any Maids to day sir"
                                          All round, &c.

Oh, my love gave me a ring on the day poor chap he
started,
And I'll keep it safe, till he comes back to me,
(Spoken)—| Lor bless his heart"
And then ve'll be married and ve'll never more be parted,
And ve'll soon forget the time, that he's been across
the sea.
                                          All round, &c.

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        My Father's Sword ;

     Or, the Song of the Soldier
                         Roy.

  (original, ry redford clisby.)

  Air.—" The Girl I left behind me.

My father was in battle slain,
But e'er he died, he bade me
To wield his sword when e'er again
My country's wrong should need me.-
" My boy," he cried, " 'twas e'er my pride,
To fight for home and beauty,
'Gainst Britain's foes, my sword I've rose,
And have boldly done my duty."

I took the sword, and to my side,
With tearful eyes did bind it;
" May thy curse descend on me," I cried,
" If war unsheathed e'er find it.
May I from home, an outcast roam,
May I be spurn'd by Beauty,
If for England's cause, her King and laws,
I refuse to do my duty."

Since then I've been where tempests blow,
And the thundering cannons rattle !
In foreign lands have fought the foe,
True glory earn'd in battle.
And when I fear, my sword to rear,
In defence of home and Beauty,
May the curse of shame cling to my name,
For neglecting my duty.

  Walker, Printer, Durham.

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