[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

      THE WILD ROVER.

When I was a young man I roved up and down,
Through every city and fine market town :
Ale-houses and taverns I made them to roar,
But now I will play the wild Rover no more.

It was in Edinburgh city I first did begin,
With cunning girls spent many a pound,
But the landlady slily would double the score,
But now I will play the wild Rover no more.

It was next town to Glasgow I now took my way,
With Nancy and Sally I spent the whole day,
I met with young Molly as bright as the sun ;
She brought me to repentance before it was long.

She agreed with me in my chamber to lie,
I though I had got a sweet armful of joy,
But when I was sleeping I found she was gone,
My money and cloathing had also put on.

This impudent girl to use me so base,
I applied to the whisky my spirits for to raise,
For a glass of good liquor our spirits will cheer,
It drowns all our sorrows and drives away care.

By Stirling to Perth as I marched along,
My heart it was light as the whisky was strong,
I loved it so dearly I pawned all my clothes,
Which brought me into limbo in spite of my nose.

Then I went to an alehouse where I used to resort,
Where many a pound I had foolishly spent,
I asked her to trust me, but her answer was no,
You word is a bauble, its not worth a straw.

This usage so base, from a woman so bad,
Makes thousands of things run into my head,
It opened my eyes which were quite shut before,
But now I will play the wild Rover no more.

You brave soldiers and sailors, and tradesmen also,
Take care of your money wherever you go ;
Take a warning by me who has tried so before,
But now I will play the wild Rover no more.

George Walker, Jun., Printer Durham.

      Betsey Baker.

From noise and bustle far away,
Hard work my time employing,
How happily I pass each day,
Content and health enjoying ;
The birds did sing and so did I,
As I trudg'd o'er each acre,
I never knew what it was to sigh,
Till I saw Betsy Baker.

At church I met her drest so neat,
One Sunday in hot weather,
With love I found my heart did beat,
As we sung psalms together ;
So piously she hung her head
The while her voice did shake, ah !
I though if ever I did wed,
'Twould be with Betsey Baker.

From her side I could not budge,
And sure I thought no harm on't,
My elbow then she gave a nudge,
And bade me mind the sarment ;
When church was o'er out she walk'd,
But I did overtake her,
Determin'd I would not be baulk'd
I spoke to Betsy Baker.

Her manner's were genteel and cool,
I found on conversation,
She'd just come from a boarding school,
And finished her education ;
But love made me speak out quite free,
Says I, I've many an acre,
Will you give me your company ?—
' I shan't,' says Betsy Baker.

All my entreaties she did slight,
And I was forced to leave her,
I got no sleep all that there night,
For love had brought a fever.
The doctor came, he smelt his cane,
With long face like a quaker,
Said he, " Young man pray where's your pain ?'
Says I, ' Sir, Betsey Baker.

Because I was not bad enough,
He bolus'd and he pilled me,
And if I had taken all his stuff,
I think he must ha'e kill'd me ;
I put an end to all my strife,
'Twixt him and the undertaker,
And what d'ye think 'twas saved my life,
Why—thoughts of Betsy Baker.

I then again to Betsy went,
Once more with love attack'd her,
But meantime she'd got acquainted with
A ramping mad play-actor,
If she would have him he did say,
A lady he would make her ;
He gammoned her to run away,
And I lost Betsey Baker.

I fretted very much to find,
My hopes of love so undone,
And mother thought 'twould ease my mind,
If I came up to London ;
But tho' I strive another way,
My thoughts still ne'er forsake her,
I dream all night and think all day,
Of cruel Betsy Baker.

                                                      [111]