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Sons & daughters

Cottager's daughter

(1) Cottager's daughter

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       W. M'Call, Printer, Cartwright
         Place, Byrom-st., Liverpool.

Ah! tell me, ye swains, have you seen my
O say, have you met the sweet nymph on
your way ?
Transeendant as Venus, and blythe as Au-
From Neptune's bed rising to hail the
new day;
Forlorn do I wander, and long time have
sought her,
The fairest, the rarest, for ever my theme,
A goddess in form, tho' a cottager's daugh-
That dwells on the borders of Aln's wind-
ing stream.

Tho' lordlings so gay, and young 'squires
have sought her,
To link her fair hand in the conjugal
Devoid of ambition, the cottager's daughter
Convinced them their offers and flattery
were vain;
When first I beheld her, I fondly besought
My heart did her homage, and love was
my theme,
She vowed to be mine, the sweet cottager's
That dwells on the borders of Aln's
winding stream.

Then why thus alone does she leave me to
languish ?
Pastora to splendour could ne'er yield
her hand ;
Ah, no, she returns to remove my sad an-
O'er her heart love and truth retain the
The wealth of Golconda could never have
bought her,
For love, truth, and constancy, still is her
Then grant me, kind Hymen, the cottager's
That dwells on the borders of Aln's wind-
ings tream.


               AND YOUNG


               A LOVE SONG.

You tender maidens I pray draw near,
Some feeling verses you soon shall hear,
I'm daily pining in grief and woe,
Since young Reily to sea did go.

In the County Wexford, near to Tinman,
My love was rear'd a rich farmer's son—
I own I lord him just as my life,
And was resolv'd to become his wife.

My parents being of high degree,
And ne'er had e'er a child but me—
I was the heiress of their whole estate,
Both lords and earls on me did wait.

To my misfortune, I went § walk,
And sent for Roily, with him to talk,—
I was deceiv'd by my waiting maid,
She told my mamma what we had said.

My mamma call'd me immediately,
Saying, Dear Susan, can it bo,
That you're in love with a farmer's son ?
When your dadda hears it hell distracted

You know, dear child, he's no match for you
Besides, a Soman,' he is, 'tis true—
Before you bring us now to disgrace,
I'll have him banish'd now out of this place.

"Dear mamma, now pardon me,
There's none I love but poor Willy,
And if I'm prevented to be his wife,
With either sword or pistol I'll end my life.

" If that be so," my mamma cried,
I shall never prevent you to be his bride,
Send for Reily, now privately—
When it's past and all over we'll agree.

Then to the steward my mamma did run,
And order'd him to bring a gun,
He hid himself in a laurel tree,
To take the life of my dear Willy.

I sent for Reily on that same day,
To tell him all my mamma did say,
When the. steward fired with great cruelty,
And graz'd the shoulders of dear Willy.,

Then from his pockets two pistols I drew,
And to Reily the same I threw—
In his own defence he fir'd manfully,
And shot the steward in the laurel tree.

With my true love I fled away,
We were quickly follow'd without delay—
We were surrounded by the tenant crew,
And my true lover wounded Capt. Screw.

I was taken and to prison bound,
When Reily miss'd me he turn'd round,
And call'd the cowards him to pursue—
He fired again and shot Sergeant Gore.

Into Waterford he went straightway,
And stepp'd on ship-beard-without delay,
May the Lord be with him for evermore.

My father mortgag'd his property,
In hopes to drive me to poverty,
But his golden treasure I now deny,
I would beg the world with my Roman boy.

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Ben Block was a vet'ran of naval renown,
And renown was his only reward;
For the Board still neglected his merits to
As no interest had Bern with my lord!
Yet as brave as old Benbow was sturdy old
And he'd laugh at the cannon's loud roar,
When the death dealing broadside made
worm's meat of men,
And the scuppers were streaming with

Nor could a lieutenant's poor stipend pro-
The staunch tar to despise scanty prog;
But his biscuit he'd crack, turn his quid,
crack a joke,
And drown care in a jorum of grog.
Thus year after year in a subaltern state,
Poor Ben for his king fought and bled ;
Till time had unroof'd all the thatch from
his pate,
And the hair from his temples had fled.

When, on humbly saluting, with sincipal
The first lord of the Admiralty once;
Quoth his lordship, ' Lieutenant, you've
lost all your hair,
Since I last had a peep at your sconce.'
'Why, my lord,' replied Ben, 'it with truth
may be said,
While a bald pate I long have stood
There have so many captains walk'd over
my head,
That to see me quite scalp'd 'twere no


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