Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley

THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
The Chimney Sweeper.
'X'MO' late and early I do pad,
■^ A bawling fwecp-foot-ho I
^"^t iliUam I asbliihe a lad,
As e'ev you'd wifh to L-nov,' :
And when the ladies fine I hear
Cry " take care of the fu eep I"
*' Ladies" fay I " you need not fear,"
But I'm for them too deep :
For I gives 'em a tniut
Of my bag full of foot.
They cry " curfe you, mind how you go,"
" Dear me, ma'am," fays I, '
•" I was juft brufliing by,"
And I'm off with my fvveep-foot-ho !
And when difguis'd I meet the devil,
I love to have fome fun ;
.A lawyer I mean — the greateft evil
That thrives beneath the fun :
■For fure we both, beyond aUdoubt,
Are to the devil a kin :
■ The diff 'rence is, I'm black without.
The lawyer's black within^
I gives him a fmut
Of my bag full of foot,
He cries " daiume, mind how you go !"
" Sir" lays I " pray,
" Do keep out or the way,"
And I'm off with my fweep-foot-ho !
Your flaihy folks dreft fine and gay,
As thro' the'ftreets I go,
All in an inflant clear the way,
At found of Iweep-foot ho :
And thus I gammons all the folks, '
I care not great or fmall,
I laughs, I fings, I cracks my jokes.
And fomething fays to all ;
Vor I gives 'em a-lmut
Of my bag full of foot,
They cry " prithee mind how you go,"
" O dear, fir," fays I,
" I was juft brulhing by,"
And I'm off with my fweep-foot-ho !
Death or Liberty.
WHILST happy in my native land,
I boaft my country's charter ;
I'll never bafely lend my hand
Her liberties to barter :
The noble mind is not at all
By poverty degraded ;
"Tis guilt alone can make us fall ;
And well I am perluaded.
Each free-born Briton s fong fliall be,
Give me d:ath or liberty !
Gixe me death, Si.
Tho* fmall the pow'r which fortune grants.
And few the gifts fhe fends us :
The lordly hireling of en wants
That freedom which defends us :
By law fecur'd from lawlefs flrife.
Our houfe is our cafiellum :
Thus blefs'd with all that's dear in life^
For lucre ITaall we fell them ?
No, ev'ry Briton's fong fhall be.
Give me death or liberty !
Give me deaih, 'Sc.
The Triumph of Ceres,
OR HARVEST HOME.
TTrHAT chearful founds falute our ears,
* ' And echo o'er the lawn !
Behold 1 the loaded car appears,
In joyful triumph drawn ;
The nymphs and fvains, a jovial band,
Still ftijutiag as they come,
Wi;h ruftic inftTunients in hai.d,
Proclaim the harvtfl-home.
1 he golden flieaves, pil'd up onhigh.
Within the barn art ftor'd ;
The careful hind, with fecret joy
Exulting, \iewshis hoard.
His labours paft, he counts his gains ;
And, freed from anxiou* care.
His calks are broach'd ; the fun-burnt.fwains
His rural plenty fhare.
In dance and fong the night is fpent4
All ply the fpicy bowl :
And jefts and harmlefs merriment
Expand the artlefs foul.
Young Colin whifpers Rofalind,
Who ftill reap'd by his fide;
And plights his troth, if fhe prove kind,
To take her for his bride.
For joys like theft, through circling years.
Their toilfome tafk they tend :
The hind fucceffive labour bears,
In profpeft of the end :
In fpring, or winter, fows his feed,
Manures or tills the foil ;
In fummer various cares fucceed ;
tut harvell crowns his toil.
Thomas and Sally.
"P ^IR Sally lov'd a bonny feaman,
-*- With tears fhe fent him out to roam,
Young Thomas lov'd no other woman,
But left his heart with her at home ;
She view'd the fea from off the hill,
And, as fhe turn'd her fpinning-wheel,
Sung of her bonny faUor.
The wind grew loud, and fhe grew paler
To i'ee the weathercock turn round.
When, lo I ftie fpied her boimy failor
Come {inging o'er the fallow ground ;
With nimble hafte he leap'd the ilile.
Fair Sally met him with a fmile,
And hugg'd her bonny failor.
Faft round the walft he took his Sally,
But firfl around his mouth wip'd he :
Like home-bred fpark he could not dally.
But prefs'd and kifs'd her with a glee ;
" Through winds and waves anddafhing ralti,
Said he, thy Tom's return 'd again
To bring a heart for Sally."
' Welcome! cried fhe,' my conftant Thomas,
Though out of fight, ne'er out of mind ;
Though feas our hearts have parted from us.
Yet flill my thoughts were left behind :
So much my thoughts took Tommy's part, .
That time nor ablence from my heart
Could drive my conflant 1 homas.'
" This knife, the gift of lovely Sally,
Which fliil I've kept for her dear fake,
A thoufand times in amorous folly
Her name has carv'd upon the deck !
Again this happy pledge returns.
To fhew how truly Thomas burns,
How truly burns for Sally."
' This thimble, thou didft give to Sally,
Whene'er I fee I think on you ;
Then wTiy fhould Tom ftand fhjlly-fhally.
When yonder lleeple is in view ?'
Tom, never to occafion blind,
Now took her in the coming mind,
And went to church v.'ith Sallv.