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

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THE
CHARMS OF MELODY,
O R
SIREN MEDLEY.
The Plan of the Publillier is to embody in one Grand Folto Volume, all the Songs, ancient and modern, worth prefervinp, in tUe
Englifh Language ; forming an ITniverfal Magazine of Love, Sentiniental,War, Hunting, Drinking, Sea, and Political. Songs'; as wefl
as Old Englifh, [rifli and Scotch Ballads, Legendaries, Sec. &c. To which will be added, a complete Index.
Gluggity, glug, went the Bottle.
Sung in the Entertainment of ' Fsujal Times.'
A JOLLY fa* friar lovM liquor, good ftore,
And he had dranfe ftoutly at fupper;
He mounted his horfe, in the night, at the door,
And fat with his face to the crupper —
" Some rogue," quoth the friar, " quite dead to
remorfe,
" Some thief, whom a halter -will throttle —
" Some fcoundrel has cut off the head of my horfe.,
" Whilft I was engag'dwith the bottle;
" Which went gluggity, gluggity, glug."
The tail of his Heed poi-nted fouth, on the dale,
'Twas the friar's road home, ftrait and level;
But, when fpur'd, a horfe follows his nofe, not his
tail.
So he fcamper'd due north, like a devil.—
" This new mode of docking" the fat friar faid,
" I perceive doefn't make a horfe trot ill^
"And 'tis cheap — for he never can est v^ithout head,
" While I am engag'd with the bottle ;
" M hich goes gl^^ggrty, &c."
The fteed made a flop — in the pond he had got ;
He was rither for drinking than grazing.;
Quoth the friar " 'tis ttrange headlels horfes fhould
trot !
" But to drink with t'heir tails is amazing !"
Turning round to find whence this phenomenon
rofe,
In the pondfell this fon of a pottle ;
Quoth he " the head's found, for I'm under his nofe,
" I wifh I were over the bottle !
" Wliich goes gluggity, &c
Tho' Prudence may prefs me.
Sung in '' The DeJertEf].
THO' prudence may prefs me,
And duty d 1ft re Is me,
Againft inclination, ah ! what can ihey do ?
No longer a rover,
fjis follies are over.
My heart, my fond heart, fays tqy Henry is tntc.
The bee thus as changing.
From fweet to fueet ranging,
A rofe fhould he light on, ne'er wifhes to llray,
With raptures poffeffing,
In one ev^ry blefllng,
'Till torn from her bofom he flies far away.
The Maid of the Wold.
'Sung in the Entertainment of ' Feudal Times.''
OH, the maid of the Wold, how Ihe travers'd the
land.
To court the rude touches of winter's chill hand.
The wind on her bofom of lilies blew bleak.
And the fnow fell, in flakes, onthe rofe of -her cheek.
Drear, drear, v/as the profpeft; all clouded the flcy;
But the funfhine of Liberty beam'd in her eye:
She cry 'd, while the wetfromherringletsfheprefs'd,
" I am free.as the blaft that blow* over my breafi!"
Sweet maid of the wold! as unftieher'd you ftray,
In that blifs of the poor — all the world for your
way ! —
If one penfive moment fliould flit o'er your mind.
Drop a tear for a captive, in fplendour confin'd.
The Fa>v'rite of the Fair.
Written by Mr. Wesson.
.A I B. — ' Thus, thus, my boys, our anchor's weigh' d.''
THUS, thus, my boys,, you fee once more,
We're landed fafe on Britain's fhoxe.
In fpite of every foe,
Let's circulate the chearful glafs.
Then each return unto his lafs,
■On her his gains beftovv.
Let Venus quit her flow'ry car.
That fails above the air,
To hail tite free-born Britifh tar.
The fav'rite- of the fair.
Enough of war we've had, my friends.
But now on peace my hope depends.
Oh, may each hope prove true,
And may kind lieav'n aufpicious prove.
Each fair reward her failor's love.
Content will then enfue.
Let J^enus quit, t^c.
To keep my gentle JelTe.
Sung ill ' The Merchant of fenice.'
TO keep my gentle Jefle,
What labour would ie&m
Each toilfome taflc how eafy !
Her love the fweet reward.
The--bee thus, uncomplaining,
Efleems no toil fevere ;
The' fweet reward obtaining.
Of honey all the year.
hard ?
PUBLISHED at N°- 10, BEDFORD-ROW, Dublin;
Where the preceding Numbers may be had.