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

^a^S
THE CHARMS OP MELODY.
Ye Warblers, Avhile Strephon I moan.
YE warblers, while Strephon I moan.
To cheer me your harmony bring,
-Unlefs fince my fliepherd is gone
You choofe like poor Phillis to ling.
Each flower declines its fweet head,
Nor odours around me will throw,
WhUe ev'ry fot't lamb on the measl,
beains kindly to pity my woe.
Jack at the Windlafs.
COME, all hands, ahoy,,to the anchor.
From friends and relations to go ;
Poll blubbers and cries — devil thank her —
She'll foon take another in tow :_
This breeze like the old one will kick us
About on the boifterous main,
And one day, if Death does not trick us,
Perhaps we may come back again :
■ With a -will-ho.then, pulUway, jolly boys,
At the mercy of fortune we go,
We're in for it, then what a folly, bays.
For to be down hearted, yo-ho.
Ourboatfwain takes care of the rigging,
More efpecially when he gets drunk;
The bob-llays iupply him with fwigging.
He the cable cuts up for old junk :
,The ftudding-fail ferves for a hammock.
With the clue-lines he bought him his call.
While enfigns and jacks, in a manrunoc,
He fold, to buy trinkets for Poll.
JVith a zvill-ho, '^c.
Of the purfer, this here is the maxim.
Slops, grog, and provifions, he facks ;
Sow he'd look, if you was but to ax him,
With the captain's clerk who 'tis goes fnacks?
Oh ! he'd find it another-guefs llory,
That would bring his bare back to the cat.
If his majefty's honor and glory
Was only jull told about that.
IVith a will-ho, l^c.
The chaplain's both holy and godly,
And fets up for heaven agog :
Yet, to my mind, he looks rather oddly,
When he's fwearing and drinking ot grog :
When he took on his knee Betty Bowfer,
And talk'd of her beauty and charms,
Cry'd I, which is the way to, heav'n now, fir ?
"Why, you dog" cry 'd'the chaplain "her arms I"
With a will-ho, Uc. ■
The gunner's the devil of a lubber.
The carfindo can't fifli a maft ;
The furgeon's a lazy land-lubber.
The mafter can't fteer if he's aft :
The lieutenants conceit are all wrapt in,
The.mates hardly merit their flip •,
Nor is there a fwab, but the captain.
Knows the ftem from the Item of the fiiip.
With a •will-ho y ISc^
Now 'fore and aft' having abus'd them,
Juft but for my fancy and gig,
Could I find any one that ill-us'd them,
D — n me but I'd tickle his wig :
Tack never was known for a railer,
' Twas fun ev'ry word that I fpoke ;
•And the fign of a true-hearted failor.
Is to give and to take a .good joke.
^With afwlllzkq, ■&>.
Liften to the Voice of Love*
CAST, mj love, thine eyes aio'^nd.
See the fportive lambkins play.
Nature gaily decks the ground,
All in honour of the May.
Xike the fparrovv and the dove,
Liften to the voice of love.
Let us loveand let us live
Like the cheerful fcafon gay ;
Banilh care, and let us give
Tribute to the fragrant May,
Like the fparrow and the dove
, Liften to the voice of love.
We fhall be married To-morrow.
YOUNG Will of the green is the lad to my mind,
' For tho' he is apt to be teazing.
Not a fwain in the village, tho' gentle and kind,
Talks of love in a m^',n.ner fo pleafing :
Laft night as I rov'd on the banks of the Dee,
To be fure. my fond lever rr.uft follow —
He forc'd a fend kifs, and a promife from me, '
That we fhould be married to-morrow.
I fain would have, anfwer'd, indeed 'tis too foon,
But the lad was lo for.d and endearing,
I could not refufe him fo fimple a boon.
When ,all that he crav'd was ahearinp' :
Mj hand he fo prefs'd, that 1 could not fay no,
Or give the fond youth any.forrow,
I heard him with patience determine it fo,
And we ftiall be-married to-morrow.
. In the morning the bells v ill merrily ring.
My heart with tie thought isdeliehted ;
Nor e'er will I «nvy a queen or a king.
When I and my love are united ;
Our lives .Ihali be fpent without murmur or ill,
Nor e'er know of trouble or iorrosv,
And then he (hall kifs me as oft' as. he will,
For we fhall be. married torjuorrow.
1
Englifh Ale.
D'YE^mind-me ? I once was a failor.
And in different countries I've been,
If I lie, may I go for a tayior —
But a thoufand fine fights I have feen :
I've been cramm'd with good things like a wallet,
And I've guzzled. more drir.k than a whale.
But the very belt fluff to my palate.
Is a glafs of your Englifli good Ale.
Your doftors may boaft of their lotions,
And ladies may talk of their tea •,
But I envy them none of their potions,
A glafs of good ftingo for me-
The doflor may fr.eer if he plcafes.
But my receipt never will fail,
For the phyfic that cures all difeafes.
Is a bumper of Englifh good Ale.
When my trade was upon th.e fait ocean,
Why thereT had plenty of grog.
And I lik'd it, becaui'e I'd a notion
It fets one's good Ipirits agog :
But fince upon land I've been fleering,
Experience has alter'd my tale,
.Tor nothing on earth is fo cheering
As a bumper of Englifli good Ale.