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

THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
3^9
The worth of Wine.
A ; R , — ' Let's ht jovial, fill car glaffes . '
'T^IS wine that clears the underflanding,
, ■*■ Makes men learn'd without books;
Fits the gen'ral for cnmmandinjr,
And glv-es fclJiers fiercer looks.
fflth a fa, la, la, &c-
'Tis wine that gives a life to lovers.
Heightens beauties of the fair ;
.Truth from fall'eiiood it dilcovers.
Quickens joys, and conquers care.
fflik a fa, la, la, &c.
Wine will fet our fouls on fire,
Fits us for all glorious things ;
When rais'd by Bacchus we afpire
At flights above the reach of kin^s.
If'kk a fa, la, h, &c.
Bring in honny magnus plenty,
pe each' glais a bumper crown'd ;
None to flinch till they be empty.
And full fifty toafts go rourid. .
IHfh a fa, la, la, £s'ir.
Srnirky Nan.
Air, — 'Namy, 0.'
AH ! woe is me, poor Willy cry'd, %
See how I'm wafted to a fpan ;
My heart I loft, when firft I fpy'd
The charming, lovely milk-maid Nan.
il'm grown fo weak, a gentle breeze
Of diilky Roger's winnowing fan
Would blow me o'er yon beachy trees.
And all for thee, my fmirky Nan.
The ale-wife mifTes me of late, ,
I us'd to take a hearty can ;
But I can neither drink nor eat,
Unlefs 'tis brew'd and bak'd by Nan.
The baker makes the beft of bread.
The flow'r he takes, and leaves the bran,
The bran is ev'ry other maid,
Compar'd with thee, my fmirky Nan.
Dick of the green, that nafty loWn,
Laft Sunday to .my miftrefs ran.
He fnatch'd a kils; I knock'd him down,
Which hugely pieas'd my fmirky Nan.
But, hark ! the roaring foger comes,
And rattles tanlara tnran.
She leavei her covys for noify drums ;
Woe's me, I've loft my fmirky Nan.
The Rival.
OF all the torments^ all the care,
By which our lives are curft ;
Of all the forrows that we bear,
A rival is tho worft.
V>y partners in another kind
vVfiliftion cafier grow ;
In love alone we hate to find
Companions in our woe.
Sylvia, for all the griefs you fee,
Arifing in my breaft,
I beg not that you'd pity me.
Would you but flight the reft,
Howe'er fevereyou rigorou* are,
Alone with them I'd cope ?
I can endure my own defpair,
But not nnother's hope.
Love, Dfiak and Debt.
I HAVE been in love, and in debt, and in drink,
Thefe maijy and many a year ;
And thefe are plagues enough, I fliould think,
For any poor mortal to bear.
'Twas love made me fall into drink.
And drink made me fall into debt ;
And though I have ftruggl'd and fl,rov»
I cannot get out of them yet.
There's noihing but money can cure me
And rid <ne of all my pain ;
'Twill pay all my debts,
And remove'all my lets;
And my. miftrefs that cannot endure me,
Will love me, and love me again;
Then, then I fhall fall to ray loving and drinking
again.
Stand by, clear the Way.
TT7"HAT tho' they call me a country lafs
» " 1 read it plainly in my glafs,
That for a dutchefs I might pafs;
Oh, could I fee the day .'
Would fortune but attend my call,
A t park, at play, at ring and ball,
I'd brave the proudeft of them all.
With a ftand-by, clear the way.
Surrounded by a croud of beaux,
With fmart toupees, and powder'd clothes
At rivals I'd turn up my nofe:
Oh, could I fee (he day I
I'd dart fuch glances from thefe eyes.
Should make fome duke or lord my prize ;
And then, oh I how I'd tyrannize.
With a ftand-by, clear the way.
Oh ! then for ever new delight.
For equipage, and diamonds bright.
Quadrille, and balls, and phys ail night :
Oh, could I fee the isj !
Of love and joy I'd take my fill.
The tedious hours of life to kil! ;
In ev'ry thing I'd have my will.
With a fland-by, cleaf the way.
The Orphan.
Air, — '^ Csttagftn the Moor:."
T
■L F pity, fweet maid, ever dweid in thy breaft.
Oh, look with confipafiion on one that's diftrefs'd
An orphan, alas! no relations remain, .
I'm chill'd with the cold, I'm wet with the r.iin.
From morning till evening I wander along,
Unheeded by all, tho' I plaintively moan ;
But children of pleaUive pafs by in difHain, ■
Nor think on the orphan that's wet with the rain.
My garr-nnts are tatter'cf, my looks pale a;id wan,,
I'm willing to labour, yet .work I have none ;
I'm finking with hunger, no food can I gain.
Then pity the orphan that's wet with ths rain.
But God fends relief-to the orphans unknown,
For peace and contentment is a happy throne ;
Thenlook with compafsion, ne'er look with difdain
And pity theorphan that's wet with thcrair..