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

J5S
THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
Little Snip.
MY daddy is a tailor, fir, and brother Jack is
alfo one,
And lure as we've a roaring trade, why 1 am little
Snip his ton ;
My father cuts, and brother fews, and I can alfo rip
and flich,
And what is better far than all, my daddy's growing
preity rich,
SPOKEN.] IFhen he makes out a bill never forget;! to
put doixiti a feiv itetns, iv/iich he calls under the denomi-
nation of trade cabbaging.
With his Ri tol, lol, fol de riddle ride.
My father fays I am his fon, becaufe I know a thing
or two,
But wer'n't 1 like a needle fharp, why this 1 know
'twould never do ;
For daddy never fticks at threads, an inch, or half a
yard, or ell,
And while he meafures out his cloth, takes care his
flieers fhall always tell.
SPOKEN.] whether 'tis broadcloth, fufierfne or
feconds ; coat, luaifcoat, or pantaloons, 'tis aliva^s,
Ri tol, lol, &c.
'Tis certain I'm a clever lad,. let people fay, what e'er
they will,
For when I fet up trade myfelf; Lord how 1 will fpin
out the bill;
For iho' they'may fay this or that, a tailor's trade
can never fail.
While there's fomething to be got, I'm down upon
it, as a nail,'
SPOKEN.] /// don't one day or other, cut. my coat ac-
cording to my cloth, and laarm my gooje for a good
picking, I ought to be fet doivn for a goofe myfelf.
With my Ri tol, lol, &c.
Dick Smith, thC: Watchman.
DICK Smith is my name, and a tight boy am I,
For I trudge it both late and early ;
And what I oft fees as «he hours I cry,
Why, my Maflers, I'll tell you now fairly.
Sometimes 'tis, my fate on ,a dark cloudy night
To meet a fond pair often cooing ; '• •
-But if they but Aide in my hand fomething bright,
Why Lord I cap't fee what the're doing. . . ,y \
•Paft twelve o'Cloek-, and a cloudy vaotnhngj^
When a row d'ye fee, is kick'd up in the ftreet.
And — IVatchmen, f ff 'Thief , — are a calling ;
If I meets but a fcamp, while I'm on my beat,
Why I foon lays the gentleman fprawling :
But if he but tips me a watch, or a purfe,
Why.Lthen, do you fee, does my duty;
As I lets him flip by, whil'e I grumble and curfe,
And fwear he is off with the booty. ;
Paft twelve o'Cloek, &c.
Sometimes in my box, if I happen to doze,
Some wiig of my cafe makes a handle ;
For d'ye fee, after gripmg me faft by the nofe,
He lleals both my lantern and candle.
Then while for the gUm I am looking about,
Comes by me an impudent prater,
Vyith, Hip! Maft'r Watchman, believe me you're
out,
"Fo'r damn m.e, it's •three hours later.
Paft twelve o'Cloek, ivc.
Peter's Medley,
NEAR Kew one morn was Peter born.
At Limehoufe educated ;
I learnt to pull with Simon Skull,
And a tightifh lad was rated.
For coat and badge I'd often try, f
And when firft oars, 'twas who but I, >
While the pretty girls would archly cry, j'
" Ah did you not hear of a jolly young waterman,
" Who at Blackfriar's Bridge us'd fir to ply ?
" He feather'd his oars with fuch Ikill and dex-
terity,
" Winning each heart, and delighting each eye."
But grown a man, I foon began
To quit each boyifh notion:
With old Benbow, 1 fwore to go,
And brave the foaming ocean.
With him I fail'd twelve years or nigh, y
And faw the gallant hero die, (.
Yet 'fcap'd each iliot myfelf, for why, J
" There's a fweet little cherub fits up aloft,
" To keep watch for the life of poor jack."
To Italy, a great grandee
Brought me thro' Fortune's fteerage;
By chance of war, a Britiifi tar
May meet Italian peerage.
Now hither fent by friends unkind.
And in this ifland clofe confin'd,
I figh for l/iat >J've left behind ;
For, oh its a nice little i'land,
A right little, tight little ifland ;
" May its commerce increafe,
." While the blefiings of peace
Mak€ glad every heart in the ifland,"
1
The Wounded Huflar.
ALONE to the banks'of the dark rolling Danube,
Fair Adelaid hied when the battle was o'er ;
O whither, fhe cried, haft thou wnnder'd my lover.
Or here doft thou welter, and bleed r.n the fhore ?
What voice did I hear ! 'twas my Henry that figh'd.
All mournful fhe haften'd, nor wander'd afar.
\V hen bleeding alone on the heath fhe defcried,
By the light of the moon, her poor wounded hufHtr.
From his bofom that heav'd, the laft torrent was
ftreaming.
And pale was his vifage, deep mark'd with a fear.
And dim was that eye, once exprefiively beaming.
That melted in love, and that kindled in war ;
How fmit was poor Adelaid's heart at the fight !
How bitter flie wept o'er the vitfiim of war j
" Haft thou come, my fond love, this laft forrowful
night,
" To cheer the lone heart of your wounded huffar."
" Thou fliah live!" fhe replied, " heavens' mercy
relieving,
Each anguifhing wound fhall forbid me to mourn ;''
" Ah I nothe laft pang in my bofom is heaving.
No light of the morn Ihall to Henry return;
Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true.
Ye babes of my love, that await me afar" —
His falt'ring tongue fcarcely murmur'd adieu,
When he funk in her aims, the poor wounded huftar.